Don’t Let the Door Hit 2008 on the Way Out

Well, the year that wouldn’t die, finally did. Not sure how things played out in your neck of the woods, but the two parties I attended were fun, but subdued.

They were more like exorcisms with party favors, with everyone enjoying him or herself, but still discussing the current state of employment survivor, the game where everyone eventually loses their job.

The first one was at a killer loft and the theme was Chinese banquet. The apartment was decked out, and the hosts, Martin and John, indeed did put out a feast. And the house drink, the Maotini, got me treacherously drunk well before 10PM, even.

A wall of the loft projected a power point slide show of 1950’s Chinese postcards. And they had unbelievable hanging lanterns and everyone ate the dumplings and noodles out of stylish little faux takeout containers. Anyway, even the bartenders were in costume.

Afterward a small group of us went out for a great Italian dinner and drank red wine and hugged it up at midnight and went to our place afterward to drink ice-wine, “hang out”, and eat homemade chocolate chip cookies while watching the news broadcasts of NYE’s around the world. Sounds boring to you? You must be a youngster.

From the sounds I hear from my apartment window, I think the twenty-somethings had a rollicking time. The ability to shrug off the twin burdens of dwindling savings and frigid temperatures is something I am unable to even see in my rearview mirror. I’ve had some insane New Year’s Eves (including one in Amsterdam that almost killed me, but that’s a story for another day), but I feel like I am done with that phase of my partying.

I was invited to some karaoke event that began at 2am. It looked like a tremendous amount of fun for the younger set. The guy hosting it is a genuine eccentric, not a phony one. His girlfriend, too. And I am sure the crowd was thick with booze, blunts and battling karaoke egomaniacs. But for folks over thirty? Move along. You have no business in there. Go and find your other friends and drink cocktails until half-three. And sing at a bar until your heart’s content. Then to go for breakfast somewhere, and have a side of sausage. My theory, anyway. My wife vehemently disagrees. Then again, she’s nineteen.

I am so kidding.

She has been decrying my curmudgeonly ways since we met, and thinks I should mind my own fucking business about how people live. But then I wouldn’t be the secretly judgmental guy that she fell in love with. That always makes her laugh.

Still, the crescendo of last night’s crescendo found her sleeping on the couch, nuzzling a cookie and smiling, so I must be doing something right. Besides, of course, for staying in such wicked shape. Ahem.

Happy New Year to you whoever, wherever and whyever you are. Let’s make 2009 the best ever. Seriously.