F’ing New Year’s Resolutions

New year’s resolutions come to me as a comical, and to some extent, venal concept. They all look like these quantitative performance metric that corporate dudes follow … Being able to bench press 350 pounds, losing 25 lbs of butt fat, increasing the size of boobs from B to C. Shit like that. All these examples only disclose people want to be more disciplined, but they struggle.

When the new year arrives, everyone feels like they need to act like grownups with tits ‘n’ all. You see and hear the resolutions, but sadly, the next thing you know, they pass out in the same Irish dump the passed out the year before. How about some dreams, as oppose to resolutions? How about some dreams that don’t necessarily benefit you? How about being qualitative? With that, here are my fucking dreams:

– Saying “fuck” less
– More acts of kindness
– Eliminating world’s illiteracy
– Promoting sense of Personal Responsibility
– Adopting or having a child
– Visiting my parents more frequently
– Drinking more water

Good Luck with medieval peacock vows to vanity.

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