Love at first sight?

A few weeks ago, I was out with my best friend at a bar we frequent fairly often when two slightly older and slightly below average looking men approached us. I was hoping it was my friend they were interested in, but when the older looking of the two men looked right at me and said "I saw you from across the bar, and I fell in love," I quickly gave up hope. He said he liked my "outfit" and that when he noticed I was wearing glasses, he fell in love. (Odd that the glasses did him in... he wasn't even wearing a pair himself...) I tried my best to be polite while assuring him he was indeed not in love, not with me anyway. He blabbered on until I honestly couldn't take another second, so I pretty rudely grabbed my friend's arm, dragged her to the bar and promptly ordered two jagerbombs (classy, I know).

Maybe 10 minutes or so later when I didn't return to my new admirer, he approached me again. This time his strategy was different. With a little bit of anger in his voice, he said "I'm leaving, but I just wanted to let you know that you just walked away from the best thing that ever happened to you." Word for word. I swear. My best friend will verify – if you know her, ask her.

I'm not going to pretend like I don't like a little male attention every once in a while, and I generally can handle unwanted attention very well. But "I'm in love with you" from a stranger, isn't exactly what I was looking for. As far as male attention goes, pathetically enough, that's the most exciting it's been for me recently. I want a guy I was "seeing" for a few months to invite me to a party he's throwing for 50 of his closest friends (I had plans for the night of the party anyway, but that's not the point) or to, I don't know, not "see" other girls too, instead I get a balding over-dressed stranger falling in love with me – it's like a mean joke.

So Mr. Love-at-First-Sight, let me be the first to tell you, it does not exist, especially at Irish bars. Trust me, and hopefully it'll save you a future heartache. Besides, I'm a cold-hearted bitch who can't connect; you'll find someone better.

Harry Potter & The Gyno

Harry Potter and the gynecologist - clearly one has nothing to do with the other, or so you'd think. I had a gyno appointment the other day, and I, of course, had my copy of Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows in my bag with me considering it just came out this past Saturday (Actually finished the book today - It was great). So there I am lying on the examining table in my gown with my leg in the stirrups freezing my ass off, and my gynecologist notices my copy of Harry Potter sitting on the chair. She apparently is also a Harry Potter fan and starts asking me questions about Horcruxes and Lord Voldemort during my exam. I don't know why maybe it has something to do with the innocence of it being a children's book, but I found a gynecological exam an extremely inappropriate situation in which to discuss Harry Potter and his quest to defeat evil...

I Heart Hicks

Memorial Day weekend I went camping with my brother and a small group of his friends in central Pennsylvania out near Williamsport somewhere. We actually drove through "World's End State Park"... An omen that maybe we should have turned back? It seemed like we were in a county transplanted from Alabama to only a few hours northwest of Philadelphia.

Overall, the trip was fun, but mostly because I got to learn so much about a class of America I have had little contact with prior. Here are some things I learned:

1. People who live in trailer parks actually go on vacation to other trailer parks
2. People really do wear those "I'm with stupid" t-shirts
3. Camouflage is still very in, especially hats
4. The mullet is certainly not a thing of the past
5. 90% of children over the age of 10 know how to drive, and do.
6. Laws are a lot more lax - especially those concerning gun control, fire works, speed limits, etc.
7. Some people come up with very creative names for their dogs like "Hound Dog" or "Big Boy"
8. Everyone drives an American-made pick-up truck or SUV
9. Definitely don't show up to a demolition derby in a foreign-made sports car
10. Actually, just don't show up to a demolition derby at all- I promise no good'll come of it.
11. And finally, yes, their votes count just the same as ours do.
    

Clean Sheets

I just washed my sheets in an attempt to wash away all of the recent sins committed on them... obviously kidding, my study schedule didn't permit time for sinning of any sort. Anyway, when my sheets came out the dryer, it reminded me of being a little kid watching Saturday morning cartoons and my dad throwing a pile of warm sheets on top of me. There are very few things in this world that make me happier than clean sheets. Someday when I am sickeningly rich, I am going to have my maid clean my 320942395894356 thread count sheets every single day - mark my word.

Doctor, Doctor

I don't generally have anything against doctors. I work at a hospital; I have doctors as bosses and family friends; and a good number of my friends are going to be doctors some day. But there is one thing that really bothers me - the title of "doctor". Inside the hospital walls and within any other sort of professional setting, to a certain extent I understand calling people "Dr. Smith" or "Dr. Jones" etc., even though the the social workers, nurses, accountants, whoever are all called by their first names. But outside of a professional setting, since when is it normal to refer to people by the level of their education?? I doubt I'll ever be able to convince anyone to call me Counselor or Esquire. My brother has an MBA; should I start calling him Master Butler? Or Master Mike? Maybe I'll start refering to my younger teacher brother as Bachelors + 15 Dan. One of my friends used to date this guy with a G.E.D, and I don't think even I could have gotten away with calling him GED Anthony....

Sex Tax Deduction

It's so weird how sometimes your life is reflected in your dreams. For example, a few days ago within 12 hours I received three really strange phone calls: one from an ex-boyfriend being surprisingly and even disturbingly nice right before I went to bed; another in the middle of the night from a guy who... well, I am having a hard time putting our relationship into words... one of those ongoing but absolutely not going anywhere kind of things; and then first thing in the morning (9am to be accurate, I don't think I've ever called one of my friends pre-noon for a non-emergent conversation...) from a guy "friend" who doesn't think that we should be "friends" anymore (I didn't protest). Anyway, that night in my dream all of my ex-boyfriends and ex-love interests, etc. were sitting lined up in the living room of my parents' house and I had to choose a husband from among them... I cried.

The next day I studied for my tax exam all day, committing excessive amounts of the Internal Revenue Code to memory. That night before I went to bed, like every night, I read some of a non-law related book. The book I am reading right now is about this affluent New England college in the 80's where all the kids do is a lot of drugs, drink excessively, and have lots of sex...I mean lots of sex, guys with guys, guys with girls, girls with girls... it's by the same guy who wrote American Psycho. In my dream that night, I was the personal accountant for the characters in the book, and I was trying to help them figure out their "sex deduction" on their income tax returns. Apparently, the deduction was a complicated formula taking into account how many people you've slept with as well as the pure number of times that you've had sex.

Maybe I am insane...

“E-mail is for geeks and pedophiles”

This story was posted once before, but I took it down due to some of its other content - Enjoy!

There is a relatively unknown danger in emailing a girl – she might be like me and make a really bad mistake - one bad enough to scare any guy away from emailing a love interest ever again. There is a classmate of mine who is significantly too short for me, not very attractive, but nice enough. However, he has – no, had - this habit of asking me out and making me feel pretty damn uncomfortable about it. He's given me his phone number a couple times via email, but I have always rather politely declined any invitations to hang out outside of school. I am sitting at my desk at my summer job bored out of my mind and I get an email from him saying, “Fancy seein' you yesterday. We should grab a drink sometime” and then he gives me his phone number (again). Crazy part is I hadn’t seen the guy in months. So I thought it was funny/creepy and proceeded to forward the email to a couple of my friends, each got a good laugh out of it. Then I decide to send it to my cousin, figuring she'd find it funny too. I write a long email calling him a creep, a caveman, making fun of how he doesn't take hints, even quoting parts of my friends emails about him, and hit send. 10 minutes later I realized I replied to his email by mistake. So, I actually sent this kid an incredibly nasty email calling him a creep just because he asked me out for a drink. I do realize that I am going to hell, and if it has a V.I.P. section, there’s a seat saved for me there… Lessons: 1) Don’t send mean emails, but if you do always double check the To: line first. 2) Don’t ask a girl out over email that has already rejected you to your face; she will make fun of you, either to her friends or accidentally to your inbox.

April Fools

Since St. Patty's Day, I have been honoring my Irish ancestors most appropriately by frequenting some fine drinking establishments. I was, of course, ever ridiculous. This past weekend some guy with terrible skin and a height problem (translation: was a good 3 inches shorter than me) was buying my roommate and I drinks so we let him stand near us and talk for a few minutes. Then he made some snide remark about me being from Jersey. I responded by requiring that he pump his fist every time he said my name. I wouldn't respond unless his "Meg" corresponded with an over-enthusiastic and likely (for him) embarrassing fist pump. He obliged and looked ridiculous.

It also recently became known that (once upon a time) I might have made out with a guy whose nickname is Slice. And by became known I obviously mean that my roommate told everyone. My friends, of course, have been giving me such a hard time... joking about me getting sliced, etc. At the bar the other day, one of my friends ordered a plate of lemon and orange slices. Then said.. "Meg, it's ok.. sticks and stones may break your bones, but names will never slice you." My response was "Wow, I am never drinking orange soda again." So everyone else feel free to make some Slice jokes... I'm hoping the joke will be killed by the end of the week.

Humpty Dumpty

I promised one of my friends that I would write a blog post about him and have spent the past half hour or so trying to think of a way I could be honest and still maintain his prized anonymity. Here's my best shot:

My friend has overcome some "life obstacles" beyond anything I can imagine. He has had his dreams shattered without any King's men to put them back together again, literally robbed of his truest passion. Yet he has accomplished far more in the past 5 years than most do in a lifetime. Only through daring determination (daring in that I, along with most, would likely have given up), does he have this markedly different, but healthy and "normal" life. I like to think that I am a challenge-oriented person, and that in the face of adversity I would muster what strength I have to push through it. Never having been tested in such an extreme way and admittedly having run from tough situations before, I, however, am less than certain about my ability to do what my friend has done.

Some descriptions of him imply a man of mythic proportions, which contrasts sharply to his short (or at least shorter than me) stature and slim frame. In truth, he is just as human as the rest of us, maybe even a little more so given the way in which his mortality has been tested. He is not perfect; besides his poor taste in music (ok, I secretly love R. Kelly too) he has made his fair share of mistakes finding it just as difficult as I do to know and do the right thing. We don't always agree; in fact, I fight more with him than all of my other friends combined, but at the end of the day, he's still a loyal friend.

He has learned lessons most of us would rather read about in inspirational books or cheesy Disney movies than actually have to live through, yet he is constantly looking to learn more. He likes being friends with me because I am unlike his other friends; he thinks I have something to teach him. The first time he said something along those lines to me I laughed, thinking he had to be kidding. What could I possibly teach him? I divide my time pretty evenly between bars and books. Books anybody can read, and we all know I'm not learning anything useful at bars. But after he explained himself, I began to better understand his point; the two of us are very different people with entirely different life experiences. In his view, I have as much to teach him as he has to teach me (although his current focus is on teaching me how to be a thug). I'm not sure how long we'll be friends, months or years, but I've already promised to teach him how to play both chess and pinochle (yes, oddly enough I know how to play pinochle). Someday maybe he'll even teach me to say things like "throw some D's on it" without sounding so ridiculous.

Oh and my apologies for the much more serious than normal post, but so it goes.

St. Patrick's Day

Last year I celebrated St. Patrick's Day in Ireland with a few of my favorite relatives. It was amazing in every way. So this year, I didn't have very high expectations having already experienced the ultimate St. Patty's Day. I, however, was not disappointed. Friday night the weather sucked so a friend and I decided we'd start the celebrating a night early. We went to an Irish bar for dinner around 7pm and stayed there (in the same bar stools) until close 7 hours later. My usually extremely docile friend was picking fights left and right, and I somehow managed to get a guy who works at the bar kicked out (in a typical drama-free night).

March 17th began with a hangover, which was quickly cured by some NCAA basketball and cheap beer. We got to the bars by lunchtime, drank until dinnertime, then took a half-time at Wendy's. Wendy's was the perfect location for some people watching. Similarly to Halloween, it seems that girls use St. Patty's Day as an excuse to dress and act like complete sluts. Also, there was this crazy probably homeless lady with huge frizzy red hair like the Magic School Bus teacher lady who was talking to herself. No joke, she was talking dirty talk to herself for like 10 minutes. Then, she got a little fed up with her imaginary partner and began to yell at him/her telling him she wasn't a cheap whore and all she was asking for was a little common decency.

We did make it back out to the bars for the night, came home a little earlier than usual, and two of us split an entire large pizza while watching Boondock Saints (perhaps my favorite movie). Overall, fantastic weekend -- and a great one to be Irish.

Pet Peeves De Jour

I actually don't even like the phrase "pet peeve", but here are a few of my current ones:

1. People pretending to be smart and say the "h" before the "w" in words like "what" and "why"
2. Girls who wear their bras so tight that their back fat kinda hangs over it, and on top of that wear shirts so tight that it is really noticeable.
3. Couples holding hands across the table (even worse when combined with staring longingly into each other eyes... I swear people really do this).
4. Women who are old enough to be my mother but shop in the Junior's department.
5. Those glasses that automatically tint and turn into sunglasses outside.
6. People who charge into an elevator, train, etc. before letting the people out.
7. People who hold the door open for you when you are far away so you have to run to the door to go through so they don't stand there for ten minutes, but you just wanted to stroll on through...
8. And then having to be all like "oh, THANKS so much!" when what you really want to say is "ass, you made me run"...actually, you made me do the shuffle feet jog.
9. People who act like they aren't impressed with my really cool magic trick because obviously it is impossible not to be impressed.

Vagina Jokes

Last weekend I went to Atlantic City with my family to celebrate two of my brothers' birthdays. The weekend was awesome, great food, great shopping, and great stories. One of the funniest things that happened the whole time was at a comedy show. The first comedian to come on was this middle aged woman from Wisconsin. A few minutes into her set, she started making fun of young women who think they are on top of the world. I guess I must have been the first person to catch her eye, so she asked me my name. I told her Meg, and she said "Oh, of course it is something cute like Meg and not Bertha"... I didn't correct her and tell her my real name is Margaret. Anyway, she said "For those of you who can't see Meg, she's beautiful.. with her big perfect eyes and her perfect hair, I bet men buy her cocktails all the time." She started talking about how someday I won't be so beautiful anymore.. that I'll start to look like her. She then asked me if I shop at Victoria's Secret. My face turned bright red because I was sitting at the table with 3 of my brothers and my father. I nodded in the affirmative and she went on to some jokes about knowing their secret. At this point, I was thinking she was finished with me.. then she started talking about bikini waxes. She literally said "Girl's like Meg have perfect little V's, but me, I've got a W... I call it my George W. Bush." I thought lingerie talk was uncomfortable, but it was nowhere near as bad as vagina talk sitting at a table with 3 of my brothers, father, mother and sister-in-law. I tried to pretend like I didn't get the joke; it seemed like no one at my table found the joke particularly funny either. Nothing beats awkward vagina jokes with your family.

Snooze Button

Each morning when it comes time to fight the urge to hit the snooze button and lie in my very comfortable and warm bed for just a few more minutes, I find myself severely lacking in willpower. According to the internet (and obviously 100% of what you read on the internet is true), the inventor of the snooze button is Lew Wallace. I am convinced that Lew practiced exceptional self-control and did not himself use the snooze button, but instead was up making money while the rest of the world got another 9 minutes of sleep. Thanks for nothing, Lew.

Pre-Existing Condition

I hate the people who answer the phone for my insurance company. Apparently for my ghetto insurance there are only two women who are the "front line," Anna and Betty. Anna is stupid, and I mean really stupid. I don't think she answered a single question I asked - I don't think she even knows how to spell tonsils let alone explain to me why the fact that my tonsils have been infected before is a "pre-existing condition" under my policy. Betty seems a little smarter, but she is approximately 100 years old and had probably been tonsil free for 92 years... maybe she had some serious complications when she got her tonsils out back when the local phyiscian/medicine man used sharpened rocks and prayers to remove them. Between the two of them, I am scared to do anything a little risky less I get hurt and my fate lies in thier hands. I guess I should be thankful that my tonsils are my only health problem these days...

About Me

A year or so ago I sent my overseas cousin 101 things about myself to try and make her laugh. Most of them are still true, and most of them I would never post on the internet. But here's a selection of the more... suitable... ones.

10. I own a lot of jeans. A lot. I think I have an addiction to buying them. When I was in Africa, I was so mad at myself for having a jean addiction... such a waste of money. But when I got back, I still bought a lot of jeans... go figure.
11. I am the middle child, but like my cousin Molly, it would be more accurate to call me the “central child”… being the only girl definitely has some benefits.
14. I like comfy beds. I am an expert at making beds extra comfy… but only for myself. When I have to share they become less comfy because of the groove I make for my body… ask Nora, she’ll tell you all about how we both kept falling into the crater in my bed so that we practically had to spoon, even though my bed is huge. (I have moved on to SpaceFoam, which has eliminated the above problem).
16. My dog Riley is really cute but also pretty annoying. She almost died once when she was a little puppy, so I think now she feels like she has to make the most of life and she runs and plays all the time that she is not sleeping.
17. I am Catholic. I don’t really agree with a lot of what the Church says, but something about the rituals and the ancientness of mass is comforting to me, so for now I think it is the right religion for me.
19. My family used to have another dog; her name was Bandit. She was the best dog in the world, just ask my Dad. My brother wanted to get her stuffed; she was cremated instead. My brothers insisted that I name my dog either Bandit 2, or Re-run... I didn't, and as a punishment to me they called her Retard instead of Riley for almost a year.
24. I am pretty clumsy. I have the scars to prove it. Except the one scar on my cheek, that one is compliments of one of my brothers punching me in the face during a game of Marco Polo on the 4th of July when I was 12.
25. My parents were going to name me either Natalie or Adrienne. My Dad wouldn’t let me be Adrienne because of Rocky and my Mom didn’t want people calling me Nat because she didn’t want her daughter to sound like a bug. So they picked Margaret. Good story, huh?
35. There is a children’s book called Do Princesses Really Wear Hiking Boots? The answer is yes, I do.
41. I have really weird dreams. A lot. Some of my friends think I am crazy. My mom thinks that Stephen King probably has really weird dreams too. Mine are insane like Stephen King’s novels.
42. I have never actually read a Stephen King novel. I’ve just seen the movies. Usually I read books and don’t watch movies, but I don’t like Stephen King anyway.
43. I do like Harry Potter. I love Harry Potter. The books, not the movies. I read them when I was lonely in Africa, which was a lot.
48. When I was 13 and in Ireland I swam with a dolphin named Fungi or something like that. I had a panic attack in the water though - it was cold.
54. I was a bit of a tomboy growing up. I guess another consequence of having 4 brothers… I even carved my initials in the tree in the back yard, such a boy thing to do.
57. I like falling in love on the train. Well not really falling in love, but I like finding a cute guy on the train and do the whole eye contact thing. It’s fun mostly because you’ll never see each other again.
62. I broke a bunch of bones in my hand and wrist when I was in high school, now I have tendonitis and arthritis, which sucks. But my doctor is the best; he was on Oprah. I call him Dr. Nose Hair and I can’t actually remember his real name right now.
63. Mean nicknames are my weakness. I try not to be mean, but sometimes the nicknames are just so funny. There were a lot at Loyola… Barbie on Crack, Jon Benet, Running Chinese Boy…
70. My confirmation name was (is?) Anne. I choose it because of Anne of Green Gables, so much for the saints.
75. I like that book Where the Sidewalk Ends. That guy is really smart. Seriously.
81. I hate mayonnaise. The grossest thing on Earth. I don’t know if I have ever even tasted it, but the smell gives it away.
83. I have never smoked a cigarette in my whole life. I have a weakness for addictions, and really don’t need that one.
85. I used to joke that I wanted to be a philanthropist when I grew up. Marry rich and travel to remote places giving away someone else’s money all while wearing a Chanel suit.
88. My favorite flavor of ice cream is mint chocolate chip. The green kind.
93. If I only had a month to live the first thing that I would do is get married. Weddings are so much fun, especially ones with an open bar.
94. There are a lot of things I want to do before I die. I even have a list. But there are way more things than I could ever fit on a list.
95. I don’t like secrets. But I kinda have a bunch of them. I guess everybody does, even though there isn’t much to like about secrets.
96. I am pretty good at badminton. When I broke my arm, I learned to play left-handed, and was really good. I play with my right now, and am still good. It is a stupid game though, I wish I were good a better sport.
99. I miss our old beach house. It was slanted, but that was part of the fun. I miss having a beach house all together. I don’t miss having to sleep in the bed near the bathroom, but I would sleep there again if it meant we could get our beach house back.

Sitcom

One of my good friends recently told me that my life is significantly more like a sitcom than a "real life." The more I thought about it, the more I think she might be right. Crazy stuff happens in my life. Weird coincidences abound - the unusual has become usual. Just in the past week or so I can think of a bunch of examples. I went to a doctor's appointment in North Philly and while walking back to the subway station I randomly run into the "Meathead". I didn't have my glasses on, so I was definitely staring at him awkwardly long. I got hit on by an almost 40 year-old man with multiple children (remind me to add ex-wives and children to the dealbreaker list). On the bus, I sat behind a craaazy couple, the woman kept saying to the man "what are you going to do about it, hit me?" When they got up, she tapped me on the shoulder and said "He's too much of a pussy to hit me anyway." I just stared at her. I lost my shoe in the subway station, but some lady found it and gave it back to me. A guy I used to find attractive was wearing a leather driving (Mr. Huxtable-style) hat at the bar on Friday night. Then one of my friends decided to make fun of said hat. I laughed excessively, only before realizing the hat and it's wearer were standing right next to us and heard everything. (I am fully aware my soul is hell bound).

Then Saturday night a cute guy was talking to me at the bar, and the only person in the whole world that we both know just so happens to be the guy I was most recently hooking up with. Later that night, I went to an after-hours place with some friends but decided to leave before them. After weathering multiple crude comments being yelled from passersby, I finally got a cab which a random stranger decided to share with me. The stranger proceeded to ask me 2.3 million questions, then told me his entire life story including his recent decision to start seeing a psychiatrist, paid the entire cab fare and gave me his business card (which I promptly discarded in the first trashcan I passed.) I woke up this morning to a text message from one of my brothers, who presumably had not yet gone to bed from the night before, that said only "Morning Large Marge" and spent a few minutes wondering how I have any confidence at all having grown up with 4 brothers, then was exhausted from thinking and went back to sleep.

Interestingly, this past week has been one of the more normal weeks I've had recently... I guess I have become used to my life being sitcom-esque.

My Weekend

Reasons my weekend could have sucked:
1. I lost one of my favorite earrings at the bar.
2. My brother's ex-girlfriend told me that I would never do any better than my ex-boyfriend and that my brother would never do any better than her.
3. A few of my friends got arrested.
4. I went to a party filled with ugly guys.
5. I took the train to New York hungover and on two hour's sleep.
6. I finally got back to my apartment late Sunday with hours of work ahead of me.

Reasons my weekend really didn't suck at all:
1. I didn't cry about it this time.
2. My brother's ex-girlfriend, however, shed a tear or two when I ignored her and told everyone else to keep her away from me.
3. My friends were really wild and fun pre-arrest.
4. The ugly guys were funny as hell (except I am still not sure about the one who told me that if I were 6 inches shorter he would have been laying down some serious game... compliment or not? I'm not sure...)
5. I took the train to New York with my Mom to see the Annie Leibovitz exhibit and it was amazing and I loved every second of it.
6. Instead of doing all of my work, I opted to sleep through my Monday morning classes.

Mystery Michael

My undergraduate college was pretty small and almost everyone's email address was their first initial followed by their last name @loyola.edu. People with common last names like mine would have a number after their last name. I, however, had no number - just the normal email address like everyone else. But poor Michael, we share a last name and he had the unfortunate luck of getting the email address with the number (although he's two years old than me, go figure). So of course, I have been getting emails for the past five years wrongly sent to me instead of Michael. Usually about once a month I get one and without fail every time I forward him the email, and he replies "Thanks again Margaret".

You really start to learn a lot about someone after 5 years of getting their emails. I know he played rugby, I know who his roommates were, I know he was a finance major, I know who his academic advisor was and the times of a couple of their appointments, I know his English Lit professor misplaced one of his papers, I know what bars his friends go to for happy hour, and I know that his ex-girlfriend got married this past summer. Last spring his friends planned a booze cruise, sent a bunch of emails out, and then one of them realized they accidentally invited "Margaret" instead of "Michael" before I had gotten a chance to check my email and forward them on to Michael who usually would then email everyone with the correct email address. Anyway, his friends were being funny, and this time they decided to take it upon themselves to invite me on the booze cruise also. Unfortunately, they all still live in Baltimore, so I couldn't make it (Not that I would have gone anyway). The following Monday I got an email from most of the guys on the list saying something along the lines of "Margaret, where were you?" or "We missed you on the cruise, Margaret." I responded to the whole list thanking them for their cordial invite and informing them of Michael's actual email address, and signed the email "Margaret". I have a bunch of friends that are their year of school, but I can almost guarantee that not a single one of them knows that my real name is Margaret. I wonder if I'll ever get to meet Michael - I do know that he goes by Mike, but if I have to be Margaret, he has to be Michael.

Here's to 2007

I don't think I have ever made New Year's Resolutions before, but if I were to start here's the ones I'd make for 2007:

1. No more late night binge eating (or catch that 'anorexia' thing that's going around).
2. Stop making up mean nicknames for people.
3. No more watching Extreme Makeover with my roommate to make ourselves feel better when we're a little depressed.
4. Actually start showing up to my job.
5. Think of a password other than "password".
6. Stop spending more money than I have in my bank account. (Sorry Mom!)
7. Find a support group for others like me who are addicted to buying jeans and Pumas.
8. Stop skipping so many AA meetings (kidding...)
9. Take myself less serisously - if that is at all possible.
10. Learn what "resolution" means.