My New Year's resolution is to shave every other day. It's going to be impossible to pull that off. I hate shaving. It's not even that bad, but I hate it. Something tells me I am already off to a bad start with this New Year's resolution. At least I have a resolution this year. Last year I had nothing.
My Christmas tree still looks twinkly and luminescent. I'm thinking it's good for another 2, 2 and 1/2 weeks of post-holiday cheer. Considering I rode home, for 25 minutes, from Home Depot, on my bike, with the tree gripped precariously under my right arm, I'm going to sap that thing for all the cheer it's worth.
My girlfriend and I received some nice gifts for Christmas, and they are arrayed beneath the tree. They are plentiful. Gifts aplenty. One of my favorite gifts is this bag that I got, which is awesome. I won't describe it, because that would be boring, but you should know that it is a really dynamite bag. I'm going to wear that bag to work tomorrow. No chance I will be walking across Bruckner Boulevard and get nailed by a customized van (see above), sending the bag, and my body, cartwheeling into space, like a rag doll. That would never happen to me.
If you are wearing a smart new bag, and something really bad happens to you, the fact that the bag is so smart no longer really matters. If you are wearing a nice new suit, and then you get beaten up in the suit, you'll feel pretty stupid in the suit, afterwards.
If you join the UFC, the chances of you getting beaten up, while wearing a new suit, are much lower, because you'll be tougher than the average person, and possibly have cauliflower ear, which will be a clue to possible attackers that you are not to be trifled with.
Also, if you join the UFC, I want your autograph.
