It�s New Year�s Eve again, folks, and you know what that means! That�s right: it means�um�something. Shit, you guys are the ones who know what it means, don�t make me spell it out for you.
Anyway, after much ado, I finally have plans for tonight! In a loose sense of the word. I mean, really, the plan (such as it is) is call the bar, find out what the cover is, forget the bar, and drink at home with friends. Or friend, singular, as the case may be. It�s pretty much going to be me and Pussy Galore, much as it was on New Year�s Eve of �99/�00, and then of course, Pussy Galore�s current flame. Who, I think, she has bullied into being the DD, should it come to that.
It might be a little sad that this is all my New Year�s Eve celebratory plans amount to, but whatever. I�ve never been to an actual New Year�s Eve party, if I�m going to be honest. In 25 years of living, that may seem strange to y�all, but it�s true. At least this year I�ll be celebrating and shit, as opposed to last year -- which was supposed The Year of Wicked Partying With the Cousins, but turned out to be The Year in Which All My Cousins Had Babies and Went to Bed at 10:00 -- so there�s an advancement right there, at least.
Looking back, I don�t know how to assess 2003, really. I mean, it was a year, like any other year, replete with the good and the bad (the ugly, too, but let�s not talk about the ugly). I like to think I grew a bit and got to know myself a little better, but it isn�t like I figured out how to spin straw into gold, thusly changing the trajectory of my life forever. Wouldn�t that be kinda cool, though? I mean, I�d love to be able to spin straw into gold. I don�t know how practical a skill that is, but I�m sure I could at least get more job interviews if my employer thinks I might be able to spontaneously fill the company coffers through alchemy.
Like that would ever happen. If I could spin straw into gold, I�d be keeping that shit for myself. Fuck the company. Fuck my boss, too, if he thinks I�m his whore or something, and he can just make me spin some gold for his ass! Who does he think he is, anyway? What the fuck has he ever done for me that I�m going to suddenly start turning him into a damn millionaire with my mystical straw-into-gold spinning abilities? What a son of a bitch. That�s it, he�s not even getting a Christmas card next year. Like I sent him one this year. Come to think of it, like I sent any Christmas cards this year. Or any other. I�m just bad with cards.
In any case, 2003 is all but gone, now. I�d like to think that 2004 will bring better in all things, but I know that�s kind of na�vely optimistic. Certainly great things have the potential to happen in the next twelve months, but if time has proven anything, it�s that life is full of equal opportunities for good and bad alike. I imagine the next year will find me writing plenty of happy entries, as well as unhappy ones. That�s life, really.
I�ll be getting a year older, which I guess I can count on. Hopefully I�ll be getting my damn car back, too. I don�t know. This entry was supposed to be a trifle more focused and introspective than this, but it didn�t quite work out that way. So, to make up for it, here is a haiku for 2003:
Year that was is gone.
New year begins tomorrow
With a hangover.Someone Got Here By Searching For: (fuzzy butterfly chairs) And: catherine zeta �in la� I�m Listening To: Rufus Wainwright�s Want One, and it�s fantastic. I�m Drinking: Tonight, probably a Cacao Royale.