Broken New Years Resolutions

First off, I have decided I need to find newer and more inventive ways to make fun of Lance Armstrong. I don't really have anything against the guy except maybe his bike team color choice, but in the interest of not beating a dead horse I am trying to reign in my urge to refer to him as "Lefty" in conversations. First of all, that's some heartless shit on my part because a) I don't really know for sure which testicle he had removed, and b) Cancer isn't really something you should joke about (example: the phrase "serious as cancer") unless you've experienced it yourself first hand, and c) On a purely mojoic (yeah, I just made that word up) basis, joking about someone else's testicular cancer is just asking to have one of your own lopped off. Still, sort of like a midget Tom Brady, Lance is just a little too easy to take shots at, and I, more than anything else, am one lazy motherfucker - which leads me to my second broken new years resolution: cussing less.

OK, let's be specific: To not use as much profanity. Cussing sounds like the cusser is pissed off. Not the case here. I actually like myself OK and am pretty comfortable with my status as a motherfucker. In fact, I have three beautiful children to show from the deal, so motherfucking has been very, very good to me, and yet, I realize that there are lots of people who find the word "motherfucker" at least mildly offensive. Perhaps their mothers weren't MILFs or their experiences with incest weren't as positive as they would have liked them to be - regardless, I would like to offend fewer people - even and especially victims of incest, and so, resolving to cuss less seemed like a good idea. Sadly, I haven't been resolute enough to make it happen. I've read that I should institute a "swear jar" but I don't really carry pocket change, so I'm fairly sure that would be a bust. I also tend to hang out with people who aren't strangers to profanity themselves. I am not committed enough either to go hang out with priests or convents (which might not be legal) or in day care centers (people my age who hang out in day care centers should probably be arrested preemptively anyway). So that pretty much leaves Bible thumpers who, for the most part, don't drink and who generally can't hold their liquor even when they do, and priests, who can drink all right but who are kind of creepy to hang out with for obvious reasons unless you're playing basketball or building homes with Habitat for Humanity. Conclusion: Broken Resolution.

There's also a resolution I haven't yet broken and I think I have a pretty good chance at keeping: I have resolved to not go to any place with bottle service. Currently that means Qua and Pangaea. I'm not saying it's not tempting to go just once if only to bag on the douches who actually spend money in those places, but as a philosophical experiment I am holding my ground. I think I have a good shot at this one. Why? I am not only a motherfucker, but I am a cheap motherfucker, so I am unwilling to pony up for a bottle service type bill, and, call this a character flaw, but I can't understand why anyone would spend a couple of hundred dollars on a bottle they could get for a fraction of the cost at a liquor store and then bring to the Carousel. Seems like they might be stuck up. I of course welcome all comers to convince me otherwise, but it would break my resolution. The one thing I do have on my side is that I have never been to Kenichi. Austin/Aspen. What am I? A fucking Kennedy?

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KEYWORDS FOR THIS POST

Lance Armstrong, Profanity, Bottle Service

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