Friday, January 01, 2010

oh boy, a whole new year...

It's always interesting to me how quickly these things end.
Christmas, New Years, my birthday is next.
I don't know why I expect extraordinary things on these high anticipation days, when really, the craziest, best, most amazing stuff happens without it being pre-printed on a desk calendar. Last year, I rung in 2009 violently ill in a Dublin hotel room. This year, I was ready to throw my hands up in the air and hunker down at home alone. None of my friends could really decide on a venue, people's plans kept changing, it all seemed like too much work. I got up yesterday and got all of my hair chopped off without knowing what my evening's plans would be.
With my folks out of town, I decided to head up to their home in Mill Valley and Melissa, Tara and Leslie decided to join me. We made reservations at Scoma's in Sausalito, a seafood restaurant on the water overlooking the San Francisco skyline. The four of us sat at a little table and laughed and talked for ages. For some reason, I felt it necessary to explain the entire plot of Last Holiday, a brilliant if not ridiculous romantic comedy fairytale starring the incomparable LL Cool J. As I mentioned Queen Latifah's character living in New Orleans, Tara stopped me. "Is this post-Katrina?"
Thus, all night long, everything had to be described as pre or post-Katrina.
At 10, we headed across the street to Poggio for a drink and ended up staying until 2010. They gave us hats and beads and cardboard horns. The four of us sat at the bar and went around in a circle, offering up highly personal resolution after highly personal resolution. Far more revealing, we then went around trying to decide which character from television we would be, if we could be any one of them. After much discussion, I was torn between Elaine Benes and Liz Lemon. Tara called CJ Cregg. Melissa was Julia Sugarbaker or Daisy Duke. And Leslie picked Karen Walker.
I sipped Martinelli's out of a champagne glass and felt drunk anyway. As the ball dropped and the decade officially ended, we screamed and laughed with our arms around each other toasting to a wonderful 2010.
We paid our bill and walked across the street to the pier, running through a parking lot to the water as we saw fireworks explode over San Francisco. At some point, the four adult women leaping through that parking lot in Sausalito allowed certain aspects of their personality to take over.
Leslie, reaching the railing, threw her hands in the air and screamed across the San Francisco Bay, "We're the four worst bitches in the entire world!"
I don't really know what that means, but I went with it. We all did. We'd gotten blunt, honest, funny. We'd felt like we'd been through a lot, like we'd seen some shit go down. After that decade and that year and, quite frankly, that day, we felt like...women.
Real women.
That being said, we came back to my parents' house, changed into our pajamas and plugged in Melissa's iPod. Tara made a fire as Mel began passing out presents she'd bought for the occasion. Turns out, Melissa decided to shop the "As Seen on TV" aisle of Walgreens and picked up, among other things, Bump Its. Bump its are plastic things you stick in your hair to make your bouffant bigger. They're ridiculous and incredibly fun. And so, in sunglasses and bump its, chugging champagne and cider, the four worst bitches in the entire world danced in a new decade.
At one point, much like several episodes of Designing Women, we stood before the four huge windows looking down into the dark valley and seeing our reflections perfectly, performed a very sincere rendition of En Vogue's "Don't Let Go."
I wish I could show you Melissa's solo performance to "Survivor" by Beyonce. At one point, I maintain she was 3 feet off the ground. She does these karate chop things... Anyway, I'm forbidden from publishing it. She's got an equally blackmail-able video of me in pink Santa pajamas, a top hat and cane performing "Puttin' on the Ritz," complete with jazz hands.
And I have no excuse, what with that cider.
We went to bed at 4am.
So no, there was no glamorous urban adventures, no making out with George Clooney in my New Year's Eve. There were just four girlfriends in a bar, refusing to order anything resembling a cosmo lest we look like the obvious.
I've heard a lot that this year sucked for many. I don't know that it necessarily sucked for me. 2009 was more about getting myself back, finding a way to be happy sober and learning that somewhere inside this skin, there is comfort to be found.
I'm glad I entered 2010 with these women I love, looking at the city I love, becoming a person I love, lip-synching to 90's hits in my jammies at my parents'
Happy 2010, my dear, wonderful, patient and generous readers for whom I am very, very grateful. I hope each of you had a fabulous New Year's Eve, I hope none of you made choices you wildly regret, but if you did, I hope all you reveal the dicey details in the comments section...


Matt Stewart said...

Sweetie Melissa Griffin knows karate? Can she karate chop through four layers of ice like Ralph Macchio did in The Karate Kid Part II? I'd pay to see that!

Melissa Griffin said...

I don't know karate, but I know ka-ra-zay

What a night! So much embarrassing footage!