So. It's New Year's Eve again. Damn, I swear this holiday hits far too often. I mean, I love the Fromage specials, and the 'Top 200 Videos of the 2000s' possibly more than the next girl- I'm a trivia junkie (As was made completely evident when I swept, tromped, and triumphed over the rest of the Baileys in 4 consecutive games of Scene It...). But I sort of hate the "BEST PARTY EVER!" mindset that so many fall for.
Look. It's near impossible to get a taxi. It's January, therefore, strappy sexy shoes and bare legs are a bad call. My favourite brunch places are likely to be closed tomorrow morning. Drinks are three times as much as they are any other night. Cover charges, which I generally refuse to pay, are inevitable.
The last time I went out to a bar on NYE, I woke up the next morning half dressed, in my living room, and found that I had somehow decided to make a peanut butter sandwich in the shower, which resulted in pb AND j smeared all over the tub and bathroom sink. Yikes. In previous years, I've broken high heels, stood in freezing cold wintery storms, and upchucked under a sofa and priceless antique silk quilt.
Last year, I spent the eve playing drinking games and eating fondue in Saskatoon with friends. This year, I'm spending the eve with more different friends, at what will likely be a fun but low-key party in a hotel suite rented to celebrate Kev's birthday. I'm excited, but not more excited than I am on any other weekend evening through the year...which I feel is the perfect set-up for a fun, stress-and-expectations free evening.
And I mean, if all else fails, I'll just get all kissyface with...myself?
Puffed Wheat Squares
2 days ago