A Report Card Of My 2015 New Year’s Resolutions

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A Report Card Of My 2015 New Year's Resolutions

Last year about this time when I was still contributing to deFries’ now epic Sunday Scaries site, I made a list of New Year’s Resolutions for 2015. Now that 2016 is about to face fuck all of us with gym membership advertisements and shitty entry-level Capitol One credit card offers, I thought it was the perfect time to revisit how I did on my 2015 goals. Needless to say, I’m more disappointed than a Tiger Mom when her child gets a B+ on a Geometry test. Let’s dig in.

Drink More Vodka

Might as well start with an easy win, right? Checking the scorecard, I did pretty okay on this goal. This summer was the Moscow Mule City for everyone, I think. Every niche hipster bar you know got copper mugs and put their own bullshit twist on the Mule.

Side note: Yeti Ramblers are better for Moscow Mules than copper mugs, so you might want to go snag one on Man Outfitters when they’re back in stock.

I put the bourbon down for 4-5 months and drank more Stoli than Putin has in his lifetime. Did it lead to winning life outcomes? No, but that wasn’t the goal here. I’ll give myself a B+ here despite the fact that I’m four fingers deep in the Wild Turkey as I write this.

Explore New Bars

As I explained at this time last year, I was in a three-bar circuit and it was getting old. Same faces, ran into the same girls I ran the same shitty game at the same watering holes. Recently, I discovered an establishment that has a pet octopus in the middle of the bar and it’s AWESOME. I think I have a large enough base of bars now that I don’t have to get nervous about running into old flames on first dates now. That said, I still don’t pay cover on live music nights at Tin Roof because I’m still enough of a regular on the weekends. Overall, I’ll give myself a C because C’s and D’s get degrees in adult life, right?

Lock It Up

Oh man, the toughest goal of them all: get a real life, honest to God girlfriend. I stated at the time that this was the longshot and I couldn’t have been more right. I started the year off strong with a first date with a girl that told me 20 minutes in about her teenage sexual exploits. Undeterred, the next girl turned out to be allergic to alcohol on a date where I had already ordered a mimosa pitcher at brunch. Shocker: that one didn’t work either. Later in the year, I had another girl basically confess she’s the road beef of a starting NL pitcher on a major division rival. I pick winners, y’all. Now I get to go into my third straight solo Christmas and have all my very un-PC uncles make accusations about my sexuality. Is there a grade worse than F? Because if so, I earned it.

Smoke More Cigarettes

Look, cigarettes are fucking cool and if you don’t think so, you’re a square. I wanted to smoke more grits to cut back on my dipping problem and save my gum line, but I’m not sure that happened. I did smoke a few more Marb Lights, but it was in bunches rather than spread out. My birthday weekend in Chicago? Smoked around three full packs and couldn’t breathe for a month. I do try to enjoy cigarettes when I can and do maintain an emergency pack in my home office desk drawer, but I think I could’ve gotten another carton in. C-minus here.

Leave The Country

I’ve been really big on going to Belize to fish bonefish and permit on the fly for a while and once again, I’m pushing into spring of 2017. My mother offered to take my sister and I to the Caribbean this winter and I declined, some of it because of my work schedule and some of it because I honestly don’t know where my passport is at. Instead, I spent my travel budget on flying up north to shoot grouse and that one wild weekend in Chicago to see Zac Brown play Wrigley. Oh, well. But, didn’t get the passport I can’t find stamped, so that’s an F.

Overall, I’m going to take the L on my 2015 resolutions and really focus hard on my 2016 ones, I’m sure they can’t be much worse.

Image via Sunday Scaries

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