I was sitting at home last night, working my way through a bottle of Proseco, and wondering what I should do with my life. Given that I’m now in my 40s, it’s a good question.
Thanks to the Internet, I’m watching more bad TV than ever before. And thanks to general midlife malaise, I’m drinking more than ever before. This all adds up to my wasting more time than ever before.
So, last night, while tipsy, and mindlessly watching the incredibly vacuous antics of the Real Housewives of New York on my Power Mac instead of trying to meet a work deadline that slowly was swimming out of my bleary field of vision, I decided to take control of my life.
Then, I had another sip of my drink, and decided that I’d start taking control of my life after I finished the bottle of Proseco.
So, here I am this morning, dealing with a hangover and a mission. Here are some thoughts on how I’d like the last half of my life to play out.
• I recently was compared to the Sesame Street character Elmo. This is how the conversation went:
“You remind me of someone famous.”
“J-Lo?” I asked hopefully.
This may explain why no one takes me seriously. And I want to be taken seriously, now that I’m in my 40s. So, I’ve decided to become ruthless. I think this means that I have to start wearing lipstick, because every ruthless woman I know wears lipstick. After I become ruthless, I’m going to master the art of staring into mid-distance when bored during a date.
• I’ve toyed with the idea of cutting back on my wine drinking. But I’ve got a better idea. I only am going to date women who drink more than I, so that I feel like I’m drinking less in comparison.
• I’ve decided to become a doctor! I don’t have the time to go to medical school, but I really don’t think you need that. I’m going to open an office in the basement of my building. I’ve started watching old episodes of E.R. to learn the basics.
• Now that I’ll be making big money as a doctor, I’m going to get me one of those trophy wives. Then, I’m going to cheat on her with a trophy girlfriend.
• At some point, I’d like to be named a Viscount. I’m not sure how you go about getting such a title, but I’m pretty sure that wearing lipstick will help.
• For years, I’ve been dreaming about getting a pet pig and a goat. My mother has threatened to cut me off if I do so. Well, Mother, now that I am a Ruthless Viscount Doctor, I don’t need you, your money, or your bourgeois prejudices against farm animals.
• I’m going to start speaking French—or at least speaking English with a French accent. I no longer will acknowledge friends who insist on communicating with me in Pig Latin.
• I’d like to get involved in a well-publicized sex scandal. I’m not sure how to go about this, but, again, I think that wearing lipstick will help.
Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I never will be able to pull off lipstick. I suppose there are worse things than going through life as a drunken Muppet that has an odd affection for reality shows.
Hey, I wrote a book! You can buy Dateland on Amazon.