A lizard will never change his spots, or something like that.

By Paget Pizitz

might be a lizard

I’m willing to bet the cat stroller I bought Louis for Hanukkah (you didn’t think that cats could be of the Jewish persuasion?) that I started out this column last year by wishing you a Happy New Year. As my creativity seems to have decreased with each passing year and each passing cocktail, I’ll tell you what you are expecting; Happy New Year. If you met 2012 covered in Jello shots with your underwear on the outside of your pants cuffed to a Slovenian woman named Darinka, cheers to you. Your life seems right on track. Or, if you spent the last few minutes of 2011 alone watching Rick Moranis movies, congratulations, 2012 is only going to get better.

I assume many of you are pondering your New Year’s resolution. I can assure you that I am not. The last time I made a resolution, I was served some “papers” that required a notary. I would talk about it, but the confidentiality agreement prevents me from doing so. This year, I say to hell with your resolutions. They only set you up for disaster and make you feel like a failure months later. Plus, the crowds of slow folks at my gym in January make workouts a nightmare. Just keep eating your cookies, munching your hot pockets, drinking your booze and saying “shit” in front of your Mormon coworker. As a result, your life will probably be better in the years to come.

On that note, I have some advice to dispense. A lizard will never change its spots. I know that’s not quite the saying, but my sweet mother used to tell me that, and I didn’t have the heart to correct her. Because I am slowly morphing into her with each passing year, I know what she means. If you meet someone and your first thought is how this person would be perfect if you could only change a few things, you may be setting yourself up for failure. If you think he or she may be a few New Year’s resolutions away from being your soul mate, reconsider.

You cannot continually ask someone to change who they are in order to be with you. Constructive criticism is typically just for the speaker. We change because WE discover that something is wrong and we want to make it right. This is why all “constructive” criticism—as truthful and well-intended as it might be—comes across as destructive. If you meet a man who has been jobless since Alf was in prime time but says it isn’t his fault, you may want to move on. If you think you can change Miss Right’s problem drinking into a social cocktail, good luck to you. If your new beau has had a cold since 1992 and swears he isn’t lazy, reconsider. Don’t think any New Year’s resolution is going to change a lizard into a leopard, unless of course you are a certified black magic spell-caster and, in that case, carry on with your bad self.

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