New Years Rezzos are a joke, but don't dig through this blog or @ me

Trying to keep New Years resolutions are like George Bush trying to put a poncho on

I’ll keep it short. This year has been a BLT/diner omelette of different types of confusion and feces, (or fekees if you’re an avid “Who Is America?” viewer.) So you, lovely reader, could in all reasonableness say “Layls, make yourself some resolutions! Take control of your life! Watch some Tony Robbins! Call Carl Lentz!” Yeah sure… but do they ever stick!? Look me in the eyes and tell me if they stick. I could avow to drink more lemon water, hop on a bike at Soul Cycle and swear not to publicly fall off, drop my mildly worrying Hikikomori act, (more on that later), eat more nutritional yeast (wtf is it I haven’t a clue), finally figure out why everyone is scared of gluten and if I should be too… I could do ANY OF THOSE THINGS but I REFUSE. Possibly out of general fear that my list will get too long; I have too much to resolve and too much that I can’t. Everyone is all “Be kind to yourself, love yourself etc”, but I, reader, am a tiger mom. With myself being both mother and child.

I digress.

I’m keeping it shitty and simple. As an ex-beauty host and forever beauty addict, I have an unfathomable amount of makeup. Today I trashed half of it. Presto. Year begun. Something resolved. In the process, a massive cork board, covered in photos of friends but mostly a giant shrine to Princess Diana (DO NOT EVEN ASK), belonging to yours truly fell off the wall and onto someone (me), so I took that as a sign from someone (Tony Robbins!?) and trashed the whole damn thing too. Presto. #2. My #3 is to write something every damn day. Even if it’s here. And even if only my dog reads it which is cool because I’m still not sure if she can she even likes my writing. It’ll probably be mostly about Princess Di anyway.

HERES TO 2019