The realization came to me in the waning moments of last year while I stood on a dead-end street at the back of Palolo Valley.

All around the New Year's Eve party where I was, chaos reached for a crescendo. Exploding firecrackers roared like a machine gun from a nearby home while illegal aerial missiles blew up overhead. The smell of sulfur filled my nostrils. I clipped the end of a cigar and lit up.

To hell with good behavior, I thought. A man needs a vice. Maybe two. A man needs to misbehave, to occasionally howl into the night, to swear and belch after a good meal.

To give life the finger.

Giving life a peck on the cheek for all these years has been a colossal waste of time. It's like getting nothing but a handshake at last call.

I could drop dead tomorrow, so screw it. In 2009, I plan to kiss life on the mouth.

I am going to work out more, but not because it's healthy. I want to because feeling strong feels good. As long as the cartilage in my knee lasts — and my prescription for painkillers can be renewed — try and catch me.

I am going to eat red meat off the grill without apologies to Bambi lovers; drink better liquor, like some of that expensive tequila I had last spring; and savor a good smoke from time to time.

I am going to dress as well as I can, but given the cost of Tori Richard aloha shirts, on some days, I just might decide that a clean, comfortable T-shirt is a decent uniform.

And get used to the 5 o'clock shadow. Only Mrs. G. gets the smooth cheeks on a regular basis.

I am going to do what every man thinks about doing: I am going to wink and flirt and look at beautiful women because in the end, it's all harmless as long as you go home for dessert.

And besides, I happen to think that beautiful women not only deserve affirmation, but they want it, too. Why else would women spend $150 for a haircut and styling? Or buy high heels that make them look so awesome?

There are plenty of people who will think this is disrespectful of Mrs. G. and my daughters, the Little Darlings. I don't expect them to understand our relationship but consider this: Even in my foulest mood, I'm alert to any discrimination that assaults them. I may be selfish, but I'm also their junkyard dog.

When the new year arrived, I let the cacophony wash over me like a baptism.

There are no guarantees that good behavior will deliver you to a better life, I thought. No reward for a man who plays it safe all the time.

So why not demand more from life? Why not take more?

Even through the smoke of midnight, I could see this clearly. As long as I didn't hurt anyone along the way, a few bad habits might do me some good.

Living well would be the best revenge.

Reach Mike Gordon at mgordon@honoluluadvertiser.com.