New Year’s Resolutions.

New Year’s resolutions have never really been my thing.  This blog post itself is a sign of my inability to follow through with something. I was supposed to write this post yesterday; after all, how fitting would it have been to start fresh on such a cool date?  1/1/11 – the day Voula marches on to success!  But I have no excuse – stuff got in the way.  I was watching a marathon of “The Office” and was mesmerized by Dwight’s dog-like obedience to authority.  Now all I have to do is pump myself back up:  I AM AWESOME!!!!!!

Here are my New Year’s Resolutions (in no particular order):

(1) Follow-through on plans/goals/whatever.  I just have to suck it up and do it.  I’m going to chase the good feeling I get when I accomplish something; even something as simple as dusting the living room or cleaning the kitchen counters or shaving my legs.  I’m gonna chase it like it’s my next high.

(2) Re-focus on my fitness.  Yes, I know, everybody has this resolution when the new year starts. But I must do this.  After my gallbladder surgery in August I gained 20 lbs. and frankly, I don’t like looking at my ass anymore.  I need to look in the mirror and like what I see.  Also, I want to be able to bounce a quarter off said ass.

(3) Focus on my friendships.  Or, to put it more bluntly, be a better friend.  I have issues with keeping in touch with people and frankly, that is pretty sad for a 31-year-old.  “No man is an island,” they say, but for me 2010 was the year I was a lonely little island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, lost in my own head and forgetting my problems by smoking…stuff.  I need to clear my head and prioritize the people, not the lonely haze that I have unfortunately become comfortable in.

And I think I will stop my list right here to keep it manageable.  I’m taking a deep breath and starting fresh.  I’m hoping I don’t fall flat on my face and I’m hoping I come out the other end a better person.  And I hope my ass looks like a million bucks.  And it’ll look so good I won’t be able to resist giving it a sexy slap.

Chatty Kathys all around…

What is it about certain days?  Does the universe conspire to make some of your days more difficult?  Could it be karma? Could it be that I attract lunacy around me?

What I was hoping for yesterday was a relaxing day.  What I got was a day filled with all the chatty Kathys of the world.  I only have a limited amount of patience for people who like to talk without taking a single breath between their thoughts – yesterday I was looking in my reserve tanks to find any remaining inkling of patience to help me avoid screaming on the top of my lungs in frustration.

Chatty Kathy #1 is a four-year-old girl who is staying at the hotel with her parents.  Although she is absolutely precious and adorable – she really is – this girl can put Joan Rivers down in a question contest.  I recently read a piece of trivia stating that the average four-year-old asks approximately 400 questions per day.  This girl has asked me 400 questions every single morning for the last eight mornings. Where are you going? Why are you doing it?  Where are you going?  But why? Where?  Why? Where? Why? WHEEERRREEE???  WHHHYYYYY???  It’s never-ending.  God bless her, but I feel like I’ve been through an interrogation every time I venture out to say good morning to her parents.  She’s like a pint-sized Jack Bauer:

WHEREEE???? WHYYYYY????

Chatty Kathy #2 incidentally goes by the name of Katerina, which could be roughly translated to Kathy in English. She’s a customer at my sister’s clothing shop where she ran into me yesterday afternoon while I was working at the shop.  We get to talking about, what else?  The current economic climate in Greece, which, granted, has been on everyone’s minds this year.  But we’ve had this conversation before.  Several times.  Verbatim.

Cue Katerina’s entry.  Pop conversation tape in brain.  Press Play.  Drive Voula crazy.  This conversation includes her business practices at her sweets shop. What kind of cream she uses in her pastries.  How many days she can sell them fresh.  Why she throws them out after the third day.  How she’s tried pastries at other shops and what quality they were in.  This went on for 45 minutes.  She’s standing the whole time.  You ever have those conversations with people that generate this nervous feeling deep inside?  That’s what it was like – I felt this nervous, anxious vibration in my chest.  All I wanted to do was stand up and scream at the top of my lungs:

LEAVE PLEASE!!!!

It’s a miracle I contained myself.

Chatty Cathy #3 found me in the evening when I was out at a café enjoying the last full moon of the summer with my mom, sister and a friend.  This woman has chatty running through her veins, as her sister is my neighbor and I have been the victim of her chattiness many a times.  Lady, let me tell you something: I really have no interest to hear all the details about your shopping trip, for a kitchen rug no less, nor do I want to hear about it for half an hour.  Take a breath, please.  And mom, really, you don’t have to encourage her – I beg of you.

The object of her affection.

Thank the Lord above my sister came with her own car and after an hour she gets up to leave.  Success!  I made a clean break and I hightailed it out of there.  For all the pain and suffering that I went through I rewarded myself with a joint and a couple of back-to-back episodes of The Office.  A little Dwight Schrute makes you forget your trouble, that’s for sure.

Fact:  Chatty Kathys will drive you insane.