New Year's Eve at home? That's...*snicker*...very sad
I just can't stop gurgling and bubbling over the non-stop fun and frolic I'm going to experience tonight! After I depart from the office, I've got my New Year's Eve agenda all planned:
1) Drive the Leafman-mobile home
2) Walk into my slovenly slobbish apartment
3) Do my laundry
4) Scrub the bathroom (which has needed it since September)
5) Clean the kitchen (which has needed it since July)
6) Clean and vacuum the living room
7) Try to stay awake until midnight, then crack open a Foster's when that witching hour strikes (it's saintrobert's favorite beer, y'know
)
Yep, I'm going solo on New Year's Eve. No parties. No friends. No kidding.
Obviously, I'm typing all this in because I want you to pity me. Can't you tell that I'm overcome by a wave of nauseous, all-consuming melancholia? Isn't it obvious that I'm the asocial lame-o freakmonger? I mean, a resident of Las Vegas spending New Year's Eve at home? Whoever heard of such a thing?
Let me show you how sad I feel about doing this:
Heheheh. Since I've made it down to the main strip on New Year's Eve every year since I moved here (beginning with the millennium), I've been that -- done there (or whatever the expression is). I've partied with my friends along with all the crazies, and I've gotten ripped with the best of them every year. So, WTF shall I gain by doing it again?
If you've followed the headlines, you know that Vegas is going to be crawling with the national guard, the militia paranoia units, the mafia and who knows who else down on the main strip. I'm not going to be crying in my soup about avoiding the place like a social disease.
If Mike, Brandon or Jeff were to have called me to join any one or all of them at a local watering hole, I might have entertained such a great notion. But the first two are likely conflicted by their tireless work schedules and Jeff is going to a party with his lady love.
I did talk to Ron on the phone last night, who suggested maybe I could tag along with him to check out a band tonight at the Crown & Anchor ($10 cover), but the idea holds little in the way of titillation gratification for me. I prefer to "kick it" at the homestead.
New Year's Eve. Alone. At home. Fine with you? If not, I shan't care all that much. It's fine with me. So THERE!
1) Drive the Leafman-mobile home
2) Walk into my slovenly slobbish apartment
3) Do my laundry
4) Scrub the bathroom (which has needed it since September)
5) Clean the kitchen (which has needed it since July)
6) Clean and vacuum the living room
7) Try to stay awake until midnight, then crack open a Foster's when that witching hour strikes (it's saintrobert's favorite beer, y'know
)
Yep, I'm going solo on New Year's Eve. No parties. No friends. No kidding.
Obviously, I'm typing all this in because I want you to pity me. Can't you tell that I'm overcome by a wave of nauseous, all-consuming melancholia? Isn't it obvious that I'm the asocial lame-o freakmonger? I mean, a resident of Las Vegas spending New Year's Eve at home? Whoever heard of such a thing?
Let me show you how sad I feel about doing this:
Heheheh. Since I've made it down to the main strip on New Year's Eve every year since I moved here (beginning with the millennium), I've been that -- done there (or whatever the expression is). I've partied with my friends along with all the crazies, and I've gotten ripped with the best of them every year. So, WTF shall I gain by doing it again?
If you've followed the headlines, you know that Vegas is going to be crawling with the national guard, the militia paranoia units, the mafia and who knows who else down on the main strip. I'm not going to be crying in my soup about avoiding the place like a social disease.
If Mike, Brandon or Jeff were to have called me to join any one or all of them at a local watering hole, I might have entertained such a great notion. But the first two are likely conflicted by their tireless work schedules and Jeff is going to a party with his lady love.
I did talk to Ron on the phone last night, who suggested maybe I could tag along with him to check out a band tonight at the Crown & Anchor ($10 cover), but the idea holds little in the way of titillation gratification for me. I prefer to "kick it" at the homestead.
New Year's Eve. Alone. At home. Fine with you? If not, I shan't care all that much. It's fine with me. So THERE!