this is a new year post. hakuna matata and I’m sorry.

Hi. Hi. Hi.  I’m a special occasion blogger, it would appear.  That’s lame.  I’m a work in progress.

So Merry Christmas and Happy New Year since last I said “sup”.  If you happen to be reading this, it’s likely you are my mom, grandma, or have had my tweets shoved down your throat.  So you know what I did and where I was over the holiday season.  And also how friggin’ cute my nieces and nephew are.

Keeping in true unoriginal fashion, I’m resolving.  I try every year to read the Bible more, lose 10 pounds, and an ass-ton of other things I stop doing on a regular basis come March.  Last night, I had a minor panic attack about the idea of turning 28 this year.  I bought new sheets, cleaned my room, and went to bed after popping a NyQuil at 8:30PM as a result.  It’s all I knew to do to begin the pursuit of an adult’s mindset.  That, and make a mental note to head over to Barnes & Noble for 7 Habits of Highly Effective People tomorrow.  Shit is about to get real.  But none of that in the blog.  The following are my not-so-grown-up resolutions.  And welcomed distractions from feeling like I need to get my crap together this year.

This year, I resolve to…

1.  …ask myself before every situation, “What would Tina Fey do?”  Wit.  Intelligence.  Strength.  Success.  Boom & pow.

2.  …become unafraid of the ocean.  Y’all.  Scares my tits off.  Maybe it’s because I grew up on Texas beaches.  You can’t see your feet down there.  And seaweed feels so much like a predator giving my limbs a warning that they’re about to be torn off of me.  Or stung by something sneaky.  I can’t handle it.  I’m freaking out typing about it.  But this year, I will find an ocean and not spend the entire time clenching my butt cheeks knee-deep.  I’ll run and play.  And then I’ll go sit back down and apply more SPF 6000.

3.  …try the childhood snack “ants on a log”.  I hate the heck out of celery.  It’s a weird food made of stringyness and hurts my tongue with its flavor.  I don’t even mean that as a metaphor.  My tongue legitimately feels different when I eat it.  At least that’s what my 9 year-old subconscious tells me.  Because I haven’t tried to eat it in years.  But it’s on every vegetable tray and hummus plate at all of the baby showers and bridal showers my friends are having.  Instead of monopolizing the carrots and cherry tomatoes, I’m going to eat celery and I’m going to like it.  But not just drowned in ranch.  I’m going to do what I never did growing up because we were poor:  make my snacks fun.  (Insert awkward laugh here because I mentioned we were poor.  It’s ok, guys.  I made it!  And also, I’m still pretty poor.)

4.  …go on a blind date.  This is self explanatory.  Let’s just hope he never reads my blog.  It’s likely there will be a funny story about how I talked really fast because that’s what I do when trying to overcompensate for a socially awkward situation.  Also, names will be changed to protect the innocent and not-my-type.

5.  …wear heels at least once a week.  I blame this completely on my recent viewing of Sex & the City.  I apologize ahead of time for my diverted eye contact when I tumble and the likely increased use of the word “fabulous”.  I’m not a bitch, I swear.

6.  …go to a rap concert.  I have been thug most of my life.  And by “thug”, I mean a white girl with an affection for hip-hop and the ability to retain the lyrics, thus looking more impressive at karaoke.  I think it’s time I twirled a towel around my head like a helicopter and got accidentally contact high.

7.  …watch The Cosby Show in its entirety.  I think I saw it on Netflix or Hulu.  I laugh, I cry.  I need some Huxtable in my life.  And to see Raven Simone when she was still cute and not a pain in my ass.  It’ll be done.

I’m keeping the list short to give myself a chance.  Hold me accountable.  Or forget about it completely and never ask me how it’s going.  And on a serious note – have the best 2013.  Love and be lovable.