New Year's Fails. Er...Resolutions

(Post copyright 2012 - WTFFFFF!!!??? Where's my Hover-Car?, Dawn Weber)

Well, it's the New Year. I can tell because my pants are once again choking my ovaries.

They're also strangling my kidneys, intestines, and spleen. My liver? Has its own battles to fight.

My pants are assholes.

I bet yours are, too.

No wonder. The main damn four food groups these past few weeks have been cookies, fudge, candy and cookie dough. Strangers have asked me when the baby is due.

And then I punch them in the throat.

My healthy and wholesome recent lifestyle - and profoundly tight pants - signal that it's time to lie to myself make some New Year's fails resolutions. Again. For some reason, my fails resolutions are the same each year.

I bet yours are, too.

We will...

Lose weight!
Spend more time with family!
Stop punching strangers in the throat!

Yeah, right. Fail, fail and fail some more.

I have good intentions. But somehow, throughout the year, I get sidetracked with more important things. Such as working, sleeping and Googling pictures of Mike Rowe. I have a Dirty Job for you, Mike Rowe...

No more. I've decided that it's time to get real. Be honest. Ask yourself: What can I truly accomplish in one year's time?

Here at the Lighten Up! Self Help Center (Motto: Better Living Through Chemistry), I have put together some practical, do-able goals for all of us.

No thanks is necessary. Just send cash.

Or a nice box of wine.

Repeat after me, party people:

-I resolve to eat healthier potato chips.
-I resolve to go to church bi-annually.
-I resolve to help my fellow man be less idiotic.
-I resolve to get more sleep -ing pills
-I resolve to learn new things in the bedroom.
-I resolve to be a nicer person to animals.
-I resolve to pray for more money.
-I resolve to be a better role model for crackheads.
-I resolve to volunteer to punch idiots in the throat.
-I resolve to give more money to the Walmart and Target corporations.
-I resolve to quit drinking non-alcoholic beverages.
-I resolve to control my road rage when asleep in the passenger seat.
-I resolve to be happier about my humdrum existence.
-I resolve to cuss less at church. Bi-annually.
-I resolve to read more erotica.
-I resolve to quit smoking crack.
-I resolve to eat less vegetables.

These we can do, folks. No more New Year's fails. Yes sir, I am feeling really good about it.

And that ain't just the crack-pipe talkin'.

It's the Most Wonderful Time for a Beer

(post copyright 2010, Dawn Weber)
(Please enjoy this re-post while I take a little bloggy break. Anyway, can it really be the holidays without this goofy shit little ditty I wrote last year?)

It’s the Most Wonderful Time For a Beer!
My paycheck has gone
Straight to Amazon Com
And the husband’s in tears!
It’s the Most Wonderful Time
For a Beer!

It’s the Hap, Happiest Season
Of All!
Unless you're a woman
In which case you're gonna
Be frantic as hell!
It's the Hap, Happiest Season
Of All!

There'll be lights that aren't lighting
Causing Weber fighting
While hanging the crap on the tree
There'll be traffic to crawl through
To get to the mall through
Please - give some Xanax to me.

It’s the Most Wonderful Time
For a Beer!
The tree’s leaning left
Why is it leaning left?
Shit - give me more beer!
It’s the Most Wonderful Time for a Beer!

It's the most Wonderful Time for a Beer!
With visiting relatives
Making me wish I had
Non-working ears!
It's the Most Wonderful Time for a Beer!

There’ll be candy for eating
And fudge to be sneaking
And egg nog filling my glass
There’ll be cookies for scarfing
And pies to be snarfing
Just slap it all right on my ass!

It's the Most Wonderful Time for a Beer!
The money's all spent
I know right where it went
These two kids right here!
It's the Most Wonderful Time...
It's the Most Nerve-Wracking Time...
It's the Most Wonderful Time for a Beer!

Santa and His Bra

(post copyright 2010, Dawn Weber. Slightly re-worked post from last year. Because - surprise! - I'm a little busy over here!)

Pssst...Santa wears a bra. And panties. And, sometimes, pumps.

That's because he is a she.

Has to be. Take a look around - there's no other way to explain it. All around the U.S., women are frantically planning for the holiday season.

And men...aren't.

I hate to sound sexist. So I'll just perpetuate a male/female stereotype. This time of year, women cook. We clean. We decorate. We bake cookies for entire school districts. We plan gourmet menus for people we hate.

We deck the freaking halls.

Females stalk sales, surf the web, shop the shops and max out the credit cards. We Blacken Friday.

That's because we have to buy for kids, husbands, moms and dads. We have to buy for aunts, uncles, grandmas, grandpas, friends, friends' kids, dogs, cats, garbage men, the homeless and homeless garbage men.

There is one - and only one - logical reason for this: We are suckas...Sucka Clauses.

Guys? They don't worry about this stuff. They don't have to. They have us.

Hold the angry comments - because I know there are exceptions not many. But for the most part, women regard December 1 as the beginning of a frantic, stressful emergency.

Men regard December first as...December first.

In fact, the whole season takes my husband by surprise.

On December 10: "What? You bought 80 Christmas cards!? Do we KNOW 80 people?"

On December 15: "What? You want to get a Christmas tree? Already?"

On December 20: "What? You want to put up lights? Already?"

And my personal favorite, on December 24: "What do you want for Christmas, dear? It's time for me to start shopping..."

Of course, my holiday shopping began in December, too. December of last year.

Purchasing presents ranks as the only holiday activity I enjoy. That's because it's the one time of year that I can spend many thousands of dollars! Virtually guilt-free! Because it's for others! Mostly. Except for those boots...and that Ipod...and...

So as not to cause the husband's first heart attack yet, I usually try to space out gift-buying over several paychecks. I don't always succeed, though, judging by our recent conversation:

"Holy s%#t!" he said, looking at the checkbook register.

"I know," I said. "But I had to start shopping so the stuff gets shipped on time."

"But four hundred forty- eight DOLLARS?!!" he said. "What did you buy?!"

"Stuff for the kids...the grandmas... And I'm not even close to done yet, so stop complaining," I said.

"But...four hundred forty-eight dol..." he said.

"You think this stuff just magically appears under the tree, don't you?" I said.

"Don't Santa and the elves bring it?" he said.

"You're lookin' at Santa. And the elves. And her checkbook," I said. "Now, hand us a beer, would ya? We're beat, and these new boots are killing us."