Jesus Christ, what are you doing for New Year's Eve?
Brock and I are making a list of things we want. So far, we've got:
1. Dressing Up.
2. Me not feeling like an easily annoyed loser for being sober.
3. Fancy food and cloth napkins.
4. Non-awkward midnight make-out moment.
I feel like every New Year's Eve, I wait until the last minute like some magical and perfect offer from George Clooney will appear, inviting to fly me and all of my friends to his fabulous party in the Hollywood Hills where George and I will light the world on fire with our chemistry/I will find someone to talk to who knew Sharon Tate.
Why is that so hard?
As for my constant companions, some are blatantly ignoring my inquiries as to what we're doing while others speak of vague parties we may or may not feel like going to. The part of me that is my mother, the part that requires a printed itinerary and guest list, is going nuts. The part of me that hates pushing my way through scantily clad hos to get an eyeroll when I order a Shirley Temple is giving up.
What are you folks doing? And if it involves any or all of the above, can you please add me to the list...