New Year’s Resolutions

It’s 2013 now and everyone keeps asking me if I’ve made a New Year’s Resolution. My default answer is ‘no’ because of severe childhood trauma. Let’s just say it involved a bag of large marshmallows, a bayonet, a BBQ grill, an old Halloween mask, a truly staggering supply of lighter fluid, and eventually, the loss of a lot of body hair.

When I went back to school, I told everyone a baboon stole my hair. It more or less worked, as first graders are pretty gullible. Plus, I’m not really sure anyone knew what a ‘baboon’ was. I didn’t. I thought it was some sort of bird, which made perfect sense.

This led to my first New Year’s Resolution, supplied by my mother, which was ‘don’t be an idiot.’ It had to be amended a few days later to ‘don’t be a total idiot’ because, honestly, that was about the best she could hope for.

So from then on, I decided that I would not do New Year’s Resolutions anymore. There are always a few people who can’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so I use ‘not serving time in a Russian Gulag’ as a backup. Which, surprisingly, I’ve managed to keep (more or less).

However, this year, I’ve decided to make a concerted effort to create and keep a New Year’s Resolution.

So here it is: I, Jason Janicki, do resolve to not hate ninjas. As much.

This is obviously a tough one for me, but the other night when I was chasing a ninja down the street at three in the morning wearing a pair of sweat pants, bunny slippers, and carrying a gun that shoots pitchforks (the Pitchforkerator), I started to question the wisdom of it all.

I mean, they’re just guys like me. They’re just doing a job like I do. They may not want to spend hours in the freezing Oregon night waiting for just the right moment to stab me in the ass with a ninjato, just like I really don’t want to spend half my nights fighting them on rooftops in my underwear.

NOTE: They love rooftops. I have no idea why. It’s cold, slippery, and birds poop on them.

Therefore, I decided not to hate them quite so much. In practical terms, this doesn’t mean a whole lot. I mean, I’ll still happily shoot, punch, kick, stab, and bludgeon them, I just will try to refrain from cackling the whole time.

Who knows, maybe next year I’ll resolve to not fire farming implements at them.

Cheers,

-Jason