Tag Archives: kill me

Yup.

When receiving text messages at midnight with “Happy new Years!” I felt tempted to respond in the way I felt at the moment, in which case my text message response would look like this: “Yup.”

Now of course you can’t do that. You cant actually write yup.

It breaks all new years etiquette. It’s worse then ignoring the text message. In ignoring a text, you can blame your drunkenness and how you were so plastered you didn’t even have the ability to read a text, let alone write one out in return.

I would have just written a sweet and simple “Yup.” but that would incur the curiosity of every friend, and would have gotten me back text messages asking about the worst of possible scenarios. “Are you not drunk?” “Did you see someone from high school?” “What’s wrong?” or the more amusing “wzHatt Wringgiircll,566?” which could have made it all worth it, but I digress.

I’m sorry but this is just not my holiday and I’m tired of trying to make it be.

I know I know, you’d think New Years Eve would be my time to shine. “Doesn’t that blogger chick go out all the time? Isn’t she like always drunk?”

Yeah yeah I know, Bachlorette parties and New Years Eve, those SHOULD be my nights of reign and glory. Unfortunately it is because expectations are set so high for these nights, is perhaps why they fail.

I went out of my way this year to make this year not like last year. Last year where I woke up in a strange apartment with a Scottish guy, having ditched my coupled off friends and gotten plastered by 9:15pm. I don’t remember anywhere near midnight.

The year before had been no less delightful because my friends again were coupled off and not doing anything exciting so I went out with coworkers I don’t normally go out with, and stayed decidedly sober in attempts to escape the awkwardness after the ball dropped.

In my hopes to remember new years this year and be with people I knew, I was perfectly okay with dinner plans and a house party, which of course were canceled.

Myself, my friend and her boyfriend, and our friend and his spur of the moment date, all wound up on a party bus with fifteen strangers.

Yup.

So much for an evening of familiarity.

I can see everyone’s shaking of their heads at me. Is she complaining about a party bus? Lets be clear,I’m stag on a bus of strangers, we are hitting clubs downtown that have lines that wrap around buildings that wrap around building that wrap around buildings.

Within twenty minutes being on the bus my friends spur of the moment date was already spilling her orange drink on me, and I couldn’t even rock a buzz yet.

Our first stop was at a club we would never get into even if we had all day and night to wait, so we went into a pizza place, and then somehow I’m following strangers to liquor stores to buy cheaper booze, to pour under tables.

Yup.

When it is finally midnight we drive to a field that is the perfect place to watch the downtown fireworks. Midnight is announced and my friend and his spur of the moment date – lets call her Kathy how about – , who were in conversation with me seconds before, go in for their kiss and as I, being a bit surprised by the abruptness, stood there for several seconds too long.

After stepping back a few feet I looked at the progression and literally I kid you not a line had formed. On the sidewalk near our bus, practically single file, three and more couples were making out in such uniformity it was almost awesome.

Then some guy opened a champagne bottle and sprayed it at me.

Getting back on the bus it was then the shit show. Dear old Kathy had made out with my friend as well as another guy at midnight, such a lucky gal.

Her most recent kissing partner basically dry humped her until death in the back of that party bus. In many attempts to save her, she went back to him, until I’m almost sure he got her pregnant back there.

Awww they could name their baby New Years. Or 2014!

When getting off the bus our dear friend Kathy revealed that her little black dress had basically split all the way up to her bra. Her whole backside revealed changed all of our plans. I hailed a cab.

Her date, our friend, conveniently decided to stay out dancing with everyone, while my friend and her boyfriend, and myself got her into a cab and let her wish us Happy New Year every 2 minutes or just when there was a pause in conversation.

One thing I will say about the cab ride and ride back in my car, was that she was so plastered and it annoyed me, and also that it was sad.

She said once to me “I just didn’t want to remember tonight” and I so felt for her in that moment. Boobs falling out, platinum blonde bleached hair a mess, and a ripped dress, drunk and repeating the same sentence over and over.

It’s like looking at yourself.
Minus the boobs and blonde hair.

We pulled over for her to use a gas station restroom, which I had to guide her to, and I distinctly remember saying out loud to myself “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Which is hilarious because my whole goal for this New Years was that I wanted to drink less so I could actually remember getting to midnight!

I suppose I learned that there is nothing I can do to make this holiday better. If i get too drunk I miss out on the whole night. If I don’t drink enough then I have to actually put up with the whole night and remember how much I wanted the night to end as well as secretly fear that the girl we brought with us is going to get gang raped in the back of the bus and I didn’t do enough to stop it so I’ll go to jail and probably spend my remaining new Years hoping for new bed springs.

Even when I make deliberate efforts to spend the new years with people that I know, I still wind up helping strange drunk girls find the bathroom to puke.

Acceptance is everything. I accept that this holiday sucks, so next year I deem that Dec 31st shall be terrible once more, and in my low expectations I pray that the evening may rise to slightly tolerable.

Ahem excuse me

Oh, right. YYAAAYYYYYY!!! Whooopppppeee!!! 2014!!!

beer? chocolate milk?

No no I couldn’t. I don’t! I never do.

But…..

When you’ve reached a certain age and there aren’t as many men who share that age you are then almost forced to go down, in age.

I don’t know what other choice there is.

Let me just be clear, I hate younger guys.

Hmmmm that was harsh. Uh I don’t like to date them? Ever? If I can help it. But pretty much never. Dating some young hipster who is all sunshine and rainbows seems like my own personal hell. I have younger brothers and I think that says it all. I feel like when they are thirty years old, ill still be worried about all their seemingly terrible life decisions.

When I picture myself dating, talking to, texting, making out with, or looking with any interest what so ever at a man, I picture him older. Instead of me taking care of him I picture him taking care of me.

You can imagine my current confusion as suddenly I have found myself looking forward to going to work, so I can flirt with my young coworker who plays in a band.

He recently turned 21 and also recently turned up the physical contact we need to have as we go about our tasks. Obviously you have to gently touch my back as you walk behind me, why state that you’re behind me, like with words and stuff. I have to admit to you, I don’t hate it.

He is pretty damn beautiful and maybe I remind him of his older sister, but in a hot way?

I can feel everyone judging me even as I type this, and I know ok? A girl’s gotta have some stimulation though. What am I supposed to think about all day, my hopes and dreams?

There is (shamefully) another youngin that I can’t get out of my head. He is in that group of friends that er uhhh… OK he is one of my brothers friends.

I KNOW. Jesus.

He is adorable,hot, and hopefully 23. Pleeeeaaasseee be 23.

I think him and I have never had a full conversation, or been sober at the same time, and probably don’t know eachothers last names or occupations. Eh, still in.

Right now I’m appreciating this extremely shy stage that I’m in with him. You know the one where he says hi (or slurs hi) when you walk into the room and you say nothing back and pretend like he never spoke? Yeah I hear that tactic has a 2% success rate and yet I use it every weekend.

Haha see! you thought I was only awkward with older guys. Guess again!

Seriously though I feel the shame, I really do. Am I starved for attention so severely that I’m willing to take it in whatever age form, regardless of jail time?

I prefer to brainwash myself into looking at it like I’m trying new things. In comparison to old things…Get it?