101 New Year's Resolutions ... 1970s and 1980s Style

The end of an old year and the beginning of a new year can be tough.

Have you done what you wanted to do?

Will you do what you want to do next year?

Do you even know what you want to do next year?

Maybe, maybe not. But I’ll bet you know what you would have done in the 1970s and 1980s.

I sure do.

So, with that in mind, here are 101 New Year’s resolutions, 1970s and 1980s style …

To beat my high score at Pac-Man at least once a month.
To step away from the Atari at least once a month.
To read every book Judy Blume, Richard Adams, and Beverly Cleary ever wrote.
To say no to drugs.
To not smoke marijuana all the time even though it won’t do anything to me.
To look for a job today … Ma.
To recognize my brain on drugs.
To learn it from watching you.
To build real estate riches with Carlton Sheets.
To stay true to the Grapefruit Diet.
To stay true to the Beverly Hills Diet.
To never miss a Jane Fonda workout.
To never miss a “Sweatin’ with the Oldies” workout with Richard Simmons.
To follow every bit of Charles Givens’ financial advice.
To “Awaken the Giant Within.”
To keep my braces clean.
To keep my room clean.
To make my writing neater.
To color inside the lines.
To pet my Pet Rock every day.
To trade in my Big Wheel for a Green Machine.
To convince my dad that there is no objective way King Kong could defeat Godzilla in a fair fight.
To get my mom to understand the difference between “The Who” and “The Guess Who.”
To not get wrapped up in misheard lyrics when singing along with “Blinded by the Light.”
To not sing “My Sharona” where anyone can hear me.

To trade in my VHS for a Betamax (I wanna be on the winning team for once).
To find the perfect mousse.
To fit into my parachute pants.
To be a perfect speller so Mrs. McGriff will give me one of those banana-flavored scratch ‘n sniff stickers.
To make it through a whole stack of multiplication flashcards without missing one.
To have perfect attendance at school.
To get sick the night before the classroom spelling bee.
To get someone else — a little brother? a neighborhood kid? — to hold the coat hanger for my dad during the Super Bowl.
To stop reading at speaking speed so I can finish my English homework before I collect my first Social Security check.
To wake up early every Saturday and never miss a second of cartoons.
To try a different box of sugary cereal every week until I find the perfect one. And then do it all again.
To eat enough Cracker Jack that I find every possible toy.
To eat enough Happy Meals that I collect every possible toy.
To eat enough Fun Meals from Burger Chef that I collect every box and every toy.
To stay up all night every night during the summer playing video games and reading books.
To stay up all night every night during Christmas break playing with toys and video games.
To do all my homework, even if I have to finish on the bus each morning.

To trade in my Peanuts lunch box for a Six Million Dollar Man lunch box.
To get a strobe light for my room.
To get a disco ball for my room.
To get a phone for my room.
To get a TV for my room.
To get a dog for my room.
To get a door that locks for my room.
To kick a home run in kickball.
To hit a home run in baseball.
To touch the basketball net.
To beat Dad in a footrace.
To program my Commodore 64 to run a military plane.
To spend all summer at the beach (even though I won’t leave the Midwest).
To eat more pizza.

To convince my mom to make more Chef Boyardee pizza.
To convince my mom to make more Chef Boyardee spaghetti.
To put our Christmas tree up the day after Halloween.
To keep our Christmas tree up until Spring Break.
To have a birthday party with a few hundred guests … at my house.
To be line leader all year long.
To be erase-cleaner all year long.
To have music class every day.
To have art class every day.
To have library every day.
To never lose a book mobile book and have to live in fear of the wrath of the book mobile driver all year long.
To keep my school books looking like new all year long even though they’ll get the Hell beat out of them on the bus.
To never get a spoiled milk at milk break.
To look super cool in my yearbook picture.

To miss school on picture day and get one of those blank slots in the yearbook — “Picture Not Available” — that says I’m too super cool to give a damn.
To get someone other than my mom to sign my school yearbook.
To climb to the top of the jungle gym at recess and stand there all period without losing a body part.
To get a Millennium Falcon, an Atari, and a Godzilla on the same Christmas.
To not get a New Kids on the Block CD from my grandmother.
To not get leg warmers from my grandmother.
To not get a mallard desk lamp from my grandmother.
To not get a musical toilet paper holder from the old lady next door.
To find cowboy boots that fit my fat foot.
To stay up late long enough to read “Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing” with my flashlight but without getting caught.
To record my dad saying something factually wrong on my tape recorder and then play it back to use it to my advantage.
To trade my Don Mattingly doubles for a Buddy Biancalana rookie card.

To watch Newhart like I’ll never see anything that good again.
To watch Seinfeld when it’s just a show about nothing that nobody really cares about.
To hone my Church Lady impression to the point that I can make even Dad giggle a little.
To read comic books when I’m supposed to be reading history books.
To be quieter when I’m eavesdropping on my mom from the other phone.
To always “”save after every keystroke when I’m writing a paper with WordStar.
To keep my floppy disks away from my stereo speakers because there are magnets in those things.
To park my hard drive before I even look at my computer.
To learn to take full advantage of the Atari paddle controls.
To watch The Good, The Bad and The Ugly all the way through on election night.
To watch Star Wars when it’s in theaters the first time.

To skip Dune when it’s in theaters.
To not rat out my mom to my dad when she lets me watch soap operas with her on a “sick” day home from school.
To break The Price Is Right pricing code.
To learn how to drive a stick while they still exist.
To ride my bike with no helmet and feel the wind in my hair as I careen down a gravel-road hill. And live to tell about it.
To learn how to work a skate key.
To learn how to work a ten-speed.
To give up on the Rubik’s Cube.

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