This year, I resolve to ...
Stop taking first dates to Pax, visibly sighing when they order the specialty soup, then coming home and watching old episodes of Charles in Charge, hoping that Nicole Eggert or Josie Davis will be wearing something that shows her navel.
Stop choosing the "Bill Me Later" option when buying tickets on Continental.com, then hiding in my bedroom when angry pilots come knock on my door, demanding that I pay up, because "Larry don't like deadbeats."
Just write a check for $100 to my high school's general fund and be done with it this time, rather than insisting on a breakdown based on departments and teachers I liked and disliked, even if the Classics department said it was no big deal that they were stuck with Domino while Modern Languages got Sugar in the Raw.
Take the steps, unless the floor I'm going to is really high. In which case, I can take the elevator, but I have to walk in place the whole time.
Start every day with 25 pushups, 25 situps and and an apple. Pears would also do.
Not start smoking, like I have for each of the past 30-some years.
Finally submit that draft proposal of a new MTA Subway map, renaming each line for a prominent figure in New York City and State history, to Albany. The 4-5-6 will be the George, James and DeWitt Clinton lines; the 1-2-3 can be the Mario, Andrew and Chris Cuomo lines. Moynihan gets the A train. Mets fans will come to know and love that the Gouverneur Morris is the only way to get to Citifield.
Finally read all the books on my shelves I haven't yet. Including: The Oresteia, The Sun Also Rises, 1991 Cleveland Indians media guide.
Stop hiding alarm clocks set to 5:37 a.m. in various corners of CrimeNotes' apartment every time I visit.
Masturbate less furtively. Even if my girlfriend is trying to sleep next to me. It's a doberman, let it have its ears.
Finally start using that Nordic Track.