DEAR SANTA ... HOW ABOUT SOME LIPOSUCTION?

My New Year's Resolution?

My fat ass has GOT to lose about 50 lbs.

Ever since Christmas 2001, I've been eating about as unhealthy as a fat bastard can eat.

Steaks smothered in peanut butter.

Fried chicken dipped in rich milk chocolate.

French fries drizzled with seasoned lard.

Baby ... I've let myself go.

But you know what?

Those days are GONE, BUCKY!!!

Yep...starting tomorrow, my ass is eating HEALTHY.

And I'm going to be WALKING. Every single f'n day...walk, walk, walk.

And I'm not talking about a walk from the refrigerator to the microwave. Nope...30 minutes of straight walking...EVERY DAY!!

Okay...every weekday.

Okayyyy...every weekday where it's nice enough to be walking.

Okayyyyyyyyy...I'll walk tomorrow and that's it.

But the IMPORTANT thing is ... I shed these 50 lbs.

Now then...I'm no idiot.

My Resolution is not to lose 50 lbs. this year.

My Resolution is to lose 30 lbs.

That's a nice, reasonable amount of weight. Fifty pounds...that's pushing it. Thirty pounds is achievable.

I'm not stopping once I hit 30 lbs lighter. I'll keep going.

But if I lose 30 lbs...I'm a WINNER!!

I'M A SURVIVOR!!!

I'm like one of those people that Richard Simmons has on those infomercials, where I'm bawling and squealing about losing 30 lbs.

"Oh Christ, Richard," I'll say, sobbing into a sopping wet Kleenex. "I was so fat and fucking ugly. Then...no thanks to you ... I started losing the weight by eating better and walking around my neighborhood in a stupor at 5 a.m. And now...look at me. I'm 30 lbs. lighter. I'm still a humongous fat ass who frightens the shit out of small children ... sure. But the important thing is ... well ... there really is no important thing. Other than the fact that I got the chance to see you in your flimsy little tank top and ballhugging shorts and got to cry on national television that nobody would ever dare watch."

Yep.

Dem's some lofty ambitions.

I'm off work today and tomorrow, which is really cool.

Except for the fact that my next day off won't be until...what? May?!?

That blows monkey cock.

But it's cool today. Susie and Andrew are gone all day. Major f'n thunderstorms are approaching the area so it will be nasty and rainy and good sleeping weather.

It's my kinda day, Jose.

My plans for New Year's??

Well...originally I was supposed to deejay tonight. But I think my deejay partner is going to be doing that one since I have yet to hear from him about getting my stuff together for it.

It's just as well really. I don't feel like going out and throwing a party. I don't want to get drunk tonight and it's not nearly as easy to throw a New Year's Eve celebration sober as it is drunk.

So more than likely, it'll be me, the Mrs. and the young'un. We'll probably hit the sack about 10:00 and have our annual "Last Sex Of The Year" which my wife has insisted on each year since 1986.

Except for the 1989-1990 NYE. My God...that was the night I passed out in Whoopi Goldberg's bathroom, vomiting my lungs out in a gold plated toilet.

That was the night I learned that drinking champagne all night and then inviting a lingerie model to Whoopi's hotel room to smoke a few joints afterwards is not a WISE thing to do.

...Especially when your wife's in tow.

Anyway...I didn't have sex that New Year's Eve.

Come to think of it ... I don't recall having sex for most of 1990.

The wife was a wee bit pissed for about 11 months afterwards.

Oooooo...they just issued a Tornado Watch for my area!!

I freakin' LOVE good storms!!

As long as the electricity doesn't go out for several hours, I should have a great day.

Speaking of having a great day...damn you...YOU have a great day.

If you're going out tonight to get your drunk on ... for Pete's sakes...be careful. Most cities have free taxi service, so take advantage of that. Your Uncle Bob loves ya and wants you safe and sound and snoring in your bed when it's all over tonight.

I'll even take you puking in Whoopi's toilet.

Either way...just party safely and stay alive.

Happy New Year's!