Even though I'm about as good as it gets, I realised that it is about that time of year to start thinking about how to better myself in the coming 12 months.
I've drawn up three for now, let me know yours in the comments section.
1. Write my own eulogy
Maybe it's because I'm currently wearing a men's t-shirt that says 'I am awesome' (I bought it for myself), a purple Slanket (a Christmas gift I asked for from my brother), XL pyjama bottoms I got for a fiver, slippers I took from a hotel in Prague and the fact I am 26 and sat at my Mum's house in front of Morse and an open fire.
Maybe it's because the pre-Christmas party season has consisted of me crying 'Is he winding me up?' when a good looking guy decides to hit on me, dancing at a gay club and being jealous of the oiled guy everyone's staring at - maybe, maybe if I take my top off, suck my boobs in (investigate methods) and draw on a six pack out of salt, I can convince the charming bewaxen fellas to do tequila shots off my naked torso?
Or maybe it's because I've chain-watched SkyPlussed reruns of Friends, so saw the 30 Rock advert with Liz Lemon deciding to spend her honeymoon money on a cemetery plot about 14 times a day.
Whatever the reason, I'm feeling a bit morbid and have decided to write my own eulogy. Between the age of 19 and 26 I have shared my intimate thoughts with a succession of men, and having a line-up of exes discussing my inner workings over my coffin to my future children (or collection of cats) seems a little inappropriate. I think I'll go for an open casket and ask a professional ventriloquist and thesophie impressionist to deliver my last goodbye (suitable applicants please get in touch). Now, to finish or end with the musical number?
2. Become a social smoker
I don't want to stop completely because I like to follow the advice of Chicane, as communicated through Bryan Adam's creviced face at the turn of the millennium (Don't Give Up - that was a bit convoluted wasn't it? Apologies). I really ought to look into what other philosophical teachings I am signing up to, but I won't.
But I'm going to go it alone - I'm not going to end up insane like the clear patch advert guy, dancing with an invisible disco band on the table of a pub while my better looking friend goes outside to smoke and meet sexy women. Sexy women who smoke. Sexy women like me.
I am not going to have one of those cigarette lookalikes or electric fags to help me along either. They just make you look so stupid that just one drag undoes up to 10 years of cool built up. What a waste.
3. Try being funny on a stage
People on Twitter don't seem to appreciate how awesome I am, so I reckon giving stand up is the only option left. I mean, can you believe that these three crackers got but zero retweets:
'Why are King Kong and his brother Hong so very, very different?' (Haha ha haa haaaa!)
'How did the cameramen on Frozen Planet set their white balance?' (LOL, because of all the snow!)
'I'm addicted to keeping up with trends, but recently I've fallen off the bandwagon.' (Ha-what?)
That's my own original material - no, really. But I can also write for others. Here is something I sent to Billy Connolly's agent. Am yet to hear anything back. Please forward this blog post to him.
"I was putting my willy up my wife (back and forth and back and forth) but my willy went floppy so I did a wee hard jobby and put that in instead."
So there we go - I'm obviously a comic genius. Maybe I could wear the t-shirt at gigs to help people realise that.
Happy 2012, one and all (except you).
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