I Don't Need No Stinking Resolutions

What's with all these New Years resolutions and why does everyone seem to think I'm even vaguely interested? I'm not naming any names, but this never came up when I was single.

"I just want you around for a long, long time," The Wife exclaimed in that caring, loving, internationally-accepted subterfuge for nagging.

"Oh I'm not buying that argument dear," I could have sworn I responded, though she claims it came out more like, "Bull#@&*."

She wants me around for a long, long time? She doesn't even want me around for the rest of the day, which is demonstrated by her turning on that damn vacuum cleaner. Yep, nothing clears a home of man or beast quicker than starting up a vacuum cleaner. She says she read somewhere that running the vacuum burns something like, ten trillion calories an hour. I believe she was suggesting I should give it a spin, and perhaps even insinuating I need to lose weight. Well, running away from the vacuum burns a few too, just ask me or the cat.

"You need more grain and fiber in your diet," she adds on my return.

"Oh yeah, and what do you think beer is made out of? That's right, grain and fiber," I snap back, not only shutting that argument down, but also inadvertently letting her know just where I ran away.

She says I should get outside more too. She thinks I need to get more air, which in her world I believe means yard work.

Well, I get plenty of air. The Colorado Legislature took care of that. I have to go outside to smoke when I'm at the bar getting more, "grain and fiber."

She's even got the doctor turning on me. "If you would get more exercise, you wouldn't need the pain pills you're always requesting," he informed me on my last, and I do mean last visit to that quack.

Besides, I'm thinking it's a little late for me to be making any big changes. There's no extreme makeover in my plans. It's not that I don't help with the household chores, I do, big time. I'm not near the slob I used to be and believe me, that takes a lot of work. I actually lift the toilet seat first, though I've noticed she never puts the seat back up when she's done, and unlike the cat, it's been a long time since I peed on the rug. Get this, I actually place my dirty socks and underwear in a clothes basket now, and have even made up the bed twice this year. She's not going to win this argument so we're back on my health.

"I talked to our doctor today," she casually begins in a married woman's, 'oh by the way' manner of starting an argument, "and he says you should listen to your wife and make some New Year's resolutions to get more exercise, go on a diet, and quit smoking."

So I see the good doctor has not only lost a patient, but his testicles as well. Listen to my wife? Go on a diet? Get more exercise and quit smoking? I've been paying him to fix these problems, not do away with them.

I decided to stand my ground. A little nagging is not going to make me suddenly start making New Year's Resolutions. Rhett Butler never gave in to Scarlett O'Hara: he didn't give a damn. Superman never made, "lifestyle" changes for Lois Lane, and James Bond never gave in to, well, anyone. So as the head and master of this household I make my own decisions, period.

So, the diet is going good, I still get to eat like a horse. That's because my meals basically consist of hay, oats and grass. I smoke when and wherever I want, as long it's out back behind the trees where a certain someone can't see me, and I'm down to just one six-pack a week of unfortunately, carrot juice. As far as the exercise goes, did you know you can burn something like ten trillion calories an hour just from vacuuming?