To become a better person, but not so good that anyone benefits or notices or thinks it’s the start of a trend.
To listen to my inner voice, especially when it says “Beer?” and “Hi, handsome.”
To become part of something bigger than myself, like an angry mob.
To accept that I have a drinking problem, but God has a plan for me, so hooray! I have a drinking blessing.
To embrace my inner child, but not in a creepy way.
To stop being a schmuck and start being a schlemiel.
To stop working the word “dingleberry” into everything. Heh, dingleberry.
To stop saying “I have one caveat!” until I learn what a caveat is.
To use my millions to fund a private trip to the moon.
To make millions.
To make thousands.
To put my resolution list in a more logical order.
To stop putting lipstick on pigs, literally.
To touch as many lives as I can, within the parameters of my parole.
To vibrate with happiness, joy, and vibrators.
To visualize what I want from life, using binoculars.
To bring at least three paddles on my next Shit Creek vacation.
To pick a doomsday that fits my lifestyle.
To send a gift basket to Quetzalcoatl, in case his doomsday is the real one.
To learn more about other people, like if any of them are my children.
To teach my dog not to bite the wrong toddlers.
To find out if silk pajamas count as business casual.
To stop thinking about myself for five seconds.
To buy a stopwatch so I can be sure when five seconds are up.
To proofread and spellcheck my prophesies.
To stop telling geeks and nerds, “You guys are really dweebs.”
To stop telling baristas my milk preference is breast.
To stop referring to my children as crotchfruit.
To stop referring to my dogs as my children.
To stop referring to kids on the playground as my dogs.
To stop eating my emotions until I find a recipe for bacon-wrapped regret.
To stop trying to stop things, because I sound so negative!
To yodel my way to the top.
To convince the world, or at least the world’s convenience-store owners, that a towel is pants.
To learn to love myself, no matter how many masturbating lessons it takes.
To admit that my Kryptonite is Kryptonite, because I am Superman.