• Pay credit card bill.
  • Buy some birthday cards. Odds are it will be someone’s birthday at some point in 2017.
  • Buy groceries. It’s the new year so try to be a bit healthy.
  • Buy the greasiest, sweetest, deep-fried object you can find (which may or may not be classed as “food”) and insert directly into gut.
  • Throw up a little bit.
  • Realize you’re several weeks into 2017 and you haven’t prepared for the inevitable apocalypse following last November’s “interesting” detour into a, shall we say, rather uncertain political landscape.
  • Throw up a little bit.
  • Buy many cans of soup in preparation for apocalypse, having watched enough Walking Dead and C-SPAN to know that it pays to be prepared.
  • Relax and think about all the kinds of physical activity you will attempt this year.
  • Come to the realization that you have body fat which constitutes the only living specimen (you know of) that loves you unconditionally. Vow to save said body fat from the evils of physical exertion and encase it in a sedentary cushion of marshmallow-flavored comfort.
  • Buy leggings to protect precious body fat from judgmental gaze of the outside world.
    *You’re going to need a lot more leggings than that!
  • Find out what Pokémon Go was about.
  • Stop stress eating and thinking about impending apocalypse and buy more soup.
  • Find out if you can blame the soup shortage in your local supermarket on immigrants rather than my panic buying.
    *Ignore previous item, pretty sure you can blame immigrants for everything.
  • Find happiness blaming said immigrants; eat pray hate.
  • Make a sentient robot companion from empty soup cans.
  • Find new happiness with robot companion.
  • Find out robot companion has decided to run for president.
  • Plan presidential campaign for next election, wherein said election will be decided by a wrestling match between the candidates. My robot companion has decided to be a heel.
  • Come to the realization that body fat won’t do in a popularity contest between the first ladies.
  • Seriously contemplate who to choose, robot companion or body fat; watch a romantic comedy and psych self up to make a decision between the two.
  • Choose robot companion, as you inevitably prefer living in a (by then) blinged up White House adorned with gold droplets of dried Mexican tears.
  • Get liposuction and keep body fat in a jar, as something tells you that, in the future, it’s the thing you’re supposed to end up with all along.
  • Following gender-specific mandatory makeover/lobotomy, run a successful campaign for robot companion, who then goes on to win the deciding wrestling match (I mean he’s made of tin, so… you know).
  • Appropriate the lyrics to ‘Timber” by Pitbull featuring Ke$ha for speech as First Lady.
  • Spend the first two months as First Lady lost in the White House, not wanting to call for help in case you appear that you’re in over your head.
  • Realize that you’re in way over your head and run into the woods, complete with arms flailing in comic fashion.
  • Find Hillary Clinton, who has by this time co-founded a commune with Bernie Sanders and a bunch of Democrats (who have been forced into the wilderness in recent years), reminiscent of Viggo Mortensen’s family in Captain Fantastic – main difference being that Hillary’s nominated herself as commune president.
  • Go shopping. Buy one guitar, one poncho, four jazz CDs, two Noam Chomsky books, and lots of beaded bracelets.
  • Join commune.
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