What do you want from me? I’m a slow study, plus I’ve been busy eating all the meat in the Midwest and napping. Well, NO MORE! It’s taken a whopping 17 days, but the power and glory of the almighty Beyoncé’s Visual Album has officially crept into the contours of my brain like one of her intricately gilded thongs. Thanks to my new mentor, I am emboldened towards and horny for 2014 a whole two days early, armed with the following new set of standards:
Just say no to spray tans!
Finally learn how to surf.
Keep relentlessly Instagramming the sunset to remind the world I’m drunk in love with nature.
In fact, take it one step further and reclaim the whole beach! Everyone get off my beach.
Cultivate a deeper appreciation for art.
For example, maybe I am the Virgin Mary? You don’t know. Go with it.
Occasionally experiment with subtlety.
Yet when the time is right, FULLY embrace neons.
Only fringed boots from now on.
Furs shall best showcase my swimwear.
More animal prints in general! All day every day.
I vow to rethink the entire concept of what shorts are.
Let it all hang out!
Except when it’s more appropriate to cover up.
Specifically, invest in a mirrored table and learn how to really lean in on it.
Make some cooler friends/workout buddies from the ’70s.
Just exercise more, you bitch.
Get creative with it.
Acquire a sweet training belt if I have to.
Work out so much I have no choice but to treat each contour of my body like a national monument.
Become a more glamorous driver.
Let the maid get it!
Definitely eat more fruit.
Consider some tasteful ink.
Remember to breathe.
Remember to bathe.
Go green for at least, like, one day.
Keep the romantic mystery alive.
And above all, remember to cradle what’s important.