Well I survived all the drinking and all the parties and all the people and all the bullshit that comes with a new year. On new year’s eve we had about 60 people over for a party of our own. We didn’t want to go anywhere, because of the danger out on the roads. So instead we had all our loved ones and friends brave the dangers and come to us. We had a big bucket everyone dropped their keys in, and no one left until the next morning anyway. Most people passed out on the stairs or by the fireplace, the couches… wherever they could find that wasn’t taken.

Some interesting people showed up this year. I should let you know ahead of time that yes we did go to Bob’s Bowl-A-Rama. We bowled until about 9:30, then took to the house, as our party was supposed to start at 10. Well, we picked up about ten people at Bob’s who wanted to come along. Some of them old friends, and some of them even more. Embarrassingly enough, three – count ’em, three – of my ex-girlfriends ended up being at the party. Phew. That was some scary shit. Mainly because now they know where I live. There were no real issues though. (Not counting the part where Storm had to run out and roll in the snow because Marie caught his pants on fire with the incense burner… I told Storm I wouldn’t mention that. Oops!) Oh, that and when George fell off my loft and landed in the beanbag. Those little white foam balls will take the next nine years to clean up.

We had a bobbing-for-apples contest until Seth puked in the bucket, whereupon we quit promptly. Not too many people wanted to ‘bob for apples, dodging the carrots’. The music was loud, the neighbors were there with us, the drink was on, and all was good. My next door neighbor is a cop anyway. Did I tell you that? Yes, that owns. Then at about one o’clock, we all got quiet and I brought out a few of my guitars and we all made some drunken noise. You know, the kind of songs you play at parties where everyone is drunk and they want to sing along? Like Show Us Your Titties, Waitress and I’ll Order the Filet by Garth Brooks, Merle Haggard’s I Don’t Know The Bartender But She’s Got Big Boobs and She’s No Monkey But She Likes My Banana by Rod Stewart, shit like that. We even covered The Stewardess Dropped a Deuce in My Baggage by Heart. It was intense.

The best part of the party – well, not the best part, but the most relieving part the next morning – was that my brand new couches didn’t get stained or anything. And my dog is still alive. Unfortunately, so is the cat. But better luck next time, right? We are all still trying to recover from that long party, though everyone made it home safely. Aside from Brandy running her car into a telephone pole because she fell asleep at the wheel, everyone made it fine. Oh, Brandy is fine too. When she woke up and realized what happened, she drove home and went to bed. Her car is only moderately damaged.

So, until next year’s party, all we can do is relax, prepare, and await anxiously. We are all so excited here. Karen says this year she’s gonna bring her big ass trampoline so everyone can get drunk and bounce around in the backyard. We’ll play a game of “Minefield Paratrooper”. You basically pretend like you are a paratrooper being dropped into a minefield by jumping off the trampoline with a trash bag for a parachute, and hope you don’t land on a dog turd. We can’t wait!