Well, we did it. We survived 2015. If you’re reading this, we’ve likely spent a good portion of the year hanging out and lamenting over the trials and tribulations of the last 52 weeks and/or 365 days. We laughed. We cried. And we laughed and cried simultaneously, probably when listening to Adele. (And then we wept when we couldn’t get tickets.)
So I’m ready for 2016. I’m ready to see the Jays go to post-season again (and to try and casually bump into Josh Donaldson at a bar or event or on the street or in the hallway of his apartment building that I’ve somehow and mysteriously tracked down and found, but it doesn’t matter how so stop asking me). I’m ready for new music by Rihanna and Drake and Kanye West. I’m ready for us to stop debating the merit or validity of Kim Kardashian or the Karadshian clan in general, and I’m ready to babysit North and Saint, should I be asked.
I’m ready for a new X-Men movie and to force myself to watch The Wire for the fifth year in a row. I’m ready for new books, new TV shows, and to live tweet award shows because I’m the worst, and I’m psyched for a celebrity to do something so dumb or weird that we make it a running joke for about six days as if this has never happened before.
And I’m ready to #work. Guys, I know I don’t know all of you because I can’t see who’s actually reading this, but I will say that I’m pretty sure we all worked like true champions over the course of 2015 and we’ve laid the groundwork for a new year that will accept absolutely no nonsense. Which I think is reasonable. I don’t believe in new year’s resolutions (because they’re stupid), but I do believe in goals; in looking at a year ahead and saying, “Okay, year — here’s how I’m going to completely demolish you.”
I am ready to enter into 2016 with a sense of demolition. Where 2015 was an uphill climb (for, like, every person I know), 2016 will be the party we completely fuck up simply by being there. We will all do a slow motion enter into this yet-to-be baptized party room, and we will turn the party into whatever we want because we learned things from 2015 that we will 110% apply to the next 52 weeks. This is as close to The Hills’ opening theme we’ll get (until next January) (#unwritten — get it?).
So let’s make this our next resolution: to absolutely own the shit out of 2016. To work hard, to think harder, and to embrace the things we love with a veracity of those much less jaded and cynical than we probably are.
Which is exactly how I plan on explaining all my award show live-tweeting for yet another year of my life and/or opinions on Justin Bieber. You have been warned, all of you.