The only time I ever made a New Year's Resolution was when I was an egg living in my mother's ovary. One day in 1981,  I realized that being a 100 micrometer circle was a waste of my potential when I could instead be an awesomely awesome being of awesomeness.

    At first I was going to put off being born until January 1, 1983, because I thought it would be easier to start life on the first day of the year instead of on one of the other 364 days. But then it occurred to me that by delaying my plan, I'd have to continue being an egg for awhile longer. And not just any egg, but a potential-wasting-egg who was voluntarily sitting in her own uselessness! The horror! Rather than waste any more time, I drop-kicked the next egg in line, became a fetus, and was born January 7, 1982.

    The moral of that true story is: New Year's Resolutions are lame, and the only reason why people wait until January 1 to improve themselves is because they are trying to justify their present laziness.

    That's right, resolution-makers, I said you're lazy. You know there are things about you that should be changed, but you don't want to put in the work. However, because giving up before you've even started makes you look like a loser, you excuse yourself by deciding to wait for the new year before you expend any time and effort. That way, you can continue sitting on your ass and indulging in habits that you admit are bad for you--but without guilt because you think that planning to change someday in the future, i.e. January 1, is the same as actually changing.

    Well it's not the same, and you would have known that if your logic didn't reek of rotten testicles. People like me, whose logic smells like fresh clean testicles, all know that if a person thinks she is capable of affecting change in the future, then she's capable of doing it now. You can go on a diet, save money, drink less, smoke less, whatever, starting today instead of continuing to eat, spend, drink, or smoke more than you already know you should. All you need to do is quit your b*tching and just do it. *Insert NBA star with a Nike endorsement.*

Happy New Year!

Apologies to the five people who read this blog--I've been too busy trying to save the world from evil. And let me tell you, it is tough work trying to get Nintendo to ship out more Wiis, Senator Mitchell to tell us how his romantic novel "Baseball Players Love Needles in their Butt" is coming along, and Britney Spears to show up for a court-appointed deposition. But the dirty work is paying off--except for the deposition thing. Give me a break, people, you know it's impossible to get crazies to things they're supposed to do!

Anyway, I'm taking a break from my righteous antics to study for a final--but I'm taking a break from that to share one of the funniest hypotheticals I have ever read:

Grandmother files a personal injury suit in state court against Red Riding Hood, who lives in another state. The juridsiction has no long-arm statute. In order to get Red into the jurisdiction so process can be served on her, Grandmother sends her a letter saying she is very ill and begging for a visit. Grandmother is, in fact, in robust good health and can bench press 300 lbs. Red comes to visit. Just before her arrival, the process server, B. B. Wolf, pretending to be Grandmother, dresses in her nightie and sits in her bed eating bon bons and watching Wheel of Fortune. When Red shows up, she says, "My, Grandma, what big hands you have!" Wolf responds, "The better to serve you with!" and slaps the court papers into Red's hand. Red files a motion to quash the service on grounds of fraud. Will she prevail?

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha x 1 million.