We have two sizes of drinking glasses at my house. I'm normally extremely loyal to the tall, skinny glasses, since they hold more liquid. I don't know if I'm so thirsty because I'm too lazy to eat, or if I'm so lazy because I'm so dehydrated. Regardless, we can all agree that the fewer trips needed for refills, the better.

But tonight, I went to pour the remainder of the New Year's Eve sparkling white grape juice into a glass. Only a pitiful amount was left, and I knew it would look even more pathetic in a tall glass. So in a bold move, I chose to fill a short, squatty glass with the remainder of the juice, trying to avoid the "is this half full or half empty?" conversation with the cat sitting on my foot.

I distracted myself by staring into the liquid, at which point I noticed that the majority of its "sparkle" had gone the way of 2008. However, the remaining fizz still allowed me to pretend that I was drinking a classy, alcoholic beverage instead of a glorified kindergarten staple. (If I'm being honest, that's one of my favorite parts of sparkling white grape juice and the main reason I chugged it straight from the bottle through most of 2007.) While I was thinking of alcohol, I noticed that the short, squatty glass in my hand could be mistaken for a very distant cousin of a traditional whiskey glass. I mean, one would probably have to be relatively smashed to make such a mistake, but there's still a chance that it could happen.

All this to say, I have spent the entire evening drinking apple juice from a short, squatty glass (oh my gosh, could I find another word for "glass" yet?) and pretending to be relaxed and charming because of it. Please tell me you did something cooler with your Saturday night.

My Dear 2009,

You already smell so fresh and promising, like clean sheets and autumn breezes and other things often found in laundry commercials. We've started off nicely, with an organized closet and clean clothes and a shower and shaved legs (in the middle of winter!) and healthy foods. On the other hand, I sense that this dreamy romance of ours could be rather short-lived, since unpleasant circumstances and responsibilities are piling up at work and school. I am skeptical, 2009. I have been burned before, and I'd rather not have that happen again.

That said, let's get around to laying down the ground rules. Play close attention, or you too will end up in eternal time-out.

Rule #1: Since it seems that I can't get through a year without a Hell Week, let me once again limit the number of Hell Weeks allowed to one (1) per year. The tradition is that these things occur some time in the Spring, but I beg of you not to throw anything nasty at me during finals, mmk? I'd like to graduate before I'm forty, so I can't risk failing my exams because of your poor timing on the Hell Week thing.

Rule #2: Again, consider it one of your main goals to rock my socks off. I finally organized my sock drawer last week, so you can even rock matching pairs of socks from my feet. Sounds fun, huh? Well, trust me, it is. Let's get started on this part right away.

Rule #3: Take care of my friends and family. 2008 received a grade of EPIC FAIL on this rule, and I will cut you if you follow that same path. There are some really nifty people in my life, both online and off, and I have no desire to see them cry. Pirates are no good at comforting people in distress or at curing cancer, so just play nice.

Last year, I had the crazy goals of blogging daily and exercising daily. I failed at both, but I did blog more in 2008 than in any other year. (Maybe. I didn't actually verify that. Just pretend.) So in 2009, I'd like to commit to blogging and exercising three to five times per week. That seems reasonable, and it will hopefully help me to feel guilty less often. Pirates are no good at feeling guilty.

Anyway, 2009, you have your rules. Obey them, and I will give you a pot of gold, a kiss on the mouth, and a partridge in a pear tree. (Pirates are definitely good at kissing.)

God bless, my sweet 2009, and best wishes to all who will be enduring it with me.

Happy New Year!

So long, 2008. And to some degree, good riddance.

I really can't say too many bad things about a year that included yetis, avenging my childhood by downloading and watching The Phantom Tollbooth, my Sim-tastic marriage to Frodo Baggins, and the discovery of wwujd.com (What Would Uncle Jesse Do?) all in the first month. Then again, you broke my heart by failing to bring me together with 2007's Panera Kyle or this year's Cute Tuesday Boy.

I'm too lazy to flip through the rest of the archives to remember what else happened, so let's skip to the performance review. Now, I gave you some pretty clear instructions, and I'd like to know what exactly was so difficult to understand about Rule #3. A lot of my friends had fairly terrible years, losing jobs and dealing with miscarriages and suffering from severe illnesses and grieving the loss of loved ones. I don't really mind so much that you gave me a Hell Week—I think I'm getting used to them now—but I do need to give you a b'massive scolding for beating up my friends and family so badly. You are so totally getting put on the naughty list for that. In fact, you're also on time-out, so go find a corner and be quiet for the rest of eternity.

Anyway, thanks for the job and the education and the fish and the sock monkey and the friends and the family and even the make-out sessions, but I think you could've tried a little harder to rock my socks off, 2008. Hopefully, 2009 will learn from your mistakes.

Much love (but not really),
Rachelskirts