Tuesday, January 18

first foray in blogopolis

a "shout-out" to those less resolute
I like to reverse-psychologize (new word?) myself out of breaking New Year's resolutions.

Why? Because, well... they're just so darned vociferous. Let's face it, anything that blatant is bound to crash and burn. Follow this example:

Bright idea! Let's shout to the entire stratosphere--or at least our officemates--that we've launched a plan to starve ourselves into that wonderfully perfect size 2 wool and cashmere blend pencil skirt that we splurged on over the holiday, but haven't yet been able to tug over our just-a-little-too-plump butt.

[Five minutes later.] Our "drive-by" past the office kitchen slows to a park. We find ourselves gazing longingly into the baby blues of... the blueberry french toast leftover from this morning's client meeting. Operation Starvation is now at a standstill... quickly conquered by extreme lack of willpower, formally known in this case as Sgt. Syrupy Sweet Indulgence.

Back to my attempts at reverse-psychologization (could this possibly count as another new word?):

I simply boycott (very vocally and possibly obnoxiously) all forms of resolutions/goals/dreams/ambitions/whathaveyou
that hover anywhere near the first of the new year. Then quietly, with a faint gleam in my eye, I lose those five nagging pounds, manicure the heck out of my nails, hit a nearby solar salon and have my hair cut and colored--all in the same week.

And then for the response... "What, I look great? Huh? New Year's resolution? No way!" (This said all while my brain is quietly shouting, "Touché!"). Sure, some years leave more room for celebration than others, but all-in-all I've found my approach much more successful than those of my peers.

hot, hot, hot
Have you heard the one about the bloke who boiled his lava lamp 'til implosion? I'm not kidding--he set it on his stove to cook, and a bit later his lab experiment ended rather unfortunately, with glass shards entering his chest cavity.

I'm curious to his initial motive. Perhaps the temp was as cold in the UK as it has been in the greater Chicagoland area? Because then I could almost start to grasp his vision... last cup of coffee didn't take the chill off? How about some liquid hot magma.

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