Happy Freaking New Year.

I'm in a list making mood.

I always make lists in January, optimistically believing that if I write down what I want to achieve in the New Year, those written words will be so powerful, I'll have no choice but to achieve everything on that list.

I'll go on to a guest spot on Oprah, in which I discuss the secret of using bullet points instead of dashes as a way to bolster empowerment. Fame and fortune ensues.

The top of the list always starts with, "Lose 30 pounds." Of course by February I've usually eaten the list out of hunger so momentum gets lost. This year's list is no different, but I'm making more of an effort to diversify.

A friend described how a friend of hers has started a scrapbook for her New Year's goals. She's added headings to each blank page, so that if she doesn't pull through she's left with a pathetic empty scrapbook. No memories, just wasted headlines. Tying together self-shame with the opportunity to use a glitter stick is brilliant.

In the meantime, I've compiled a few other lists...

Things That Did NOT Happen Over the Holidays That Are Totally Surprising to Everybody Including Me:

• Bursting into flames immediately upon entering a Catholic Church for Midnight Mass
• Breaking any part of my body while skating on a frozen lake or hiking over ice in Jasper
• Permanent ass numbness as a result of performing above activities without long johns
• Hangovers

Things That Happened That Are Totally Not Surprising to Anybody Else But Shocked the F*ck Out Of Me Just the Same:

• Discovering the hard way that my Telephone Boyfriend was hesitant to meet because the picture he sent me was of somebody else entirely. Somebody attractive.
• Finding out that opening the door and seeing your Telephone Boyfriend is not the really cute guy you were expecting as per his picture, but instead somebody you've never seen before in your life can be considered a cardio workout, providing your heart plummeting to your knees is doctor recommended.
• Realizing that as much as I may think I like a guy's personality, if he physically reminds me in any way of the Dad from The Family Guy then nakedness is never going to happen, because I'm shallow. And sane.
• A man can log over 100 hours talking to a woman, and still not tell the truth once.
• Acknowledging sadness over the ending of something that never actually started with somebody that doesn't actually exist is a new personal low, for which no possible therapy is available.

And that is how my telephone relationship ended. Badly, quickly and at my doorstep. I invited him in for a bit, mostly so I could study his features and confirm I wasn't losing my mind or vision. I wasn't.

When I suggested things weren't going to work out, he was resigned. Naturally he didn't have to ask why, and when I tried to tell him he became rather upset. Apparently he had kept telling me it would be better if we could just keep it on the phone, but I didn't listen. In those moments, I felt strangely sorry for him...which may be the only reason he's still alive.

I'm trying not to be bitter over this, because I'm hoping if I continue on my current dating trajectory I'll end up with a book deal. Granted, I'll still die alone surrounded by whatever small furry creatures I end up substituting for cats, but at least my obituary will read, "published author," shortly after the phrase, "survived by no one."

Happy New Year Everybody!