Phil's New Year's Resolution No. 3

Sorry about the delay in getting this posted everyone. The reason for that will be my post today. I, Phil, resolve to write more blog posts in 2006. That is, if I can. I didn't have anything to post today. I just ran out of ideas. I've racked my brain for the last 3 days. I have no idea if my lack of ideas is permanent. It may be. Maybe I used them all up. I hope not. This could be it for The Phil Factor. You may be reading the last post ever. My brain might be empty. Well, actually, I'm sure many of you wondered if my brain had anything in it to start with. Who knows, maybe at the stroke of midnight my brain turns back into a pumpkin. If I'm lucky Dorothy will come along, take me off my post in the cornfield and we'll go see that great wizard everyone is talking about. I hope I see you all on the other side of midnight. Happy New Year.

Phil's New Year's Resolution No. 2

I, Phil, resolve no to watch any "Year in Review," "The Best of 2005," or "The Top (fill in the blank) of 2005" shows. I also resolve not to read any "Best and Worst of 2005" type news, sports, or entertainment articles in magazines, newspapers, or on websites. I know damn well what happened during the past 12 months! We all do. Unless you're a coma victim, no one needs these shows or articles. Furthermore, I don't need a television show or magazine article telling me what was important in the last 52 weeks. I think I'll decide what I think was important to me during the last 365 days. And I am not voting in any sort of online poll regarding the events or movies of 2005. And for the sake of all that is holy, NO MORE NICK AND JESSICA UPDATES!!!!! Judging by the conversations of the women in my office you'd think that the Nick and Jessica break-up was the biggest disaster of 2005. If you mention Katrina to them they're likely to give you a blank stare and ask if Katrina was the one who dated Ben Affleck right after J.Lo but before Jennifer Garner.

Phil's New Year's Resolution No. 1

In the age old tradition of Phil's 12 Days of Christmas, I will now try to come up with New Year's Resolutions about how I specifically plan to cope with the next 12 months of my life.

Phil's New Year's Resolution No. 1: During the Year 2006 I, Phil, resolve not to die. This is priority number 1 for me in the coming year. If I manage that successfully then the rest is gravy. Many of my long time readers, ok, well the few of you that are long time readers, remember my previous post related to this subject. Death is one of my biggest pet peeves. I absolutely hate it. I'm not a big fan of it happening to people I know, and I especially hate the thought of it happening to me. As I've previously stated, if presented with the opportunity to be dead I will just refuse to do so. Just as Santa Claus ceases to exist for a child when they stop believing in him, death will cease to exist for me because I refuse to believe it can happen to me. As an example of my gratitude to all of you for being so supportive over the time my blog has existed, I hope you all live through the next year too. Beside, if you die, who will leave me comments?

On the 12th Day of Christmas...

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring except for Phil's Blog Party. If I had my Christmas wish come true I'd rent out the ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Manhattan, New York City for a party and I'd invite everyone who has ever read my blog. I'll be hiring three bands to play live at the party: The B-52's (what could be a better party song than "Love Shack" live?), The Mighty, Mighty Bosstones, and the Bare Naked Ladies. Three great party bands. We would also be free to karaoke all night, as the lead singer of each band would step aside for us. Also invited to the party would be representatives of several book publishers who would be available to sign all of us aspiring writers to contracts. On a large plasma screen above the dance floor images of our blogs would flash throughout the night. There would be no computer access in the party though so we could all meet each other without a keyboard and screen between us.

In addition to the bands I would also invite The Golden Boys. If you don't know The Golden Boys then go check my archives from June 29th to July 11th. (I don't know how to do that thing where I can create a link here yet). The Golden Boys are a show in and of themselves.

I would stock the bar with plenty of Foster's for all my Australian blogging friends. I would charter a bus to Toronto to pick up all the Canadians. I imagine they'd all be pretty intoxicated on the bus long before they arrived. Linny and Princess Pessimism would arrive together because they have agreed to be each others dates. I doubt that they'd leave without dates however. Lois would arrive in a truck with her hubby and all the little Lanes in tow. She'd be carrying her laptop around at the party trying to get a good wireless internet signal to come in. Don't worry parents, there will be a kiddie room away from our party. Berly would have left the little one with hubby to come party with all her friends. Natalia would cruise up to the door in her PT Cruiser, jauntily flipping the keys to the valet. Chloe would fly in from Athens and arrive with enough Uzo for everyone. My friend from Michigan would brave the time zone barrier to make it. Michelle and Chloe would be the official party photographers, snapping pics and immediately posting them to their blogs through Lois' laptop. Justine would have to resist political conversations. This is a night for fun only. Well-Woman arrives early, but leaves early to spend a quiet night at home sipping tea. Some of the newer bloggers such as Meow,Geewits, and Heidi are wandering the ballroom gaping in awe at the blogging royalty, even asking for the occasional autograph. For snacks our friend Debbiecakes will be bringing popcorn. Don't worry ladies, I'd have security at the entrances to ensure that Hernesto doesn't get into the party. He's got to be registered as a sexual offender somewhere. Security would also be frisking each and every one of you (don't get too excited) to ensure that no one brings a cell phone in.

One of the best features of the party is that I've had the bathroom stalls at the Ritz-Carlton modified so that each is the size of a master bedroom. Tidy Bowl in particular appreciates this feature. There will of course be more entertainment than just the bands however. I'll reprise my past life by doing a 20 minute set of stand-up comedy using material that has yet to appear on the blog. Then of course The Golden Boys will take over, and to the surprise of no one, recreate the dance routine from the movie The Full Monty.

Lastly at midnight I'd make a corny, sentimental speech and thank all the people that made this possible, such as Erin, my friend from work who suggested I do a blog with all my ridiculous thoughts. She has never once signed up for a blogger ID and as such has never left a single comment on my blog despite the fact that she has read every single post since the beginning. Michelle gets a special thank you as well for being the second commenter ever, but the only one that has been there ever since. I would give Lois a trophy shaped like a laptop and engraved "Blog Diva" because she truly is. In a sad reflection on our community I now take a moment to point out that through my 12 Days of Christmas, my Christmas wish that received the most commentary was my idea of bigger bathroom stalls. At this point I'd like to apologize to anyone who's name I've left out. I know this is getting a bit long to read, but rest assured, even if I haven't mentioned you, I truly appreciate the time you've taken to read and comment on my blog. At the end of the party, so no one has to drive drunk, you can all retire to the Ritz-Carlton suites I've reserved for all party guests. Somehow I doubt everyone would be returning to their suites alone. Or at least some of you are hoping I'm sure. Happy Holidays everyone!

On the 11th Day of Christmas...

My sincere Christmas wish is that I'd like everyone to stop saying "See you next year!" during the last 14 days of each calendar year. Think about it. How often does some co-worker, friend, or family member gleefully shout out "See you next year!" and then laugh as if they've made the funniest joke they've ever heard? Hmmmm...let's see, by the time I was about 7 years old I had already heard that comedic gem roughly 2000 times. This is another thing I would make a law against when I'm elected President or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first. Don't start calling me Scrooge over this either. I showed how sensitive I was with that penguin story yesterday didn't I? (By the way, how many of you visualized a little penguin-shaped chalk outline on a sidewalk behind yellow police tape?) I think that from now on, whenever some Seinfeld wanna-be departs my company by gleefully shouting, "See you next year!" I'm going to just as gleefully respond, "Shut the hell up!" with a big smile on my face.

On the 10th Day of Christmas...

I wish that someone would return Toga, the 3 month old penguin they stole from the zoo in Isle of Wight, England. Toga is a 3 month old Jackass penguin who zookeepers believe was stolen to be a unique gift for someone. To me it sounds like the penguin isn't the only jackass in this scenario. Yes, "Jackass" is really the type of penguin he is. The poor little tuxedo-wearing tot was still being fed by his parents in that charming, regurgitating manner that birds have of feeding their young. Somehow I doubt the jackass thief is pre-chewing Toga's food for him. Is this not the saddest holiday story you've ever heard? I mean really, there aren't many things cuter than a baby penguin.

On the 9th Day of Christmas...

I would like an end to horseback riding. This is a bit of a personal gripe and doesn't necessarily benefit mankind like my other wishes, but it does benefit horses. I am of the opinion that horses don't like being ridden. I'm not any kind of Dr. Doolittle or animal psychic, I just can't see any possible way that horses are enjoying this.

Horse No. 1: "Damn, I'm bored. I wish someone would come along, sit on my back, jerk my mouth back and forth with a rope, jerk being the operative word, and then kick me right in the kidneys a few times if I don't have enough giddyap to suit them."

Horse No. 2: "I'm down with that homey, but what I really want is to be a racehorse. Then you get to do all that and get your ass whipped repeatedly. Oh yeah, and then if I happen to break an ankle, the man takes me into the hizzle and busts a cap in my head. Ain't that the life?"

Horse No. 1: I can't believe we get to do all that for a bucket of oats a day. Suckers! By the way Ed, why are you talkin' like that? You're from West Virginia."

Horse No. 2: "It's just something I'm trying out. The stable boy had MTV on in the office the other day so loud that I could hear it in here. You think we'll ever be on "Pimp My Ride"? I would look sweet in a purple velour saddle with surround sound speakers."

On The 8th Day of Christmas...

I would like all public bathroom stalls to be as big as a handicapped stall, if not bigger. I don't care how long you need to be in a bathroom stall, no one wants to be stuck in a tiny, smelly little closet where you are afraid to even unbend a limb lest you end up touching a wall or worse. There are enough people who are so fearful of using a public bathroom that they cause themselves uromysitisis. I believe that if public restrooms were more spacious people would be likely to use them more. All you ladies who seem to need to go to the bathroom together whenever you're out could all just hang out in the stall chatting while you do your business. If public restroom stalls were bigger I could take 3 of my friends to the Men's room to snort a little nose candy and we could all fit into one stall to do so without getting all homophobic about the close quarters. Why do they call them restrooms if no one actually ever rests in them? Not once have I seen a living person taking a nap in a restroom. This is another of the things I'll change when I'm elected President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first.

On the 7th of Christmas...

I would like an end to all that sensitive, nice Phil-crap that I put in my blog yesterday. That's what happens when I run out of ideas. Actually, in all truth, on the 7th day of Christmas I would like to no longer have a biological need for sleep. Yes, I realize that some of you identify sleep as a hobby or possibly a second job, but I'm just not very good at it, so I'd like to give up having to try at it every night. I enjoy a good dream as much as the next person, and I in fact have the ability to willfully choose to fly in my dreams, but it seems a tremendous waste of time to spend a third of our life unconscious. I don't wish this for everyone because I realize that many of you enjoy your sleep. There are other good uses for our beds that have nothing to do with sleeping. I'm still a big fan of those. I just want more time to do stuff. In fact, if we didn't sleep we'd also have more time for the other bed activities too. Rumor has it that Leonardo DaVinci got by on just cat naps throughout the day without any real extended periods of sleep. I'm not saying I'd be Leonardo if I didn't sleep, but I might be another one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Imagine having more time in every day without getting tired. There are books to read and write, music to listen to, work that I'm behind on, people to talk to and blog items to write. How many of us have ever said, "There just aren't enough hours in the day"? There are enough hours. We're just wasting them asleep.

"We are such stuff
As dreams are made on and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep..."

-William Shakespeare

On The 6th Day Of Christmas...

I'm going to recap my quest for those of you who have joined us late. To count down the 12 Days of Christmas I am posting a different Christmas wish that I have for each day. Although I may sound like Scrooge, if you read through them all, my wishes benefit not only me, but all of man and womankind. Yes, I could wish for world peace and no more hunger, but I think that one's already pretty well covered. So, without further adieu....on the 6th day of Christmas I would like everyone who does their job incredibly well, but is underappreciated or underutilized, to be recognized for it. All the time we all see people becoming rich and famous for doing things well. Everyone reading this blog is probably exceptional at their chosen profession, but because it isn't entertaining or considered important you get overlooked. I like to imagine that if doing therapy with emotionally disturbed kids was a sport I'd be in the therapy Super Bowl every year. What does everyone out there do? (There! See? I did it. I'm not a Scrooge. I can be nice if I want to)

On the 5th Day of Christmas.... aka Everybody Hates Raymond

I want to own the rights to the CBS television show "Everybody Loves Raymond." Is it because I'm a huge "Raymond" fan? In a word, NO! I absolutely despise that show. I hate "Everybody Loves Raymond" with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. If given a choice between watching "Raymond" or having toothpicks forcibly shoved under my fingernails, I would choose the toothpicks. That show is the television equivalent of torture. Now that they are no longer making new episodes it seems to be on 24/7! There are enough episodes broadcast each day that if the networks combined them they could have a 24 hr "Raymond" channel. What's not to hate? Every plot is the same. Raymond does something stupid. Debra is unbelieveably bitchy to him. Robert is jealous of Raymond. Raymond tries to compensate for his first mistake, but only makes more mistakes to compound his misery. Debra is unbelieveably bitchy to him. Then he tries to get Debra to have sex with him. A perfect end to that series might have been an episode where Raymond finally snaps and kills Debra. And damn, if those two little twin boys didn't have the biggest foreheads! If I hate it so much much, why do I want to own the rights to it? The answer is simple. If I owned the rights to that show, another episode would never see the light of day. I would destroy every recorded copy of every episode of the entire series. I would offer money for people to give me their home recorded copies of "Raymond" episodes so that I could destroy them. If I were to successfully to do away with that show for good I believe I would be raising the I.Q. of every person on the planet by at least 3 points. That would be worth a Nobel prize. I don't ask for much. Is this an unreasonable Christmas wish?

On The 4th Day Of Christmas...

I'd like a time machine. I want to go back in time and tell my past self not to make certain bad decisions. Yeah, yeah, I know, life is a journey and I'm the person I am because I learned from my mistakes, blah, blah, blah. Screw the journey. I wanted a much less bumpy ride. They say hindsight is 20/20. Well in hindsight there's a lot of things I wish I'd done differently. I wish I'd taken the road not taken in a few instances. The philosophical would say that I'm a better person for having experienced the things I have. Without the mistakes I'm pretty damn sure I'd be a pretty damn good person anyway, but with a lot more fame and fortune. C'mon, honestly in your heart of hearts who wouldn't choose to go back and give their past selves even a little advice to avoid certain things? It worked out pretty good for Marty McFly didn't it?

On The Third Day of Christmas...

I'd like an end to all reality shows. Each and every one of them. There is an entire generation of television writers who haven't had to come up with a new idea in 10 years. Even the "new" ideas for reality shows aren't original. Most of the original reality show ideas were actually stolen from foreign television. "Reality" television isn't even remotely like any reality I have ever seen. Not once in my reality have I been stranded on a desert island or locked in a house with a bunch of strangers and forced to manipulate others or eat live bugs in order to win a pizza. I can only imagine how the writers brainstorming sessions go:
Writer no. 1: "Hmmmm...what could be more entertaining than putting a bunch of strangers in a contrived situation and watching them reveal their worst instincts as they fight for money?"
Writer no. 2: "Wow, that's a great idea. Let's pitch it to the network!"
Writer no. 1:" Yeah, but where will put the people, what will they have to eat, and who will fire them?"
Writer no. 2:"It doesn't matter. The network will put anything on the air as long as we have it hosted by a Carson Daly-type guy with rogue-ishly messy hair."
Writer no. 1:"Is rogue-ishly a word?"

If someone out there knows how to contact the head of a television network please fax this column to them as my application for the position of Director of Programming.

On the Second Day of Christmas....

I want someone to give to me.... a special law that limits the times of day the elderly can drive and go to stores. No, before you all attack me for being anti-elderly hear me out. Fact No. 1: The elderly drive slow and move slow. Fact No. 2: Fact no. 1 is very frustrating for the faster moving people. But, I also believe that the elderly are also frustrated by the difference between the speed they move and the speed others move. I'm sure they don't enjoy people honking at them on the roads, pushing by them in stores, beating them out for a spot in line at the cash register, huffing impatiently behind them as we are blocked while they attempt to navigate the ever narrowing store aisles with their walkers. Let's face it, we are all probably somewhat rude to the elderly in this way. I think that if there was a law that stated that the elderly cannot be on the roads during morning and evening rush hour and that they should limit their shopping to the hours of 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. on weekdays we would all be happier. The elderly would no longer have to put up with an ever impatient society trying to shove them aside and the rest of us would see a corresponding decrease in our blood pressure on a daily basis. The elderly could then browse the stores at their leisure in a pseudo-Dawn of the Dead zombie-like march down the aisles and on the roads. Don't get me wrong, I love the elderly. I hope to be very elderly one day, albeit with all my mental and physical faculties intact as they are today. I can only imagine that as an elderly gentleman someday that I will be likely to use my cane to hit in the shins any rude, young, punk who tries to rush past me to get in line ahead of me at the supermarket. (I know you're all going to kill me for this one)

Phil's 12 Days of Christmas

These are not gifts I've ever been given, but gifts I would like this year. Of course I could and do wish for things like peace on Earth and food for starving children, but those things aren't going to make this list. I'm starting more than 12 days early because I doubt I could commit to posting 12 days in a row, especially since I'm moving in about a week and may lose internet for a couple days.

On the first day of Christmas I would like.....

An end to daylight savings time. It was originally dreamed up to give farmers more time to take in their crops or something like that. That was over 100 years ago. Farmers now have electric lights and harvesting machines that can do their work in a 10th of the time it used to take. The bi-annual ritual of moving our clocks back or forward by an hour has just become annoying and serves no purpose. I'm sure that we can all remember to change our fire detector batteries every six months without having to arbitrarily screw around with the time frame of an entire country. If you're not smart enough to change your fire detector batteries and you get killed in a fire then that's natural selection at work. This is one of the things I will change when I am elected President or Sexiest Man Alive.

I Was Just Wondering....

If Switzerland is a neutral country with no army, then why are there Swiss Army Knives? If the U.S. Army gave out cool gadgets like that I'd be tempted to join. I think that the fact that their primary weapon has a corkscrew implies that you get to drink at least some of the time. Maybe there really is a Swiss Army, but they're all at a party somewhere opening bottles of wine.

Bicycle! Bicycle! I Want To Ride My Bicycle

Ok, I don't want to ride my bike, but a guy at the gym this past weekend sure as hell did. Going to the gym is great for people watching because contrary to popular belief, I think that people at the gym aren't phonies trying to impress others, but rather people trying to be who they really want to be. The 98 pound weaklings lift weights, imagining that they will one day be the desire of women and the envy of other men. The overweight people workout, and even if the mirror doesn't show it right away, they feel just a little bit thinner every time. The guys that are already hulking behemoths pose and lift in front of the mirror in the faint hope that someday they'll be as clever and witty as that handsome blog writer who just walked by. Despite all this I try to stay humble. Then of course there's the instructor of the cycling class. I still fail to see why anyone needs an "instructor" to tell them how to ride a bicycle that doesn't go anywhere and never falls over. I think it must be a class for the remedial cyclists. Once they've mastered the stationary bike do they go outside and try a real one with training wheels? The instructor appears to be one of those people who takes himself and his job way too seriously. You know these people. They're the ones who, although they may be doing an activity recreationally, are as well dressed and equipped as the professionals. They're the people who when watching a professional sporting event show up in the full uniform on the off chance that they'll be called out of the stands to participate in the game. This cycling "instructor" is one of those people. Despite the fact that the primary function of his job is to tell people, who are already sitting on bicycles, to pedal, he shows up as if he's about to compete in the Tour De' France. He's in the cycling shorts. He's got the cycling shoes specially made to prevent his feet from slipping off the pedals. And yes, he's wearing one of those skin tight cycling shirts covered with sponsor logos and designed to be light and reduce wind resistance. I've walked around my gym quite a few times and I've never had a problem with wind resistance. If Lance Armstrong wants to show up at the local gym and instruct a class wearing his yellow jersey I've got no problem with that. He earned it. If he rode 1000 miles to get that jersey he deserves to sleep in it every night if he wants to. But the local gym cycling psycho seems to be overdoing it a bit in his quest for cycling greatness. As I said though, I guess he's just trying to get a little closer to being the Lance Armstrong he is in his dreams. Sadly for him, it looks like that's a long ride. Especially if his bike isn't going anywhere.

Celebrate Good Times, C'mon!

I'm a sports fan. I enjoy playing sports and watching them. I wish I enjoyed my job as much as professional athletes do. These guys seem to celebrate virtually any move they make as if they've just vanquished a lethal foe or won the lottery. Well if it's good enough for professional athletes it's good enough for me. I think we should all approach our jobs with the verve and zest for life that professional athletes do. Starting tomorrow I'm going to dance and hoot and pose every time I perform any basic function of my job. I work in an office. This should go over well. The first time I manage to run off a few copies that get collated and stapled I'm shouting out "Who's the Man?!!?" After my mailman spikes my bills into my mailbox I'd like to see him give me a chest bump and then do a backflip off of my front step. During a colonscopy why don't we hear more doctors shout "No polyps here! Not in MY house!!" When I go to the bank to deposit the enormous check I make from writing this blog I want to hit fists with the teller and the see her hop up on the counter and do the worm (that's not so much funny as it is a fantasy of mine). If I don't get a raise at my next performance evaluation at work I can't wait to do the throat slash gesture and back out of the room pointing ominously at my supervisor. That will let her know who's the man.

I suppose it's great that professional athletes take so much pride in their work. Some day I hope I have a job I enjoy as much as they do. Until then I think I'll employ these ideas in my sex life. "Hey baby, you want a piece of me? Who's the man? Bring it on!" I'll be keeping a 20 gallon container of Gatorade next to the bed for the final celebration.