2003-12-31

Well, it’s happened again – my plans for a quiet and uneventful New Year’s Eve have been hijacked. My intentions of ringing in 2004 from the tranquil vantage point of my living room were torpedoed by a sneaky last-minute party invite. I even made feeble motions towards turning it down, until the words “open bar” crumbled my resolve like so much stale fruitcake. I’m paying forty bucks to get in, but all drinks are included in the cover, which is alarming to say the least – I’ll feel obligated to drink my money’s worth, and I can consume forty dollars’ worth of crap beer quicker than you can say, “Who’s the topless chick puking off the balcony?”

Rumour has it that this party will be populated by, and I quote, “hot frat guys.” Well, aren’t I the lucky girl! I’m sure I won’t be a target of their leering attentions, but perhaps I’ll order a Rufes cocktail right off the bat just to save effort. With any luck, this evening will be another New Year’s Eve to remember, if only I could remember it. Tune in tomorrow, when our hero will be inarticulately praying for death.

Happy New Year, my dears.