New Year’s Eve was awesome, of course. It was Katherine and I vs. wine, and we prevailed! We drank wine, we drank all the wine. Ah, but the wine wreaks bitter revenge today. Katherine figures I should live in Ottawa, because I need her good influence. I think I should live there because Katherine needs my specific influence. Not bad influence, just my influence in general. The whole world needs my influence! I need to start my own magazine, I think. Or religion? That could be a resolution: become cult leader. (This is why I need Katherine’s influence, incidentally. She so consistently curbs my cult leader aspirations.)
On the topic of resolutions, I have none. I’m pretty good at being consistently goddamned fabulous, let’s not risk fucking up perfection. Katherine and I determined that, in the New Year, we’re both going to be healthier, but that’s not so much a resolution as an undeniable statement of fact. Late December has been so full of chocolate, wine and ass-sitting, it would be utterly impossible to be less healthy. Gerald is doing some week-end mini-bootcamps this month, I think I might go for it. But I can’t think about it too hard right now, the hangover won’t allow it.
You will be not shocked in the least to learn I’m irritatingly peppy while hungover. I’d like to thank Katherine for not stabbing me in the neck at any point this morning while I insisted on headbopping to 80’s music and chasing her dog, because terrible pain is no reason to sit still and be quiet, that would be just ludicrous.
This morning, in two completely independent conversations, through no maneuvering of my own, I wound up talking about the difference between Jimmy Buffett and Warren Buffett. I just found that mind-blowing, and I’m making you read it like it’s interesting to people other than me. Anyway, I swear to Christ, when I was a teenager I found a clothes store online with Hawaiian-print dresses run by Jimmy Buffett, and no-one believes me and it no longer exists. It’s the phantom Jimmy Buffett Hawaiian dress store! That haunts my addled brain! I’m not crazy!
Because we are mired in the cold and terrible winter months, and my legs are weirdly immune to cold, I’ve been going around with bare legs and a shorter skirt. It’s my campaign to bring some skin into winter. Reactions on the street are mixed, to say the least. But I stand by my campaign! And I will until, like, mid-January, when it gets really cold and I finally have to put on stupid tights. (The secret is, it’s not a campaign, I just hate tights so much, so very much. Almost as much as I hate pants. Damn pants.)
Oh, while Katherine and I were out being brilliant a few days ago, I came up with a totally awesome quote that’s now my blog subtitle: “The best ideas are rarely good.” I thought that was pretty rad. I’m going to scrawl it on my forehead in permanent marker before every job interview ever. (But seriously, potential employers Googling me, I’m just entertaining, don’t worry. Imagine how much fun I will be around a water cooler.) I also want to put it on my (still) potential business cards, but I’m pretty sure it violates every rule of business cards ever, and my career services guy may just start hitting me and never stop. Anyway, with Katherine I plotted out the business cards: my name, this quote, and a picture of my face, squished into a photocopier. Missing: phone number, email, anything else.