Four New Year's resolutions, just in case

I learned about Penelope's New Year resolution during a search to find my own. I also learned that Penelope is still dating Tom Cruise, who probably doesn't care if Penelope ever learns to cook.

I just hope Penelope and Tom vow to make a movie I can understand this year. I went to see "Vanilla Sky" last week and still can't figure out what happened. You shouldn't have to think when you're eating popcorn.

According to the same article, Laura Bush says she plans to watch what she eats in 2002. That didn't help me much either.

When you're the First Lady you don't have to watch what you eat because you have people to do that for you. As a matter of fact, Laura Bush can probably force a Secret Service agent to eat food for her.

Besides, I already watch what I eat. I watch a donut and then I shove it in my mouth. I watch French fries and I do the same thing. I don't recall ever eating something that I didn't first watch.

So I don't need to remind myself to watch what I eat. I don't want to learn to cook. I don't want to exercise more because my knees are already on the verge of collapse.

I don't want to be nicer because the people I'm not nice to deserve it. I don't smoke. I can't bring about world peace and I will never break the world indoor mile record.

That doesn't leave me a lot of options.

Let's see ... what did I mean to do in 2001 that I forgot to. Learn to speak Spanish? That's one. I can ask the cab driver to take me to the library and I can order up to 10 beers in Spanish. I can even ask directions to the bathroom.

Come to think of it, that's about all the Spanish I could possibly ever need. So forget that one.

How about promising to spend more time watching football? I have a new television set in my room, but my kids always have it tuned in to cartoons. One sits in the living room watching cartoons and the other in my bedroom watching cartoons. I could vow to kick my kids out of my room more in 2002, but that could possibly conflict with my resolution to spend more time with them.

Too much pressure.

How about I resolve instead to buy a television set for the bathroom in 2002? That could work nicely. My kids hate bathrooms. It's an evil place where they have to brush their teeth and wash their face.

One down, three to go. It's best to have at least four resolutions in the event three don't work out.

I suppose I could force myself to take more naps in 2002. I've never been a strong napper. I've tried to lie on the couch on a Sunday afternoon for a few winks, but my son always jumps on my stomach. It was OK when he was 2, but he's 9 now and it hurts bad. Certainly not something you could sleep through.

That's two. Lock my son in his room and take a nap.

Let's see ... I need something really meaningful ... something humanitarian ... something spiritual ... something that doesn't hurt, or cause me to be hungry ... something that I can remember after today ....

The Carson City Bypass!

I promise to only mention the Carson City Bypass a combined 200 times in my columns this year. I've been way too hard on NDOT over its complete failure to deliver a complete bypass after we've been waiting 30 freaking years for one and paying a special gasoline tax for that it just makes me want to ... whoa ... there I go again ... out of control ... take a deep breath ... count to 10 ... be one with nature ... that's better ... heart beat is slowing ... inner peace ... where was I?

New Year resolutions. I believe that makes four. Television in the bathroom, lock my son in his room, take naps, limit rants on Carson City Bypass to maximum of 200 mentions during 52-week period.

Just to be safe, I probably ought to keep one in reserve. Perhaps I might take a shot at the world indoor mile record after all. I'm only five minutes from it now. Close enough to smell it.

So there it is. They're in writing. Etched in newsprint for all to see. I'll let you know how they're going in a mid-year state-of-the-state, so to speak.

In the meantime, enjoy your New Year and don't make any promises you can't keep.

Jeff Ackerman is publisher and editor of the Nevada Appeal.


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