Grading The Rebooted Resolutions Machine

"You know what? Go ahead and jump." photo by Joe

Friends! Remember a little over a year ago, when I attempted to Reboot the ol' Resolutions Machine? Yeah, neither did I until a few minutes ago, when I reread it. Feels like half a lifetime (and three-quarters of a democratic republic) ago, doth it not?

It doth, Joe. It SO doth.

Okay, as all four of you dear readers surely know by now, I just adore doing self-evaluations (I don't) - almost as much as I LOVE making New Year's resolutions (I don't. Why do you think it routinely takes me until many weeks past January 1st to make them?). Yeah. So let's make haste, and grade the results of last year's to-do list, and then jot down a few goals for the remaining 318 days of 2025. Shouldn't take long...

First, last year's list:

• Take the Christmas tree down (DONE!)
• Make mac & cheese (DONE!)
• Shovel snow twice (DONE - Oh, I remember, now. This is a bunch of stuff I had either already done when I made this list, or things that are so easy and routine as to not even remotely count as "resolutions." Pet a dog? Come on, man!)

So, I scored like 110% (which at many of our employers means MET EXPECTATIONS). Let's make things a bit more challenging for 2025, shall we? Shush - we shall, and it's not up for debate. Yes, even though I said "shall we," as if putting it up for debate. There will be no debating that we shall. You love it when I do this, as do I.

I resolve to:

• SURVIVE.
• Deposit 145 checks from my Beloved Donors within 24 hours at Beloved Employer (HA!! The year-end flood is only just now subsiding; I've already completed this resolution several times. Not sure what I was trying to pull off, there. Just showing off, I guess.)
• Remember to say "white rabbits, white rabbits, white rabbits" upon waking up on the 1st of each month. I'm told that doing so will result in good luck for the entire month, and I'm all about superstitions, yeah?
• 'Spread awarene's's of approaching 's's, by way of overu'se of apo'strophe's.
• Use, fewer, commas,
• Get to the National Zoo to visit our new giant pandas. Given the new regime's onslaught of massive, cruel, ill-informed and blundering destruction, I'd better hurry.

Baby Tai Shan in early 2006. photo by Joe

• Memorize John Mulaney's "Horse Loose In A Hospital" routine, update it a little for 2025, and randomly recite it as my own, at work and with family and friends - almost none of whom will know it's stolen. (oh, I'm kind of excited about this one!)
• Purchase all of Kendrick Lamar's music catalogue. If fragile white male racists hate him, he must be good people.
• Get someone to spontaneously play THIS GAME with me.
• Not rest until the Potomac River is officially renamed the Max Headroom Crayfish And Minnows Express Waterway And Food Court, Sponsored By Nordstrom Rack.
• Be someone's lava lamp.
• Learn a dead language. Deader than Latin. Deader than Disco! Then, I'll hold lively conversations with myself on the Red Line, so no one wants to sit next to me (no one wants to sit next to me now, but a little insurance couldn't hurt
• Be doomed. (HAHAHAHAHA - done!)
• Two words.
• Seriously, something's gotta be done (attempted) to get one or two of my little novels to see the light of day. I keep telling them that the light of day is totally where it's at, but they are shy.
• SURVIVE.
• Atone for my race and gender. This might take a minute.
• See Simple Minds, Soft Cell, and Modern English in concert, preferably on the same night.
• Finally read all the "Harry Potter" books. Don't judge me!
• Watch cartoons.
• Repeat.

Let's stop there. You guys are TROOPERs, but we all know I'm not going to do half of that stuff, let alone any real resolutions like find my Ebn-Ozn t-shirt (ha), drink more water (as if), be more positive (barf), read more, write more, reach my target weight, blah blah blah...

But I can dream, can't I? Of course I can. It's basically all I do.

See, What Happened Was (A toast to '24 - bet it's shorter than last year's)

 

Good riddance, '24 (and yet - we'll miss you)

Here we go again. It's time to toast the passing of another year. If you're unfamiliar with how this goes, see the 2023 and 2017 and 2013 versions. Not sure why I must always wait until the New Year is just a couple hours away, but it is what it is. Hey - maybe the limited time will motivate me to be brief! We can only hope.

Here's to January, another blur of year-end gift processing heroics by yours truly, conducted in the quiet offices of Beloved Employer, in the fashionable West End of Washington, DC. It was exceptionally cold. Then it was SEVENTY, and all the Metro platforms turned to weirdly-slippery death traps, for a couple of days. You should have seen DC's subway commuters, shuffling along like Tim Conway's old man persona in a desperate attempt to remain upright. It was less fun than it sounds.

Cheers, 70-degree January evening!

There was some cooking, as well. Here, because I thought they looked pretty...

Korean veggie lettuce cups. Pretty, non?

Here's to February. Cheers. Yay, February.

My tree! Look what you've done to my tree!!

Here's a sad fact. February 19th was the last time I posted to my poor neglected bloggy space. At least it was a HOBO STORY.

No cheers for March. I lost a water heater and another of my beloved uncles. Yeah, we had the Madness, but it was a bit meh. Better luck next March...

Big cheers to April, though! [Maris] and I trekked to Lake Erie, where we photographed lighthouses for the first time in 13 years - and covered bridges after an even longer drought. We also hung out with family from all over, and oh yeah - there was a total solar eclipse...

I'm ready!

No photos will ever do justice to the experience of witnessing this with one's own eyeballs, but here's what the old Nikon saw...

See ya in a few, sun...

[gasp]

I'll have a corona, thanks.

See? It's all downhill from there. Trust me - it is. Cheers to May for baseball, a nephew's hope-filled high school graduation, and a teeny turtle...

Let's lose to the O's in 12!

What the hell, man? Put me down!

I don't remember anything about June, except that we had a little outbreak of weak Maryland and Virginia tornadoes, and they were too close for comfort. So, no toast for you, June.

Mostly cheers for July. The Olympics were fun. Helping a relative move for the third time in five years was not. Biden dropping out of the election put a bit of a charge into a lot of people. DC was kind of abuzz, really. Otherwise - hazy, hot, and humid.

Cheers, August. You too were hazy, hot, and humid. 

"It's too freakin' hot - even on the white part of the car."

September. meh. Thanks to [Maris]'s employer, we got to experience ballpark amenities to which we're hardly accustomed - and a great view of our scrappy young rebooting Nats...

...and keep 'em comin'

Still not really baseball, to me, but fun!

Predictably (unless you don't know me - hi, I'm Joe!), I can almost always raise a glass to October, because OBX gluttony and sloth vacations are the BEST...

First, fancy drinks. Food not pictured.

Don't wake me for sunrises that don't look like this.

I fell asleep again. What day is it?

Visible aurora in Kill Devil Hills, NC. WHAT??

Mostly, November can just go eff off and die. It knows what it did. Even if I was utterly ignorant of politics and democracy and autocracy and oligarchs and all that stuff - to feel the energy in DC on the 5th, versus every day since is just criminal. We'll see how it all unfolds. As Yoda said, "Always in motion is the future." *sigh*

Finally, let's give December her due. Here's to you, final month of 2024. We got all kinds of busy with trees in convertibles (they know me at the fire station, now), and we took [Maris]'s gnomes to work, and we rocked out with our old friends the Trans-Siberian Orchestra...

Sometimes it's unseasonably warm for this. Not so, today.

First Class, all the way...

"Morale here must be through the roof!"

"Get some big donations - we wanna ring the bells!"

Trying to match Chris' energy...

A lot like the eclipse, it's hard to adequately photograph.

((devil horns for these two on the cranes))

That's all, folks. Raise a glass to 2024. Whether you're saying "good riddance," or "OMG you're gonna look like paradise, a few weeks from now," cheers to you, and you, and you - wherever you are. Enjoy yourself - it's later than you think.

And I'll leave you with these gentle reminders...

(probably)

"We're ready. Keep your hats pointy, everyone!"

Good Night, and Happy New Year!

Crunch Time At Work - An Ode (Okay, "Ode" Is A Little Strong...)

[Maris] enjoying crunch time - Photo by Joe

This will be quick, because if I don't keep it short, I'll just end up whining, and NOBODY wants that. Throughout my working life, I have held job after job where there's a distinct busy season. I know this is not uncommon, but I seem to have invented a "career path" where the crunchiness of the crunch times has increased with each new job. 

It started with retail. Sweet Zombie Jeebus, the whole last quarter of each year was a nightmare of twelve-hour shifts, increasingly-stressed and obnoxious customers, and the flu. It's a rite of passage for a lot of young workers - or, it was, when malls were still a thing, but I'm here to tell you, the only reason we didn't all go postal every January was because we were too exhausted to bother.

My next job didn't have a busy season, and it was wonderful and I loved it until it went to hell and I got laid off. The job after that had monthly crunch times for those of us tasked with processing orders. Salespeople are terrible to begin with, but their customers are just as bad. Knowing that we were a public company that had to report its monthly numbers to the board - and to the shareholders - customers knew the best deals were to be had when salesdudes were desperate to make their quotas on the last day of the month. We'd be in the office until 11pm every month - and don't even get me started on that company's YEAR-END. Moving on...

Then there was the good ol' VORTEX OF DOOM. Same M.O. as the previous job, but fortunately, they managed to only go through that nonsense every quarter-end. It was still ridiculous, of course. Roughly 85 percent of each quarter's bookings came in over the course of a couple of days. It was grueling, but kinda cool, as I was the only person managing incoming orders, so A) I felt super-important, and B) the sales team started bribing/thanking me with bottles of expensive booze. 

Joe enjoying crunch time (my hair was longer then) - Photo by The Internet

For the fourteenth year, I'm embarking on my busy time at Beloved Employer. We're a large nonprofit, so a LOT of our donors only give (or give more) at the end of the year. I don't have the actual numbers, but our mail/gift volumes go sky high from about Thanksgiving to New Year's - with the processing of said gifts stretching through at least half of January. Behold...

"This is just from one day?" eBFFs tryin' to stay helpful - Photo by Joe

Last year, I took on the processing of the "major" gifts. It's cool - a lot of wealthy people get extremely generous at year-end. We handle their gifts carefully, and extra work is involved, blah blah blah, and the volume becomes insane - mainly because, thanks to COVID and the remote-izing of almost everyone, I'm once again THE ONLY PERSON doing this work - in a $200 million organization. So, yeah. My usual cherub-like demeanor goes into hibernation for about two months, and my family (and friends, if I had any) wonder why I zombie my way through the holidays like someone who just worked 12 hours and still has a huge pile of work on his desk just waiting for him, taunting him, belittling and insulting him. Pushing him down and taking his lunch money (which is fine, because who has time for lunch).

But here's the thing...

I kind of dig this nonsense. I get to feel essential for a hot minute. I get a bunch of overtime pay (this would be a VERY different story, if I were an exempt employee). I get a nice reminder that my org does work that people just GIVE US MONEY - Sometimes a LOT of money - to do, and year-end is like a couple of months of that concept on steroids. It's brutal, and it (almost) ruins the holidays for me, but there's an adrenaline rush to be had, and I'm all about rushes, right?

2021 "Resolutions" - A Self-assessment

Not "weird," exactly. Photo by Joe

  

Before I get into my month-late Doomed New Year's Resolutions for 2022, I thought it might behoove me (yeah - I said behoove, so what) to take a look at last year's (such as they were), and see how I did. As you'll recall, I had a comprehensive list - and I even used bullet points. I know - fancy! 

I began by lamenting the Cat-5 dumpster fire that engulfed us in January 2021, and by declaring that my intention was to find the horizon and remind myself that all storms end. Eventually. Result: FAIL. Not my fault! I actually do see the horizon - quite often in fact, but the storm continues to rage, and it is sentient and malicious and promises to get worse or die trying. I'll keep working on this one in 2022, because what choice have I got?

Next, I promised to be twisted, and resolved to get the real camera(s) out and take some weird pictures. Result: FAIL. Oh, I took a few odd pictures...

Halloween Ice In Gatorade - Photo by Joe

[Maris]'s Gnomes Watching Miss Triple X-Mas - Photo by Joe

...Still watching. Photo still by Joe

Still a FAIL, though, for these were shot with my trusty iPhone, which is no slouch - but not exactly my Nikon - and two of 'em are from the very same minute! Wanna know how much action my Nikon saw in 2021? It shot eleven frames in total. Here's the best and weirdest one...

Yep. It's a bunny. Photo by Joe and his poor neglected D-80

See? Fail. Moving on...

• If the country continues to burn, I'm gonna toast some marshmallows. Result: FAIL. Not a single marshmallow was toasted. This year, for sure...
  
• I will become a better pickpocket, and not get caught all the time. Result: Qualified success. I didn't get caught once. See, you never fail if you don't try!
  
• I guess I'll try (harder) to avoid the plague like the plague. Result: SUCCESS! I totally didn't get the plague in 2021. Not even a little bit. As far as I know.
  
• Once the smoke clears - and yes, there will be smoke - I'm going to go downtown and take a good, long sniff, just to prove to myself that even the foulest four-year stenches can dissipate. Result: Qualified success. I was at Nats Park - not downtown. Smelled wonderful, though!
  
• I will finally find an editor or agent or something, and try to get my 2013 novel published. You guys know anyone? Result: FAIL. What is wrong with me???
  
• I'm going to go through the building where I work, and take down all the calendars. They're all stuck on March 2020, and they make me sad sometimes. Result (you would not believe the trouble I'm having typing "Result," today!): FAIL. That would've been too much work. I just took down the ones in my department.
  
• I will see the stars for what they are, and feel the cumulative age of their light. Result: SUCCESS! Kind of a cheat, though, because I'm already really good at this.
  
• Two words: ferrett-juggling. I guess that's one hyphenated word. Whatever. Gonna need one more ferret for this. Result: see below...
  
• I resolve to get one more endangered black-footed ferret, for the ferret-juggling, if [Maris] says yes. Result: see below...
• [Maris] said no. It'll have to be 2 ferrets and a panda. Result: FAIL. (sigh...)
• I'm going to get my grilled cedar-plank salmon to turn out as perfectly as my late father-in-law's always did. Result (copying/pasting "Result," now!): FAIL. I actually did attempt this one, and it wasn't bad - just a far cry from his.
• Gonna find my Ebn-Ozn t-shirt. Result: OH FFS I FORGOT TO LOOK FOR MY EBN-OZN T-SHIRT! A goal for 2022...
• Mirrored contacts. I've wanted them since I was fourteen. Result: FAIL. Who am I kidding?
  
• I resolve to take the Christmas tree down. Result: Success! Too easy.
  
• I will learn to like snow. HAHAHAHAHA just seeing if you're paying attention. Result: HAHAHAHAHA.
• Drink more water. I'm not going to do this. I'm telling YOU to drink more water. Please. Result: HA!
• Okay, I'll drink more water, too. There's water in gin, right? Result: If there is a trace of water in martinis, this was a resounding success.
• I will laugh at the typo on my 10 years of service certificate at work, every day - instead of rolling my eyes at it. Result: Qualified success. I don't look at it every day.
• I will demand a better future. Result: Technically I did this, and continue to do it, all the time. I even try on occasion to help make a better future - but have you any idea how HARD that is? It's like work.
• I will stop making lists. Result: FAIL.
• I will stop making lists. Result: FAIL.
• I will stop repeating myself. Result: FAIL.
• See what I did there? Ha!
  
• And I will hold [Maris]'s hand more - especially when she's trying to type. [blogger's note: on my phone, I have a shortcut set up so that when I type two m's, I get the full [Maris]. I keep trying that on this laptop, and obviously it doesn't work, and it wasn't until about the third try that I realized why.] Result: Success, I think. We're pretty committed to frequent hand-holding. Shut up - it's cute.
• I resolve to be a little smarter, maybe. Result: FAIL. Not my fault, though! You can't become smarter. More knowledgeable/less ignorant - sure. But not smarter.

There. Still here? Wow - you really are good sports - both of you! I promise to make my 2022 resolutions list shorter, and to use copy/paste more.

See you soon!

 

The Storm

 

A storm...

"Life is a shitstorm, in which art is our only umbrella."

- Mario Vargas Llosa

 

I've been thinking about New Year's resolutions - my own, and those of my (which here means John Hodgman's) 700 hoboes. Lately, thinking has been a struggle - and creativity, normally one of my core strengths as a human, has become depressingly hard to summon. A few months ago, I scrolled back to the beginning of this blog and reread every post. I cringed at a few lingering typos, and at some clunky prose and even clunkier ideas, but I laughed a lot, and came away feeling pretty good about a lot of it. I also couldn't help but notice that all that fun and frolic and productivity has dropped off rather precipitously since sometime in 2015. Over the past five years, I've managed to peck out about seven little blog posts per year. In the five years before 2016, I averaged 31 (with that drop-off starting in 2015). You might see where I'm going with this.

Oh, tell me you're NOT going to attempt to blame five years of writer's block on the President!

Okay, firstly - it really is a shitstorm, out there. Look:

See? Stormy! Told you!

Secondly - I haven't truly had writer's block. Over those same five years, I did manage to crank out five more of my little Camp NaNoWriMo novels - and one or two of them may even have some potential. And the few blog posts I've emitted haven't been bad. It's just a challenge to create, lately. Joy is in short supply, and hope has been outlawed.

But, yeah. I kinda DO blame my personal creativity drought on the bloviating tangerine Mussolini currently stealing the silverware and setting fire to the White House and the nation, flipping the Monopoly board over as he tantrums his way toward the door. Okay - technically, I blame the storm, but we all know it is partly of his making. You've seen it. It's real. It's everywhere. It's bad. It's a shitstorm. No need to waste time describing it. It started in 2015, and has built and built and built its way to the Category Five monster that rages around all of us, today.

So. What to do? First, I'll find the horizon. Remember that all storms end. Eventually:

Yes, I know the horizon was visible in the first two pics. Shut up.

 

Second, if I can't be funny or creative, then dammit I'm gonna be twisted. Like, baby-hobo-in-a-blender twisted. Here:

America.

That picture will be old enough to rent a car, this year, and it still says more than most of my other photographs. I resolve to get the old Nikon out - and maybe the ancient 35mm Minoltas - and take some weird pictures. There! A resolution! I probably won't do it.

Ooh! Wait! Here come some more!

• If the country continues to burn, I'm gonna toast some marshmallows.
• I will become a better pickpocket, and not get caught all the time.
  
• I guess I'll try (harder) to avoid the plague like the plague.
• Once the smoke clears - and yes, there will be smoke - I'm going to go downtown and take a good, long sniff, just to prove to myself that even the foulest four-year stenches can dissipate.
• I will finally find an editor or agent or something, and try to get my 2013 novel published. You guys know anyone?
• I'm going to go through the building where I work, and take down all the calendars. They're all stuck on March 2020, and they make me sad sometimes.
• I will see the stars for what they are, and feel the cumulative age of their light.
  
• Two words: ferrett-juggling. I guess that's one hyphenated word. Whatever. Gonna need one more ferret for this.
• I resolve to get one more endangered black-footed ferret, for the ferret-juggling, if [Maris] says yes.
• [Maris] said no. It'll have to be 2 ferrets and a panda.
• This year, I will find a new place to hang the cute little lighthouse cross-stitch my sister gave [Maris] and me when we got married. The new towels in that bathroom don't quite go with the colors in the cross-stitch, and while it's not a problem at this time, I fear it could become one. UPDATE: [Maris] would rather just change the towels. Crisis averted!
  
• I'm going to get my grilled cedar-plank salmon to turn out as perfectly as my late father-in-law's always did.
• Gonna find my Ebn-Ozn t-shirt.
• Mirrored contacts. I've wanted them since I was fourteen.
• Who am I kidding? I will never get my grilled salmon to come out the way Dad-in-law's did. 
• I resolve to take the Christmas tree down.
• I will learn to like snow. HAHAHAHAHA just seeing if you're paying attention.
  
• Drink more water. I'm not going to do this. I'm telling YOU to drink more water. Please.
• Okay, I'll drink more water, too. There's water in gin, right?
• I will laugh at the typo on my 10 years of service certificate at work, every day - instead of rolling my eyes at it.
• I will demand a better future.
  
• I will stop making lists.
• I will stop making lists.
  
• I will stop repeating myself.
• See what I did there?
  
• And I will hold [Maris]'s hand more - especially when she's trying to type. [blogger's note: on my phone, I have a shortcut set up so that when I type two m's, I get the full [Maris]. I keep trying that on this laptop, and obviously it doesn't work, and it wasn't until about the third try that I realized why.]
• I resolve to be a little smarter, maybe.

Okay, that's all for now. If you're still here, you are a trooper, and I applaud your patience. Thanks for climbing inside my head for a few minutes. It's time for my martini. I will toast to the end of the storm - and to the art that protects us in the meantime...

Photo by mm - see? I did it again! Photo by [Maris]

 

2018: It's Not "All Good" - At All - But It's All Good

This photograph is old enough to drink - and it probably should. I know I've used it in previous posts, but it's just so apropos, I couldn't help but bring it back. Look how "great" Bart is, again. So much great!

Me: Hey, 2018. Happy last day of your life!

2018: Hi, you! Happy-- wait. What?

Me: Nothing. So. Here we are. It's December 31st...

2018: Uh oh...

Me: Yeah. Uh oh. I knew we'd end up here, because I'm nothing if not a pragmatist - and a realist. So, let's do the band-aid thing.

2018: The what? And you're a what?

Me: This is a band aid, and I'm ripping it off. We're breaking up.

2018: That's dumb. What a dumb idea. I'm the best year you've ever had, and you know it. It's all good, baby.

Me: I'm pretty sure we agreed that "it's all good" was something that we were not saying, anymore. It's so... 1998. Also, calling me "baby?" No. We talked about that, too.

2018: You love it.

Me: I do not. So, listen - I said, at the end of 2017, that it would be a challenge for you to be worse than last year. That sounds almost cute, now. I'm sure it wasn't easy, and I admit that it was close, but congratulations, I guess. You did it. You kinda were.

2018: What are you talking about? I was great.

Me: Okay. At this point, I feel obligated to inform you that I know what gaslighting means.

2018: That sounds fake. I don't know about that fake news stuff. I was probably - lots of people have told me this - I was potentially the greatest year since ever.

Me: 

2018: Are you still there?

Me: I should go.

2018: We have nothing but fun. I don't see what the problem is. Remember March Madness? That was awesome.

Me: I don't remember March Madness.

2018: Well, what about that tax cut? I fixed everything with that. 

Me: You fixed literally nothing, and since I live in a "blue" state, I've spent 9 months living in fear of the refund I'm used to becoming a debt I'll owe, in a few months. Nice.

2018: But I brought much-needed rains...

Me: Floods. You brought floods - and record-breaking hurricanes and fires. You wiped a couple of nice little towns off the map and killed a bunch of people.

2018: They deserved it. They weren't my people.

Me: You're a unit of time. Isn't everyone your people?

2018: They didn't like me, so maybe they shouldn't have done what they did to get killed. It's not my fault. You're missing the point on purpose to make me look bad. Unfair!

Me: The "point?" What is this "point" that I'm missing? 

2018: The point is, I'm the greatest year possibly ever, and you can't admit it, because you've been brainwashed by 2016's deep-year operation, and it's sad. SAD! I treated you so fantastic, and you repay me by showing ZERO loyalty. You're very low IQ, and I just realized you're very ugly, and a loser.

Me: I think we're done, here. 

2018: Wait! Wait! What about the good times? Even your fake memory can't cover up the good times.

Me: Like what? What good times?

2018: Um... Simple Minds?

Sarah, Charlie, Cherisse, Jim, Gordie, Ged,, and a sold-out 9:30 Club.

Me: Okay, that was pretty special - but I think the band and the audience provided that magic...

2018: Nope. All me! I did that! But you can't bear to give me any credit! Disgraceful!

Me: Whatever, '18. I'm hanging up, now...

2018: But what about when I killed those children because their parents tried to save them by bringing them to the US without being white and financially secure? That was hilarious!

Me: Are you kidding me??

2018: Okay, okay. I have to go, anyway. And I never liked you. But I have just two words to say to you...

Me: *sigh* Two words. Fine. What?

2018: Lord. Stanley's. Cup.

The Greatest Player, with the metallic manifestation of his greatest dream.

Me:

2018: See?

Me: You had your moments. Let's just say goodbye.

2018: Okay. I-broke-up-with-you-first-I-never-even-liked-you-and-you're-ugly-and-low-IQ-and-I-win-bye!

Me. *sigh*

2017... It's Not Me - It's You

Not sure why I bothered trying to capture this, but you get the gist...

2017: What are you doing?

Me: I'm chilling the martini glasses and waiting for you. Where are you?

2017: Oh, I'm not coming.

Me: What? Why not? What's up?

2017: I think we should break up.

Me: Really? By phone? Huh. I kind of thought you would tell me by text - or maybe via Twitter. Anyway, you're right. It's time. You're terrible, and I should never have started seeing you to begin with. So, more crabcakes and fancy nibbles for me tonight, then. Good - I'm really hungry.

2017: Yes. I know it stings, but--

Me: No, no - I'm fine. You've been awful to me almost since day one. We're clearly not right for each other. In the roster of years with whom I've lived, you're definitely one of the worst.  The only reason I haven't broken up with you is that I'm afraid of what you'll do to me - on social media and otherwise.

2017: You'll recover from this trauma. I'm sorry to ruin your New Year's Eve.

Me: I'm fine, really. You just made my night! It's all good!

2017: I can tell you're hurting. I never meant to hurt you, but I should tell you that I've been seeing someone else.

Me: See? You don't even listen to me. I told you, I'm totally cool with-- Wait. What?

2017: I've sort of been seeing someone.

Me: Really? Who?

2017: Everybody.

Me: Huh. Well, obviously this is for the best. Okay, take care of yourself, 2017...

2017: Wait - don't hang up yet!

Me: Okay...

2017: I know you're in shock. Do you need me to come over and talk about this? We could have a goodbye date.

Me: That's a terrible idea. You're an abusive monster, and I'm not going to endure any more of your people-slaughtering, or your Tom Petty-killing, or your racist, sexist, infantile leaders, or your natural disasters, or any of it. I'm going to go make my celebratory freedom martini, now...

2017: What do you mean, 'celebratory?' If I didn't know better, I'd say you're happy that I'm breaking up with you.

Me: Wow. You don't know better. I am happy that you're breaking up with me. I should never have started up with you. Listen - let's not make this ugly. I'm good. You're... you. Let's part ways amicably. 

2017: Maybe you'll be less distraught--

Me: I'm so not distraught.

2017: --if we reminisce about all the good times. You know - sort of soften the blow...

Me: What blow? And really, other than most of baseball season and the week we spent apart in October, what good times? 

2017: There was that Bruce Springsteen concert, and the Cubs finally won the World Series. Remember? So cool!

Me: Those were both in 2016! And seriously, it would take me all night to recite just a quarter of the veritable rota of horrors, tragedies, lies, and insults to my intelligence that you have wrought for at least the last 345 days.Take care, '17. I'm outta here.

2017: But! What about... Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands? That was pretty sweet.

Me: Are you kidding, right now?

2017: What?

Me: I'm not doing this. I did this with 2010, and it was pointless. I'm hanging up, now.

2017: No! One more thing! Then you can go.

Me: Ugh. What?

2017: Okay, I know I've been a pretty bad year for almost every person on the planet...

Me: Every good person, at least. A lot of the shitty ones love you.

2017: So, just think how much better your next year will look, by comparison. 

Me: I never say that something can't be worse, but yes. It will be a challenge for 2018 to be worse than you. So, good job. You've managed to get us all to reset our expectations - straight back to rock-bottom.

2017: You're welcome.

Me: Exactly. Okay. Hanging up. That's it, 2017. Your damage may last a generation or more, but at least you can't add anything to it, after tonight. Goodbye.

2017: The eclipse was good, though, right?

Me: *sigh* Yes, if I live to be a thousand, I will never be able to adequately describe the divinity and perfection of the eclipse. You got me, there.

2017: I win!

Me: ((CLICK))


Happy New Year, everyone! Today's nonsense was prompted by the OUR WRITE SIDE "Two For Tuesday" words Rota and Roster.