Resolution Week: 10 Ways I’m Going Annihilate The New Year Now That I’m Finally Not Pregnant On A Holiday

Oh, man, if you can somehow find a way to plan your life perfectly, don’t be pregnant on a holiday. Especially not my all-time favorite holiday that only comes but once a year: New Year’s Eve.

I’m sure you know where this is going, but I was pregnant all of last holiday season. And the one before that. But thankfully not the one before that. You see, I had two kids back to back because I figured””hey, why not?””and that’s what I call family planning.

Because of that, I was pregnant for two, count them two, New Year’s Eves in a row, which is as close to tragedy as you can get in my book. This year, there’s nothing in my womb holding me back from ringing in the New Year. And I have a 10 point checklist that I’m going to use to make sure I grab New Year’s Eve by the balls and make it my bitch””the way holidays were meant to be enjoyed.

1.    Finally learn to twerk.

I don’t know what it is about twerking, but I really, really want to learn how to do it. This New Year’s Eve, I’m going to­””wait for it””come in like a wrecking ball and finally learn to twerk while I’m at it. Sure, it may mean that I end up with a creepy, leering tongue hanging out of my mouth twerking against some guy in a Beetlejuice costume, but it’s New Year’s Eve. Throw me a bone, or at least a foam finger.

2.    Bring back planking.

Another trend that I really, really don’t want to let die is good ole planking. It’s one of my favorite things ever because it makes absolutely no sense. And I also like trying to explain it to the older generation because they’re like, “So what are you supposed to do now? Sit there like a plank? What does it mean?” Bonus, planking is also conducive to New Year’s Eve because you can easily lie down while drunk.

3.    Bring back fist pumping.

I’m not going to pretend that I wasn’t a closet Jersey Shore fan, so I might as well lay my cards on the table. I thought fist pumping was a fun trend, and I was sad to see it go. I can’t think of a more perfect “Situation” to bring back Guido-style celebrating than among friends and family as you count down to midnight.

4.    Learn the cowbell.

I’ve been meaning to do this ever since I got a fever”¦ and discovered that the only prescription was MORE COWBELL. But seriously though, New Year’s Eve is the right time and place to carry around a cowbell and annoy all of your friends. Extra points if someone actually puts on “Don’t Fear the Reaper.”

5.    Dance to Thriller.

What is New Year’s Eve without a flash-mob-style-dance complete with zombie dance moves to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”? Funny story, this one time I was dancing to “Thriller” at a party, and I was doing the full dance complete with the overhead clap, and I shouted to a friend something along the lines of, “I’VE GOT THE CLAP DOWN!” But suddenly the music stopped, sitcom style, and I ended up screaming out, “I’VE GOT THE CLAP!” to a crowded room. This really happened.

6.    Play Edward 40 hands.

This is one of my favorite drinking games that involves taping a 40 to both hands, meaning you have to successfully ingest at least 40 ounces of cheap beer before you can get a hand free to go to the bathroom. If you’re pregnant, you can still play this game with water since we all know how important it is to hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.

7.    Rap to Shoop.

I happen to know all the lyrics to “Shoop” by Salt-n-Pepa, and when the occasion presents itself, I’ve been known to bust a rhyme or two””with or without the karaoke stage.

8.    Make BFFs with strangers.

Another true story, my husband and I were seated with total strangers at a New Year’s Eve dinner a few years ago. Fast-forward a few hours into an open bar later, and we were all hugging and chanting, “Table 12 fo life!”

 9.    Fall down.

A drunken night of debauchery wouldn’t be complete without a good face plant. It’s probably going to happen. Don’t try to fight it.

10. Not watch the ball drop.

There is no better way to end the perfect New Year’s Eve than to get too drunk to remember to watch the ball drop. I do it every year without fail. Sorry to disappoint, Dick Clark, or Carson Daly, or whoever is manning the ball this year.

(photo: Getty Images)