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2009 was weird.

Like, good weird and crappy weird.

Financial ups and downs, babies, new ventures, unexpected illness, the Gosselin divorce (Hello!  Left field!), New Moon, unexplainable loss, GLEE, vasectomies, I don’t know…lots of stuff happened.

I know most people enter the new year with resolutions.  Working out, eating better, drinking less, more reading, better sex.

It’s just all a bit ridiculous to me.

Especially since half of the assholes who make those resolutions will be in the car in front of me waiting for their large fry at McDonalds by March.

Last New Year’s I pledged to eat more good (read: tasty) food and not be a douche bag.

I had a 50% success rate.

I’m gonna put that in the win column.

As for my 2010 resolutions?  I am not going to make any.

Of course I want this year to be even awesomer, but I am not going to set myself up for failure.

I mean, I might as well promise to grow a hymen in 2010, because I am that unlikely to keep any resolution I make.

Plus gyms as assholes about refunding memberships.

And Target won’t let you return yoga pants with built in underwear after you peel off the protective paper vagina guard thing.

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