I didn’t make any New Year’s resolutions this year.  When I do, they’re always the same, “get organized,” “run or exercise everyday,” “eat better,” “stop picking that scab on my elbow” “start telling the truth in court,” blah, blah, blah.

Did you ever stop and think of what a boring life it would be if we all stayed true to our resolutions? The streets would be crammed full of joggers, grocery stores couldn’t keep up with the demand for things like orange juice, turkey bacon and granola bars, and eventually the entire kick-the-smoking-habit industry and all the weight loss schemes would go out of business, along with everything related to tobacco, liquor and chocolate.

If we stayed true to our New Year’s resolutions all year, what would we give up for Lent? We’d have to start chipping into the things that aren’t really bad, just not great, things like cheese, Sweet N Low, pretzels, and watching TV shows that don’t bleep out “ass” and use laugh tracks.

My mom used to have a saying, when I’d come home from junior high and start complaining about somebody, “She’s so queer! Oh my god, she was all like, you called him and I was like, no I didn’t. And her hair used to be tuff but now it’s not. And she wears this coat.

St. Lil would say, “Well, Diane, wouldn’t it be a boring world if we were all like you.”

At the time this made sense, but now that I think about it, what was she talking about? It would be an awesome world if everyone were like me! Malls would be full of only the stores I like. I wouldn’t have to drive all the way across town for the good Starbucks, there would be one on every corner! (Oh, wait, that already happened.) There would be no stupid rednecks in front of me in line, no Hummers on the road, and the library would only have books that I like. Of course they’d all be checked out already, along with all the good movies at Blockbuster. Alright, so maybe what my mom meant was, it would be an inconvenient and creepy world if everyone was like me, and also, who would we make fun of? Who would we criticize? How would we feel good about our own sad selves if there wasn’t anybody weirder?

If I want to make a change in my life, I’ve always gotten more inspiration and incentive from the screw-ups of the world than from people I want to emulate. I secretly celebrate (and by that I mean I say a silent ‘yay!’ and clap my index fingers) every time I hear about a mom who does something stupid like leave her kids home while she goes out to turn tricks. To me, that’s just another notch on my belt:  “I’m better than her, I’m better than her, and now I’m better than her.”

So here, on January 1st, I’m resolutionless. I’m doing my part to keep the world an interesting and vice-filled place, where we abuse our bodies so we can have different sizes and shapes, where the sidewalks are clear and scabs can’t heal.

My husband finds amusement in horoscopes and he just showed me ours for today. Mine, Libra, says I should use my spare time to ride a bike, take a walk in the park, play games or find constructive ways to burn off energy.

His, Taurus, is just a little bit different:  “All the vitamins and home remedies in the world won’t cure a holiday hangover or years of neglect.”

Sorry about your bad luck, buddy. I should switch with him. Because there’s no way in hell I’m riding anything or walking anywhere today.

Just doing my part.