and chocolate gelt that these kinds of topics morph from giant holiday turds into well-worn, time-honored chesnuts. We have a problem and we're admitting it now.

And so, our meeting of female minds won't discuss their New Year's Resolutions for 2004. But 2005? Completely different story. We like to be all ahead-of-the-curve and stuff here at the BT. Besides, with one day until the New Year, 2004 began to seem so, well, 2003.

Pop corks. Commence ball dropping.

Jennie Dorris

My friends in high school used to torture me by sitting in the car at a stoplight between two fast food restaurants. "Which one," they would croon, and I would scream, because I cannot make decisions. Not small ones, not big ones. I can't decide between things and I can't decide on things. I tried to quit smoking for my birthday last year ("Smoke free by 23") and this year ("Smoke no more at 24") and I've already resigned to "Still alive at 25." I don't need to lose weight. But I am an asshole, I guess I could work on that. As I floundered to my editor, he merely snappishly responded for me to hurry up, just make a decision, and be funny, for god's sake.

And as soon as he said that, it became clear that even I could figure out a wish for two years from now. I would like an ear on my back. A very large, wing-like ear that would hook into a good deal of my spine. It would be freshly swabbed, and would move about a bit editorially. ("She says she's happy but look at that ear -- it's folding over. You know what that means.")

Yes, a back ear. Bring it, 2005.

Jennie Dorris is the prettiest thing in Colorado. She is also publisher of Knot Magazine.

Kathie Fries

If I were to actually stick to any of my resolutions my body would look like Heidi Klum's, my skin would glow like Nicole Kidman's because I quit smoking and drinking, and I would be the sweetest person you'd ever met. Those three being completed in 2004 I would be hard pressed to come up with more resolutions. But I think I've come up with some good ones.

I would resolve to use my new Heidi Klum-like body to make millions of dollars being a model. Then I would learn how to box. After becoming an excellent boxer, I would fight
Muhammad Ali's daughter and knock her out in the first round because she annoys the hell out me. I would also punch out people who sing on the subway and play stupid beeping games on their cell phones. Mole is not entertaining, read a book already.

Another resolution would be to tell people exactly what I think of them. This causes conflict because I already resolved to be a sweeter person, but that behavior would be reserved for people I know and like. Strangers, on the other hand, are a different matter. I would tell the slow walking women of New York, to get out of my way as I punch them in the back of the head. Then I'd explain to them that if they didn't buy $7 stilettos at the crap shoe stores on 14th Street, they could walk a lot better. I would also resolve to scream at the deli guys who serve me my coffee. If I ask for coffee with milk, no sugar, there is no reason to ask me once more, and sometimes twice, if I want sugar.

And I think I would most definitely have to resolve to build a time machine. Wouldn't that be rad?

Kathie Fries just moved to a cheaper part of the city and can now afford to buy more expensive stilettos.

Blaise K.

In reviewing resolutions past, I've realized that in odd years I do the opposite of what I did in even years. So when my 2004 resolutions go horribly wrong, they'll all be undone in 2005 anyway. In 2005, I will:

• Stop fucking women. They're as bad as men, so stick with the cocks that come naturally.
  
  
• Re-stock contents of my nightstand drawer.
  
  
• Smoke like a chimney, lighting one cigarette off another at all times.
  
  
• Quit writing articles with two-hour deadlines for zero pay.
  
  
• Be more self-absorbed: All me, all the time.
  
  
• Get someone else to put up those shelves and finally paint the living room.
  
  
• Start going for musicians again. Maybe that really was a good idea.
  
  
• Stay home more. Parties are totally overrated. I see more hot straight guys on Tivo.
  
  
• Exercise? I smoke way too much for that nonsense.

Blaise K.'s website, www.bazima.com, was written up in the New York Press' 2003 "Best of Manhattan" issue, even though she lives in Brooklyn. Currently, she is writing a letter to your parents telling them you're a whore.

Claire Zulkey

For New Year's 2005, I will be twenty five years old. That's a quarter decade, people. So I'm hoping that by that point I realize what bullshit New Year's Resolutions are. What's so special about January 1 that makes people want to change the way they live? Furthermore, nobody ever cares about resolutions past, say, January 4. If you ran into a buddy of yours in August who said "Yep, still running 4 miles a day, like I swore in January!"or "I can't believe I'm still being nicer to my family, after all these months!" you'd back away. Because that was in the past, man, and this is the present. Or future. Or something like that. The point is, resolutions are just a made up way to keep the holidays semi special. You show me somebody who seriously improved their life by making a New Year's resolution and sticking to it, and I'll show you somebody who is absolutely no fun. Resolutions are fine, New Year's resolutions are dumb. Just like romance is great, but people who make a huge deal out of Valentine's Day are gay.

Don't let the calendar dictate your life.

However, I'm still young and stupid and for some reason I made the Passing remark that I would quit smoking in 2004. ONLY in 2004. So after an excruciating year, I'm looking forward to being older, wiser, knowing that if you need to change your life for the better, you shouldn't have to wait for the start of the calendar year, and having a nice satisfying cancer stick.

Claire Zulkey zulks it daily at Zulkey.com and her first book "Girls! Girls! Girls!" can be purchased here.

Tracy Weiss

To be fair, I think New Year's Resolutions are stupid. I have no idea where I am sleeping tonight, more or less what goals I will want to achieve in the next year. I cannot decide on a pair of winter boots…how the hell am I to know what I want out of 2004?
But perhaps, one year from now, I am already svelte and have figured out how to handle an 80 hour work week while still cleaning my bathroom regularly. I have curbed my alcohol intake to 2 drinks a day. Nearing perfection, I resolve in 2005 I will conquer the final frontier -- my kitchen.

I cannot cook. In the grand tradition of my mother, I have only learned how to make reservations. Because of that, square meals solely exist when dating men who take pity and feed me. But when left to my own devices, I don't consider proteins or roughage or fitting into the eleven black skirts I have in my closet. I think of only one thing.

Popcorn.

While I am obsessed with cookbooks and Forman Grills and yellowtail sashimi and frozen gnocchi from Trader Joes, any sense of my gourmet is lost when I am faced with my own stove and hand mixer. I regularly eat microwave popcorn for dinner. I prefer Pop Secret to Victoria's. Old school Jiffy Pop makes my knees weak. As every kernel explodes, I know I am one step closer to the salty goodness that is my Nirvana.

But no more! I will reach a quarter of a century this year. I have to start behaving (and eating) like an adult. In the year 2005, I will open the Joy of Cooking. I will find the confidence to prepare a veal piccata dinner. I will channel Martha Stewart and make my own biscotti.

Or at the very least, I'll try out the Kung Pow Klusters on the Orville Redenbacher web site.

Tracy Weiss is probably that person at work who makes microwave popcorn and stinks up the whole office.

Jami Attenberg

I only ever make resolutions I am guaranteed to keep, because I am a results-focused individual! (RFI™) 2004's resolution was a simple one: to garner as many frequent flier miles as possible through use of my credit card.

Easy as pie, people. For starters, don't work for six-nine months, but still eat, shop, and travel frequently. Then double-time it. You're going to have to work hard if you want to keep your goals On Track, On Target, and On Fire. (Feel free you use that phrase for inspiration when you feel like you're falling behind in your goals. Just remember to credit me when asked.)

A year later, I've earned myself one free flight anywhere in the continental U.S. (contiguous states only, natch), and it cost me just nine thousand dollars! And in just six more months I'll be able to update that ticket to business class. Dreams do come true! As for 2005, I plan on watching more tranny anal porn. You might think it sounds easy, but really, there's not as much tranny anal porn out there as one would suspect. Happy New Year!

Jami Attenberg will be flying to Phoenix on business class before you
know it. In the interim, she can be found at Whatever-whenever.net.

Maud Newton

For 2004, I resolved to gain 500 pounds, start smoking, dye my hair platinum, and lie on the beach until I achieved the 80's photo negative look adopted by Paris Hilton.

No thanks to you naysaying asswipes, I met all of these goals.

My tanning secret: seventeen trips a week to the tanning booth and 300 bottles of beta-carotene tablets. Sure I pee blood now and my skin has the consistency of your calfskin wallet, but my teeth seem much whiter.

Also I can take up three seats on the V train, and I don't have to resort to the sad male tactic of spreading my legs that wide to try to convince people that I've got a large package. (Honey, the wider you spread 'em, the more I can see you don't really need to.) Having leapt such high hurdles in the last year, it's hard to think of anything left to accomplish in 2005. But I'm a resourceful woman, and it's hard these days to find fashionable clothes that fit.

So I've resolved in 2005 to establish the muumuu as the height of New York City fashion.

I'll start in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. First I'll purchase muumuus from Discount Warehouse on Grand Avenue and emblazon them with slogans like "I've Got a Trust Fund, But I'll Still Cut You" and "You Don't Like My Muumuu, Motherfucker? Four of my tallest, gauntest girlfriends will wear them with razor-blade earrings, jelly bracelets, and New Wave slouch boots. They'll parade up and down Bedford Avenue glowering through their maroon-tinted aviator lenses.

Then they'll saunter down to the L train, ride it to First Avenue, disembark and sashay toward the Lower East Side. Soon enough the Strokes' girlfriends will be sighted on Rivington in custom muumuus. Believe it.

Maud Newton writes about whatever she goddamn pleases
at MaudNewton.com.

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