New Year's Good Intentions (apologies to Bing)

I haven't made a New Year's resolution in at least a decade and a half, and I'm not about to start now. But I think I can probably offer up a couple of intentions for the year...

* I intend to brown-bag it more often. I realized I was spending $10 a day on lunches - I mean, really, that's insane, when you think about it. Last week I made a giant pot of chili, bought a bunch of Progresso soups, and cans of tunafish. Oh, and I brought a big box of Special K into the office for breakfast. The only money that left my wallet during the week? $10 to buy a pack of cigarettes on Wednesday.

* I will not resolve to quit smoking. I LIKE smoking.

* I intend to turn my monthly $30 donation to Health Club Systems into actual workouts. When I think about it, the gym is three blocks from my apartment, and I know I've got a spare hour and half a few times a week to at least walk on a treadmill and throw around a few dumbbells.

* I intend to walk more, period. It's far too easy to duck down into the subway after work when it's just a block away from the office. I could walk to Grand Central to get the 6 train and that's a 20-minute, mind-clearing, 1-mile walk!

* I intend to write more letters. Not emails, not text messages. Actual letters, with pens and envelopes and stamps. Remember stamps?

* I intend to stay more in touch with my brothers, even though they make me crazy. Interestingly, I don't have this issue with my sisters. (Well, maybe the semi-crazy one)

That's all I can think of at the moment...has anyone else made any rezzies for the New Year?

Dear NY Times, Please Explain

I'm baffled. Mystified. And deeply, deeply disturbed.

Everyone knows that publicists are as full of crap as a row of Port-o-sans at the end of a chili festival, and apparently Sloane Crosley nimbly made the leap from publicist to published author by being "The Most Popular (read: most full of crap) Publicist in New York City," but seriously, New York Times, I thought you had some standards.

Please tell me that you don't actually 1099 her for crap like this.

Happy New Year, meet the new boss, same as the old boss

I've been laid up with something fluish for the past three days, which has afforded me ample time to consume lots of Top Ramen, slog from my bed to my big chair and back dragging my Linus blanket, wade past wadded up and soggy Kleenexes, read Maeve Binchy, and watch endless replays of "VH1's 100 Greatest Hard Rock Songs," which is perfect for a contagious, loogie-hacking invalid with a fevered, short attention span for many, many reasons.

First, Bret Michaels needs to give thanks to VH1, every minute of every day. Not only are they getting him laid on a regular basis (I know, eew), but he is apparently now on their payroll. Do you think he's doing it for the Viacom health benefits? Or because they are buying his wigs?

Second, i realize that the current generation won't have retrospectives like this because no one's making filthy rock and roll any more. (I'm still wondering how f**king CREED made the list -- huh?) I mean, honestly, the biggest rock albums of 2008 were by, ahem, AC/DC, Motley Crue, and Guns n' Roses? Hello? I'm finally to the final hour, and it's fairly certain that the top 5 will include something Zeppelin-ey, Ozz-ey and Van Halen-ey.

Third, it's really fun to see some of the people VH1 exhumes to comment on the various songs. An unrecognizable Billy Squier, looking disturbingly like Kevin Cronin; Sebastian Bach looking like they just pried his lips off the bicycle pump he was using to self-inflate; Nikki Sixx looking, well, hot; Lita Ford, who apparently made some sort of deal with the devil she looks so good; and, inexplicably, Kip Winger. I know, who?

And the number 1 Hard Rock song? "Welcome to the Jungle."

Rock on, bitches.

Baby Haters of the World, UNITE!

How have I gone so long without finding this blog?

Frankly, He Oughta Get a Medal

How many times have you sat, seething, in a movie theater while someone nearby is yammering away to their companion?

This guy is my hero of the week.