New Year’s Eve, or the holiday with the highest expectations and most exuberant letdowns, is upon us once again. For the first time, maybe ever, I’m excited about our plans for the night. I peer pressured some of our besties, Nick and Sarah, to host a party at their house, which is conveniently located down the street. Because fuck going to a bar on NYE.
I realize now what New Year’s Eve is and is not about. It’s not about where you go, it’s about who you’re with and, more importantly, what you wear. Last year, I had a case of the gastroenteritis out the a-hole (literally); I got all dressed up in my sequin mini dress + Louboutins, had a quick barf before leaving the house, paid the $10 cover to get into a shady bar where I immediately begged to go home because I needed to vom again. It took every ounce of concentration not to be sick all over the back seat of the Lyft car. Without getting into the dirty details (like the color of all of this vomit, which was a weird shade of yellow) I will tell you that the moral of the story is this: I was happy to ring in the new year with the love of my life even though it was spent on the bathroom floor and I couldn’t actually see Joel because he was standing behind me, holding back my hair, but I knew he was there. That my friends, is a great New Year’s! I lost, like, 3 pounds.
Another necessity for NYE is sequins. Or something sparkly. I want to shine like the top of the freaking Chrysler building. I want to literally stop traffic. I want to… ah shit, I ran out of shiny metaphors.
So whether you’re going out and dancing the night away or staying in and drinking your sorrows, I hope you have a happy and safe New Year! Let’s make 2015 our bitch.