I don’t have a New Year’s resolution
I don’t have a New Year’s resolution, apart from the usual “try not to be such a bitch” and “think before you once again say something completely inappropriate.” I had a good intention last spring, when I was all hot on the idea of loving everyone and telling the truth. But you know what? I kept it up for a week or so, and then I forgot and start acting like a bitch again.
I am trying to be more honest, though, but you know what I figured out? It takes courage to say what’s really in your heart. You’d think it would be easier: after all, it’s a short trip between your heart and your lungs, you should be able to blow out the truth any time you feel like it. Instead, the truth takes a long detour through the neverending construction zone of my brain, and it’s so pissed off by the time it comes out my mouth. And then it drinks too much beer and starts a fight.
There are tricks to telling the truth like an adult, like using tact and resisting maliciousness. I don’t know why I never learned that. Oh, right, it’s because I’m a total coward. You think I’m being hard on myself, but I’m not. I’m kind of joking. It takes the edge of the horror of existence.
Just kidding! I’m giving $50 to Oxfam today, and another $50 to Doctors Without Borders. There’s pretty much no horror to my existence, I have everything I need. An electric toothbrush, for example, to combat gingivitis. That’s serious; my oldest brother is having half his teeth pulled and getting a plate. My dental hygienist told me that using mouthwash is just as good as flossing. That seems to be the stance of the Canadian Dental Hygienist Association, too, so it must be true.
Remember in Ruben, Ruben where Tom Conti says, “My greatest fear is toothlessness”? It’s not mine, but it occurs to me now that the truth needs teeth. The truth needs teeth! I think I’ll have that tattooed on my lower lip.