I am looking for at least five souls who are willing to grant me some sort of dispensation by which I may happily skip New Year’s Eve “festivities.”
This is not, truth be told, a departure from my usual celebration: keeping my eyes open until it’s midnight is crazy revelry for this gal. I’ve just never gone out for New Year’s. And I am pretty sure that I mean NEVER. I have been to gatherings at other people’s homes and all, but even that is quite out there. Fancy pantsing it up? The years have come and gone, with nary a square inch of gold lamé adorning my frame. And, yeah, there’s a reason that word makes you want to pronounce it “lame.”
I am not even going to buy bubbly this year! *GASP* I have come to terms with the fact that champagne makes my tummy hurt. I will have a nice glass of wine, and I am planning on making some non-traditional soup and maybe some popovers for dinner. Perhaps we will break out one of the yet-unopened Christmas games.
Remember Dick Clark and New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, year after year after year? Me too. That’s pretty much my perception of New Year’s Eve for me, and that was never really all THAT cool anyway. The hottest acts were usually one-hit wonders—and super articulate “wooooo”ers, That hasn’t changed much. You KNOW Donna Summer was Miss New Year’s Disco ball back in the day. That was bad then, and it’s bad now. It was uncomfortably inspiring, I suppose, to watch Dick in the last few years, valiantly speaking when I imagine he might have appreciated someone giving him permission to sit the damn thing out.
Only now we have to endure Dick’s mini-me, Ryan Seacrest! Why he hasn’t changed his name to “Dick” by now, one can only guess. Who do we get to interview this year? Miley Cyrus and Robin Thicke are my psychic predictions and I swear that I have not checked! Ringing them out might not be a bad idea though. . .
It’s almost enough to get one to go out to a party. Almost. But that would go against my staycation vibe, and ain’t no one messing with that!
It’s okay, really, if you can’t get around to joining my five-squad of permission givers—I know that you are doing your make-up and yanking on your shapewear while I kick back in my winter uniform of slippers, yoga pants, and warm sweater. If I don’t get five live ones, I will get the nutcrackers on my side.
Also, Happy New Year.