At Least You Still Have Your Health: 2008
2008, you and I were going to be friends. We were happy together! I spent the year working at a job that I love, achieving some level of competence at aerials, posing for paintings, surrounding myself with wit and wisdom, in hopes that some of it might rub off on me. But you had to turn mean on me, 2008. Just when I was getting nice and comfortable, you had to sucker punch me. First you tried to kill my cat. Now you're trying to kill my father. We are through, 2008. The calendar has turned and you have no power over me. My cat's fur is growing back and my father is being downgraded from intensive care to the regular ol' not-dying-immediately part of the hospital. I'm with 2009 now and 2009 had better be good to me.
I'm not a big fan of the Year In Review. I'm just glad to have made it out of 2008 in one piece. I'm glad that someone else decided to throw the New Year's Eve party so that I could wake up in the middle of the afternoon on January 1st to a house that does not smell like stale beer. I am glad that J took photos in which I looked fabulous. I was happy to have seen the fireworks, even if they were mostly blocked by that new hotel that looks like it was designed by Apple. I was happy to have completely missed the bit where some girl vomited on E's lap - indeed it was an enormous relief, because I have angered the Gods of Vomit and you can be sure that if there is vomit, I will somehow be exposed to it. I consumed pleasant drinks and tasty cheese. I saved Dr. S from a man in a sparkly red shirt. I told what I hoped were funny stories about the hospital - the floor chaplain has not, as it turns out, accepted Odin as her personal savior - and cheered H as she did many, many pull-ups. Around six o'clock in the morning, I think I may have fallen asleep draped across the bartender.
Tonight I will dress up as an Eastern European Tribal Gypsy Circus Punk and dance on a box. There are worse ways to start the year. And I still have my health.
I'm not a big fan of the Year In Review. I'm just glad to have made it out of 2008 in one piece. I'm glad that someone else decided to throw the New Year's Eve party so that I could wake up in the middle of the afternoon on January 1st to a house that does not smell like stale beer. I am glad that J took photos in which I looked fabulous. I was happy to have seen the fireworks, even if they were mostly blocked by that new hotel that looks like it was designed by Apple. I was happy to have completely missed the bit where some girl vomited on E's lap - indeed it was an enormous relief, because I have angered the Gods of Vomit and you can be sure that if there is vomit, I will somehow be exposed to it. I consumed pleasant drinks and tasty cheese. I saved Dr. S from a man in a sparkly red shirt. I told what I hoped were funny stories about the hospital - the floor chaplain has not, as it turns out, accepted Odin as her personal savior - and cheered H as she did many, many pull-ups. Around six o'clock in the morning, I think I may have fallen asleep draped across the bartender.
Tonight I will dress up as an Eastern European Tribal Gypsy Circus Punk and dance on a box. There are worse ways to start the year. And I still have my health.