Best Laid Plans

After three weeks of severe lashings, which I got for my 2012 blog failure, I have decide to set more realistic goals for this year. In what should be a blistering twelve months, I intend to live life to the fullest. Here is the provisional list.
 

Not as comfortable as it looks I can tell you.

In 2013, I hope to...
 

    •    Buy lots of Sudocrem for the fresh scars all over my body.
 

    •    Think of a cool Church of Satan name for when I finally join them.
 

    •    Be nicer to my family. I will visit my parents more often, and Skype Ethel at least once a month (provided they don't disown me when I finally join the Church of Satan). Upon joining, I will have to forsake my blog, but will leave it in the hands of my sister, Gwendolyn.

   •    Starve my body into handing over the six-pack abs I so richly deserve. Already, I've embarked on a radical diet, that consists mostly of green vegetables, protein shakes, and black tea.
    

•  I'm going to spend time absorbing a gargantuan amount of classical literature and philosophy. Partially from books, mostly from Facebook cover pictures.
 

    •    Assimilate so many texts that I speak only in literary references (with a smug look on my face that somehow spells out 'Punch Me'). Detractors will say of the breadth of my literary knowledge that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy. I do not expect them to understand immediately, as no man is a prophet in his own country. Hopefully, they will come to see that I only quote others in order to better express myself.
 

    •    Do something that scares me every day. As my fear will surely wane after countless days of terrifying deeds, this will quickly escalate into acts of daredevil foolishness, and I may well earn the Darwin Award.
 

    •    Live each day as though it's my last. I'm not entirely sure where I'll get the money for all the heroin, decadent food, alcohol, and prostitutes, especially considering I will have to quit my job (who would go to work on their last day on Earth?). I may have to settle for living every second or third day as if it was my last.
 

    •    Have sex with a man. Probably on one of the days I don't live life like it's my last day on Earth, as I'm not that pushed about the whole idea. I really just want to do it to say I did it, so people will grow to a greater understanding of how interesting I am.
 

    •    Find out who sent me that picture of a baby with a letter telling me it was mine. Again, my days of investigation will have to be on the days I won't be living my life like it's my last, and it will have to be at a time when I'm not working, doing sit-ups, reading the classics, flirting with guys, or putting my life needlessly in mortal danger.
 

    •    Tell my loved ones that I love them. There's no need for an occasion; I'll just pick up the phone, call them, and let them know. Some may grow to believe I have developed a deep, suicidal depression with all the calls, my emaciated body, evenings spent indoors with books, and risks I take with my life, but that's the whole point; love is pasting yourself to another individual, regardless of the cost, in the hope of experiencing new forms of misery (or so I read on a Facebook cover photo, I think.)
 

    •    Post Instagram pictures of my food on Facebook. I think everyone will get something valuable from the countless faded pictures of raw broccoli, protein shakes, and celery.
 

    •    Write fifty blog articles (with some help!).

With any luck, I won't have to do this again.