2007-01-01

New Year's. Bah.

I made a very conscious decision to stay put for New Year's Eve. For years, I HAD to be doing something on "amateur night," even after I'd quit drinking. I HAD to be somewhere, even though I'd invariably have a miserable time and would swear every New Year's Day that I would stay the fuck home next time and spare myself the misery of forced festivity.

I have a quite terrible track record with New Year's Eve. There was the year I went to First Night (1985) and was followed down a considerable length of Boylston Street by a man who was trying (semi-successfully) to sustain an erection in the just-around-freezing temperatures. Another December 31st (1988) found me in a tiny motel room in Norwell, Massachusetts, drinking lukewarm screwdrivers out of styrofoam cups with a handful of girls I'd sort of known in high school. And on still another (1994) I was stood up by my then-boyfriend who claimed to have "fallen asleep." Those are some of the more ouch-inducing lowlights. New Year's Eve has never been one of my favorite nights.

I was going to spend this Night of Nights at home if it killed me. My cousin Kenny called at around 7 to see what I was up to, and was quite shocked and disappointed that I - the "crazy" twig on our already plenty-buncha-insane family tree - had no plans other than to polish off the better part of a bag of peanut butter cookies while watching the "Stooge-a-Thon" on Channel 38. He cajoled, he semi-pleaded, he tried to guilt me into some kind of outing by calling me "old" (and Kenny himself is a good 8 years older than I am), but I stood my ground, by Jesus fuck. I was in my pajamas and I was NOT going out.

I did it. I watched the Stooges, finished the Brian Wilson biography I'd picked up at the library, dozed off on the sofa -- waking up just in time to see the stupid ball drop, and then mumbled to the houseboy: "Happy New Year. I'm goin' tuh BED."

It was awesome.

lisamcc at 12:42 p.m.

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