Resolutions: Redux

Over the past 24 years, I've read hundreds of books, watched thousands of hours of TV, had a James Franco airport sighting (at least, I hope it was him.  My entire world will crumble if that turns out to be a lie), guest-starred on Smallville (that's a big lie.  But it's one I tell a lot, so take note), and I've learned exactly one thing:

Talking about New Year's resolutions becomes super lame after January 3rd.  Therefore, if this post is ever going to happen, it has to happen TONIGHT. Let's all revel in the sense of urgency, shall we?

Unfortunately, I was really tired at work today.  Probably because after leaving there at 3 am yesterday, I stayed online until 6 creating this blog.  The problem with staying up a couple hours later is that instead of being awesome punch-drunk tired, you're just sleepy- tired. 

Sleepy doesn't yield great lies. 

However, while discussing resolutions with some co-workers, I announced my intention to stop saying "I know, right?!" as a response to... just about everything.  I was careful to explain that my overuse of that phrase gives off the impression that I'm an empty-headed Valley Girl, and that I should probably make it more obvious that I'm perfectly capable of discussing Russian politics, labeling various lobes of the brain, or pontificating about the symbolism of pear trees in Their Eyes Were Watching God.  Or I could make it clear that I know what pontificate means. 

I could even talk about how I write a blog where I tell ridiculous lies and talk about James Franco constantly (Just wait.  It's coming). 

Anyway, THAT RESOLUTION WAS A LIE.  I have zero intention of giving up my favorite rejoinder.  As much as I babble on about how much I'd love to have serious, deep discussions with people, the simple truth boils down to this: no one I talk to cares about pear trees.  And really, if I started talking to someone about high heels or smelly people, and that person started blathering on about feminist literature, I'd probably be a teeny bit put off.  And then I wouldn't want to be friends with that person, and she'd have no one to talk to or go see TRON with.  She'd learn the hard way that when someone says, "I can't believe that guy has Who Let The Dogs Out as a ringtone!" the only, only, correct response is "I know, RIGHT?!"  Thus, those three words have just saved her from a lifetime of loneliness and ostracism.  Those words are heroes. 

Despite being too tired to tell anyone about my adventures in Singapore a few years ago, (during which I not only shared a hookah with Tony Blair while he was vising on super-important British business, but I also had a mystic tattoo the secret of life on the back of my leg, where it's impossible for me to read), I managed to slip in a few just-for-fun lies.  My apologies to the following people: 

Guy behind me at the vending machine: I don't know why I told you I have a three-year-old.  But really, when you said, "Oh, buying those fruit snacks, huh?" I felt like I needed to justify buying two packs of them.  And since I'm pretty sure grown-ups don't eat fruit snacks, let alone subsist on them for days at a time, I had to think quick.  And sorry for telling you the story about how "Caroline" got a kitten for Christmas.  I don't know why that happened, except I felt like I needed to develop her character a little more.  You know, so that a stranger could believe my lie.

Everyone who just read this entry: I have almost no memory of Their Eyes Were Watching God, except that there was a character named Sop-in-the-Bucket (I think).  If you try to talk to me about imagery and symbolism, I will stare at you blankly. 

And then blink and say, "I know, right? It's so powerful, the way Zora Neale Hurston writes that.  You know, she was like, best friends with my grandmother's cousin..."