New Year’s Eve is the time for new beginnings. It’s the time to start fresh and forget about your mistakes. It’s the time to get your shit together.

To do this, you make resolutions. Some of you plan to visit church and pray for renewed relationships with God. Others vow to make positive changes in your personal lives, like losing weight or conquering bad habits. And some of you promise to quit drinking… with a glass of wine in hand.

For about 24 hours, it’s all pretty inspiring. “This will be the year,” you say.  “It’ll actually happen this time. I’ll be a hero. I’ll motivate others. I’ll end up with my own show on the Oprah Network.”

Things look quite promising until the clock strikes midnight. Then it’s over. Hell breaks loose, and you all turn into party animals. All your inspirational goals, and sometimes even your underwear, are thrown out the window. You ring in the new year by getting drunk, destroying furniture, passing out on strangers’ beds, and ultimately waking up the next morning spooning a bearded woman named Helga.

None of it makes any sense. Why do you sabotage your lives with such bizarre behavior? Do you hate yourselves? Well, yeah, probably.

Regardless, you need to dig deeper and find some dignity. It’s not enough to just state a goal, you need to take it seriously and believe in yourself. Stop with the shenanigans. Remember, up above, I said it was time to get your shit together… not time to shit in a sweater.

If it helps, make a resolution about your resolutions. Do whatever it takes. Every year, you want a New Year’s Eve you’ll never forget, but then you drink so much you can’t remember it.

You’ve ruined such a great holiday, and it’s a damn shame. I love New Year’s Eve. It’s my guilty pleasure. Unlike Christmas (a holiday that forces me to celebrate with relatives), New Year’s Eve is a chance to celebrate with people I actually enjoy celebrating with.

But the traditions aren’t helping either. Some of these rituals are truly bizarre. Like, why must we beat the crap out of pots and pans, witness trauma-inducing explosions in the sky, and gawk as a giant ball descends?

Seriously. We are watching balls drop. I mean, I understand that we’re celebrating age and maturity, but do we really need a literal representation of puberty?

Even though I’ve lost faith in humanity, I still plan on making my own New Year’s resolution. Or, well, I did… but then I thought, “Why tamper with perfection?” For now, I’ll just wish you all a safe night out. I hope you remember me in the morning.