I hate New Year’s Eve.
Everyone is all “It’s gonna be so fun!” You know what it never is? Fun. It’s always the worst. Someone’s always too drunk. Someone’s always crying. There is never anyone to kiss at midnight and then you just have to stand around and stare at your single friends hoping one of your guy friends isn’t the one that’s too drunk so he won’t try to kiss you.
And then everyone is all “Let’s dress up!” So then you’re stuck in some sparkly ensemble wearing five inch heels freezing your butt off in some dive bar or in someone you’ve never met’s condo.
And then everyone is all “Champagne! We’re celebrating!” You know what champagne does to me? It makes me sleepy and have the hiccups. Also what in the hell are we celebrating? That we’re alive? Too existential for me.
It’s gonna take a hell of a lot to get me to do any of these things this new year’s. I’ve learned my lesson.
This is what I wrote last year around this time with my thoughts on new year’s eve. These thoughts all still stand. Only this time I really did learn my lesson. Last year’s was the worst.
Jordan and I have been discussing this year’s new year’s eve. We mentioned staying home and drinking all the things and building legos and putting together a puzzle. I think this sounds awesome. My married friend told me we were ‘old’ and I don’t even care. At least I know it actually will be so much fun.
