We’ve never really celebrated New Year’s-at least, not like they do on tv. I have always romanticized what it would be like to be in Times Square watching the ball drop, bundled up in a very stylish white winter coat, with my one and only.
One of my favorite New Year’s memory was the night the phone book burned. Why do phone book companies insist on not only forcing me to take their phone books-but also leave a total of 4 books on my two front porches? I had had enough of the phone company’s shenanigans.
So, a few years ago, my little brother, his wife, my dad, Biceps and I loaded up into their tiny white car and drove to a vacant lot. We sacrificed one phone book by lighting it on fire. We then drove in circles around the phone book as we watched it burn, screaming and hanging out the windows until the fire was out.
Beat that Times Square.
And many years ago, after spending hours putting on the tire chains, my sweet father loaded us kids up in the wagon-just so we could drive into town to attend a church friend’s party. It took us at least an hour to go a couple of miles, but we sang songs the whole way and still made it in time to eat way too much candy and be sick and miserable the next day.
I call this the year of the “Candy Hangover”.
And last but not least, Bicep’s band was hired to play a New Year’s show one year while we were out on tour. It was for a lock-in at a large church-complete with awkward teenage flirting, pizza and nerf guns. They paid us well, so we couldn’t turn it down.
But as the world wore sequined dresses, tuxedos and drank champagne-I was watching my hubby on stage, as he entertained screaming pubescent fans. I enjoyed my orange Fanta from a red plastic cup off to the side, knowing cold pizza awaited me for dinner.
And I loved it.
So, while the rest of the world is getting krunk and doing things tonight they’ll regret tomorrow…Biceps and I will attend a small party and then come home to our two kitties, our fireplace and our pj’s.
Call me lame, but this is how I party hard. And, I don’t wake up the next day with a hangover or regrets. Unless it’s a “candy hangover”…and then yes, I am guilty of such actions.