Nude Year's Resolution

Like any God-fearing man, Omar Bricks is careful to make a New Year's Resolution every year. Not that I'm all that religious, at least not since being banned from church for impersonating the Pope at a bake sale years ago. But the way I see it, it's best to stay on God's good side, in case he exists. So every year I resolve something.

One year it was to make a shitload of money. The next year it was to quit gambling and get out of debt, not to mention getting the mob off my back. Another year I resolved to be a Big Brother to some underprivileged kid, until I found out that was a different thing than living in a house with a bunch of hot bimbos and everything you do is on TV. One year I resolved to only eat things I like, but a few days later I accidentally ate at a White Castle when I was piss drunk, so that didn't last too long. Most of the resolutions don't turn out so well, to be perfectly honest, except for the year I resolved to quit smoking. I'd never smoked before, but I still went the whole year without starting up the habit. So I think that counts.

This year I've resolved to spend more time naked. This may seem similar to last year's resolution, which was to see Salma Hayek naked, but I figure it's different enough to qualify. After you die, they stuff you in some ridiculous monkey suit in a box for all of eternity; so really, you have to take advantage of your available naked time while you can. The way I look at it, I've already wasted too many of my prime naked years. Conservative parents, misguided high school teachers and small-minded local cops have kept this bod under wraps for far too long.

I realize this is a big resolution, bigger than most, so I've been making some dry runs at it these last few weeks that have been going pretty well. People are generally pretty cool about you being naked at the health club, though I did get some dirty looks on the treadmill. Most likely jealously, since most people can't run that fast when they're naked. It's a little trick I picked up while I was on vacation in Norway one year. I was taking a shower on the plane and the fuckers landed and cleared out all the luggage while I was in the bathroom. Granted, I was in there a while, but I'm not the one that designed those things so crazy, putting a toilet and trash can and all that shit in the shower. The least they could do would be to put a showerhead in there that's higher than nutsack level, it's not like that many midgets fly coach.

So I get out of the shower and all my bags with my clothes in them are gone, and there's just some cleaning lady on the plane who looks at me like she's never seen that much naked man before. As a matter of fact, I don't think the city of Oslo had ever seen that much naked man before, but I managed to sprint to a clothes store without too much incident and it was pretty cool to feel like I was in the movie Terminator with the Norwegian audio track on.

Other places are not so cool with you being naked, or at least they're able to make their disapproval heard in English. Toys 'R Us is downright fascist about not having any naked guys running around in their stores. I could understand them not wanting any naked little kids running around who don't know a Gamecube from a training toilet, but it's not like nudity is contagious. All they need is some cardboard sign of a naked giraffe saying you've got to be this tall to be naked in the store, problem solved.

Most restaurants are pretty weird about nudity, too. Maybe it's because they don't think you'll be able to pay if you don't have any obvious place to carry a wallet, I don't know. They might have been worried I was going to ass up the booth but if that's all it was I would have been more than happy to sit on a napkin or one of those toilet-seat horseshoes or something. Let that be a lesson, people, sometimes it pays just to ask.

To me, the weirdest nudity policy has got to be at the community swimming pool. It's like these people don't think the water is going to find a way to sneak around their bathing suits and touch all their junk anyway, they want to string me up for cutting out the middleman. I'm not sure why swimming and hypocrisy go hand in hand, but they do.

I think the success of my 2003 resolution is going to depend mainly on finding naked-friendly places and spending lots of time there. Thankfully the commune offices revoked their dress code long ago, after Ramrod Hurley sued over Lil Duncan not being able to wear things from the slutty end of her wardrobe. Which if you ask me is both ends and the middle, but that's not my business. Right now my business revolves squarely around finding some kind of fuzzy ass-friendly cover for this office chair, because this vinyl clings like a motherfucker.

Wish me luck, and warm weather. Bricks Out.

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