Allow me to be uncharacteristically bitter for a moment. I feel guilty even considering it, but... eh.
I hate New Year's Eve. I hate the ball drop. I hate the kissing at midnight. I do not like this holiday, despite the hullabaloo and brouhaha that will occur on into perpetuity. This could, partly, be due to the fact that my significant other for the past six New Year's Eves kissed someone else at the stroke of midnight. Each and every year. Why? Because it was funny. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.
And I thought I had plans for tonight, until my "person" failed to call me. And I've been the one doing the calling for the past week or so. So. I guess that's that.
I'm considering going down to the Bay to watch the fireworks alone, but that just seems even more depressing than what I'm doing at the moment: sitting in my apartment alone, nursing a sprained left knee, and drinking a glass of two-buck Chuck.
Wow, I think this might be the angriest of all posts. Fret not, tomorrow morning I will awake as my typical effervescent self. Allow me to wallow for a few minutes. Or maybe the next 3 1/2 hours. sigh
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
I vote for the Bay. Go to it, girl.
And I'm at work. I thought I wouldn't care, but I do. I had to have a small cry in the bathroom. THIS BLOWS.
I feel ya, babe. I'm kissing you in the hypothetical world. Just like the year that our boyfriends made out at midnight. *sigh*
Oh, GOD. Forgot about that. Vomit!
Post a Comment