Last week I finally reached my breaking point and was ready to give up future children in return for a haircut. I thought it would be cool to go get some euro-chic Norwegian do, but the 550 Kroner price tag was a bit out of my budget. And waiting out the 14 days with my mental institute hair, before heading home for a proper cut, did not cross my mind as a legitimate or tolerable option.

So I bought a pair of 40 Kroner scissors, waited for one of my dillusional states to hit, and went all Edward Scissorhands in the hotel bathroom. Because this somehow seemed like a much less perilous option.

And I gotta say, definately not my worst haircut ever. (That prize goes to a mid-80s attempt at punk-style spiked bangs. Followed closely by the grade two rat tail.)

10 years of post-secondary education for journalism and aviation, and all this time I've secretly been denying the Vidal Sassoon in me.

Today we ran into the Norwegian equivalent of Canadian Tire to grab some acetone and some obscenely oversized wrenches.

My first question ... what bolt is this wrench endeavouring to tighten? All I can picture is some construction worker building a skyscraper ... "Hey Bjorn, the building's leaning a little to the left - can you check to see if that big bolt that holds it together is tight?"

My second question ... why exactly does this local Norwegian hardware store feel it is absolutely necessary to keep obscenely oversized wrenches in stock for immediate customer possession? "Haarvgard, it is essential that we sell 20cm wrenches. What if the bolts on new skyscraper in Hunderfossen come loose?"

My final question ... who the hell is buying this? "Oh, yeah, Snergen, it's loose, but I don't have the right wrench in my toolbox. I was going to pick one up when I stopped at Oppbevaringsekers on the way home from work to get a plug for the kitchen sink and some Christmas wrapping paper. I'm sure they'll have one in stock. "

So, it's only taken 32.5 years, but I have finally had my first official celebrity sighting. Well, if you don't count that one time I saw Jean Charest at the airport. And that was only after my dad pointed him out. And told me who he was.

So, last Saturday evening, I was out for a leisurely meal with two teammates at Joey's on Burrard, in Vancouver.

We are mid conversation, when Micaela's attention starts waning, and she begins whispering to Hadley. I immediately suspect the topic is hot guys in the near vicinity. So I prompt her. But it turns out that the distraction was way more interesting to me than some city metrosexual with a fauxhawke wearing Gap.

"I think there is someone famous sitting behind us."

So, I lean slightly to my right and I'll be damned if she isn't totally right. And I'll be even more damned if it's actually someone I recognize.

So, it's official. My very first qualifying (i.e. firstly, someone you actually recognize on first glance without a shadow of a doubt as to their identity, and second, someone who, given the appropriate circumstances, you would probably consent to making out with based solely on their VIP status) celebrity spotting. Drum roll please ...

I know! Can you even believe it?!? It's almost like I was having dinner with him! I knew exactly who he was the minute I peaked over Hadley's shoulder! No, of course I didn't go over and ask for an autograph, that's just tacky.Yes. I did force Micaela and Hadley to shameless pretend to pose for a picture, leaving an appropriate amount of space in between themselves to accomodate his preeminent grandeur. Wait, what? You don't have a clue who is sitting there in the booth behind us? Because the photo is taken with a CRAPPY iPHONE 3 CAMERA THAT IS RIDICULOUSLY UNDERPOWERED GIVEN THE TECHNOLOGICAL CAPABILITIES OF THE YEAR IT WAS RELEASED and is too dark and blurry?

Well, wait, the photo's not that bad actually, just let me zoom in ...

See!?! It's none other than the charming Irish likes of one Liam Neeson! Seriously, how can you beat that for your first official celebrity citing? The guy is Schindler, Rob Roy, Valjean, Batman's teacher, Obi-Wan's master, the voice of Aslan. Aslan! I mean, I essentially saw God sitting in the booth in front of me at Joey's on Burrard.

Man. Maybe I should have asked for an autograph. Or at least an asnwer to the question "What's the point of it all?"

Despite being an athlete for most of my life, and being well-versed in goal setting and the S.M.A.R.T. method, my New Year's resolutions always seem to end up being really general, extensive, intangible, all encompassing, and, as such, completely daunting, overwhelming, and ... unresolved.

So, here are 10 specific, measurable, attainable, realistic and timely things I'd like to accomplish this year. And one completely vague, immeasurable, intangible, idealistic and never-ending aspiration.

1. Post 52 blog entries.
2. Do 10 chin ups. In a row.
3. Make one collage.
4. Convert my U.S. flight instructor rating to a Canadian licence.
5. Complete my wedding photo album.
6. Read 12 books, including Atlas Shrugged, The Brothers Karamonov, David Copperfield, Crime and Punishment, The Gulag Archipelago, and the Lord of the Rings.
7. Grow my design business by keeping established working hours.
8. Simplify. Operation Desert Stuff.
9. Consume for the entire year according to my frugal philosophy.
10. Practice yoga at least once per week.
11. Be. Practice daily and concertedly to be myself, be self-assured, be in the moment and be okay with it.

The deviant resolution is obviously number 8.

Nothing says Happy New Year like a holiday beer-can turkey in an suggestive position.

Well. Except maybe my brother with a gherkin up his nose.

What? You act like you are surprised or something. Ummmm ... have you met me? Then just imagine me times six at a Bartleman Family gathering, and the photo above makes perfect sense.

Fine. Here's a wholesome, family-friendly New Year's Day dinner photo to help you get the gherkin image out of your head.

Totally didn't work, did it? At least you didn't have to see it live. More than once.

Here's to sunnier days and lighter rains in the coming year ... Happy New Year!