Do you realize it is already 2009 in nearly a quarter of the Earth?
Heck, it’s nearly 5AM in the Christmas Islands. Almost time for the Christmas Islanders to go back to work. Which is probably where you are if you are reading this. Work.
So tell your boss you want to go home. Tell him or her that you have some lox and cream cheese waiting for you. Or some black-eyed peas and collard greens. Tell him you have football to watch. Or don’t tell them anything and just leave. It’s New Year’s Eve. Go home.
Anyway, if you are home, good job. Now pour out a little champagne (not the expensive stuff, the cheap bottle) for your homies who ain’t there.
Once your homies are accounted for, time to get yourself ready to welcome in 2009. Time to dust off those high-priced kicks (the ones with the fat laces I hope), splash on the Johnson’s Baby Powder and Cool Water cologne (or the Polo cologne). You are going to bring in the new year in style. And don’t forget those raincoats. Don’t want any unnecessary mouths to feed come Labor Day.
Now that you are fresh dressed like a million bucks, it’s time to paint the town red. Honestly, I never understood that phrase – “paint the town red”. What is that supposed to mean? Walking around like the Dutch painter boy with a bucket of red paint doesn’t seem like a good way to break in the new year. Maybe we should skip the whole “red” thing.
(Note: According to Phrases.org.uk, “paint the town red” means “the kind of unruly behaviour that results in much blood being spilt”. That’s cool. So do that if you want. But I digress.)
So back to the beginning …. you are dressed to the nines, smelling fresh and clean, and totin’ a wad of dubs. There’s only one place to go. The rub’a'dub club.
Oh, the times you will have …
Time to try and slip the doorman a five only to have him laugh at you and send you to the back of the line. Time to spend that check Grandma gave you for Christmas on a drink for that girl in the black mini skirt. Time for her to say thanks and then disappear. Time to realize you have to break the seal right before the ball drops. Time to realize the other people at the club that look as old as you look awfully pathetic. Time to make the big decision: do you call it a night at 12:30 or do you throw down a few more shots and try and ward off those evil spirits that might have followed you from 2008?
Word to the wise: don’t try to squeeze down that last shot of Jager. It always tastes worse coming back up.
Happy New Year and see everyone in 2009.
By the way, people of New York, according to a site called Apocalypse 2008-2015, New York City is going bye-bye on February 9, 2009. Not to ruin your buzz or anything.