Not enough tits and ass I say. You know, to stimulate people.
On a personal level, well what can I say? This time last year I was overweight, oddly dressed, without girlfriend, without a clearly defined life plan and socially retarded. I ate too much ice cream and not enough fruit, was unable to communicate my thoughts with clarity, was down, was out, had ingrown toe-nails, a rubbish hair cut, small penis and a foot fetish. I had never donated money to any charity of any kind, didn’t understand the basic principles behind why I would donate money to anyone and I listened to Britney Spears. I thought Natalie Portman was friggin’ hot. And not to forget, this time last year I didn’t have a blog.
Well, very little has changed baby but I am a new man anyway. To the swarming flocks of women, I say “Get away, get away. I cannot handle all of you at once so form an orderly queue and take a number. Yes, even you, Jessica Alba. But shut your mouth first.”
To my realisable future prospects, I say, “I have a new ability to multitask, so find a partner and lets line dance.”
And to the numerical system I say, “Casio calculator baby. No more are you a road block to success, so frig off the concept of zero.”
Yes, that is fucking right. Since this time last year, just nine months ago in fact, I got me my own blog. Yes, I rock. Consequently I have magnified figuratively as a person, even developing my own internal power system to generate the enormous amount of energy required by my vast excellence. Yes again, I rock with magnificent splendour. I can even be seen from space (with a sufficient wi-fi connection).
But all of this is moot, were it not for my ambitions for the next twelve months. Bear in mind, as I list my steps to domination, that I devised a complicated and completely reliable system for determining my ideal progress in the coming months. A system that is based on the same principles the machine that plays chess uses to win, whatever its name is. Certain factors are taken into account such as my general success in the past twelve months, the amount of time masturbating now versus as a teenager and the movement of the tides as predicted by Galileo. So, without further self-gratifying, I present to you my totally achievable New Year resolutions:
- Go to the moon and eat its cheese.
- Make a movie.
- Marry Natalie Portman and consummate.
- Go back in time before I married Natalie Portman, sleep with Rachel McAdams and then break Ms. Portmans’ little heart.
- Marry Rachel McAdams and consummate.
- Become a Jedi.
- Kill my allies, join the dark forces and commission a statue in my own honour.
- Make a kick ass folk album, and then disappear into the wilderness only to reappear to play half songs at obscure Eastern European festivals.
- Prove everybody else wrong.
- Finally, I resolve to remove my entire supply of human skin and replace it with the skin of a silver back gorilla, thus becoming more like my hero King Kong.