By Dale Brasel
My Personal Beautification Project for 2010 and Pending Susan Boyle Moment. A New Year, a New You…or at least a new YouTube video showcasing a cat flushing a toilet. Come on, it’s still funny. As I write this, it is mere hours before the entrance of a new decade, and my only panicked thought is, “What the hell I am supposed to kiss at the stroke of midnight?” There is a whirlwind of yearend Top Ten lists that have me thinking that I should rid myself of all of the toxic things that brought this boy down in 2009. Not so much New Year Resolutions as a campaign I am calling “The Dale Brasel Beautification Project, 2010.” The year 2009 was hard on everybody I know, and everybody I know is waiting to have their very own Susan Boyle moment…that magical (if only in your own mind) episodic moment when all is right in the world, you hit your personal best, and a mantra echoes in you head of, “You go, girl!” And by “girl,” I mean 46 year-old man. Never mind that I don’t have any real talent—that never stopped Kate Hudson.
I therefore vow to the following to initiate the Dale Brasel Beautification Project 2010:
10) I promise to spend more time in Costco than in Neiman Marcus. Pushing a flatbed and snacking on freshly baked bite-sized snacks has its own unique glamour attached.
9) I promise not to be enveloped in what happens to Jon and Kate, or their eight. Is it odd that I had the same haircut as Kate back in 1982, give or take a rat-tail?
8) I promise that even though I know way too many names of the Kardashians (Kris, Kim, Khole, and Kourtney), that I will attempt to never know the names of the last two of those “K” girls, who are bound to be a series spin-off.
7) I promise to spend more time watching new decade visionary Rachel Maddow, who is far smarter (and more crisply dressed) than me, over the 2000’s Bill Maher, who is much shorter (and higher) than me.
6) I promise that whenever Bernie Madoff says, “I’d gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today,” not to believe him.
5) I promise that I will never again put a little Colorado boy in an attic and tell him to lie about being in a Mylar balloon in hopes of a big signing bonus for a reality television show.
4) I promise not to wear sleeveless, J. Crew tops, exposing my well-developed arms. Such acts only lead to unpleasant, partisan fodder for Bill O’Reily and the entire Fox News Channel.
3) I promise that whenever asked about a certain relationship to offer the stock answer, ‘Tiger Woods and I are only Facebook friends.”
2) I promise to learn how to properly fold a fitted sheet. It’s a small thing, but it has wreaked havoc in too many linen closets for far too long. If not now, when? If not me, who?
1) I promise not to give in to the temptations of Twitter. I love my friends, but don’t need to know instantaneously when they are buying socks.
Promises, promises, promises. It is said that beauty is only skin deep…but ugly is to the bone. I think I’ve still got good bones, so my personal beautification project will start at the musculoskeletal level before the onset of osteoporosis and arthritis. Okay, just a little Botox wouldn’t hurt either. Hello, 2010…bring on my Susan Boyle moment.
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