New Year's Eve is Stupid
Sorry. Had to come right out and say it. And when I say "New Year's Eve", I certainly don't mean the calendar day. That would be foolish. No calendar day on its own is stupid, with the exception of August 27th. I mean the celebration surrounding New Year's Eve. That's what's dumb.
And to address this over-hyped "holiday", I have decided to tell you the top 5 things I hate about New Year's Eve as well as recounting my 3 least favorite New Year's Eves in recent memory.
OK, here's what I hate about New Year's Eve:
1. Dick Clark. I do appreciate this guy busting back like Lazarus to take the torch from that ultra-annoying Ryan Seacrest, but when I think of something that is "rockin'", I most assuredly don't think of Dick Clark or his lame-o New Years bash. Oh, PLEASE, can you show a bunch of drunk, freezing New Yorkers in Times Square in a split screen with 3 Doors Down singing their latest
depressing tidbit, or better yet, Hilary Duff, who I am convinced is up past her bedtime (but still would pay an enormous sum of money to see her settle her feud with Lindsay Lohan in a pit filled with $240 worth of pudding)? The last good thing Dick Clark did, other than make a deal with the Devil to make him look 54 for eternity, was the $10,000 Pyramid and that ruled because every once in awhile, they would have Sandy Duncan on and she could literally have one eye on the giant pyramid and one on her teammate. Not for nothing, but I personally think that gave her an unfair advantage over the Nipsey Russells of the world, but what the hell do I know?
2. Those completely ridiculous New Year's glasses that people wear. Thank Christ we only have three more years after this one that I will be subjected to these fashion atrocities. After that, the only ones that can wear them are pirates and Cyclopses.
3. Champagne and board games. I hate champagne
anyway. It's sickly sweet. I have to drink it in a glass that invariably gets in the way of my schnoz, and it is so carbonated, one tiny sip of it sends me into a 3 hour long hiccup rager. I'll pass. Where's the hard stuff? And I normally don't mind board games either, but some of them are really terrible (Jenga...not really a board game, but you get the idea, Pictionary) and some of them are a little outdated. For example, do your party guests a favor and drop the extra $29.99 and upgrade your old blue Trivial Persuit "Genus Edition". Sure, it's an antique, but if I have to answer another question like "What astronomical anomaly is next due to occur in 1986?", I'm going on a three-state maiming spree. Hey, I'm no killer.
4. "We have to watch the ball drop!" Stop everything! Gotta watch this stupid disco ball, which looks like it is more at home in Allen Iverson's ear lobe, descend from a flagpole to this even more tacky electronic billboard announcing whatever year it is about to be. Baby New Year won't come if we don't watch the ball drop! I fully expect that somewhere on the earth, there are New Year's Eve orgies going on, and I guarantee, they all stop, mid-coitus, to watch the ball drop. There's a double entendre in there somewhere. And I'm not saying I've been to one of these things, but if you find yourself there, the password is "Fidelio".
5. "Auld Lang Syne". Isn't it time to retire this dinosaur? Not only is it abrasive, but what the frig does it mean? Not to mention the fact that it is totally unimaginative. Hope the lyricist didn't lose any sleep coming up with this poignant bit:
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
How about we rename it "Auld Auld Auld" and have the words be:
Auld auld auld auld auld
auld auld auld auld auld
auld auld auld auld auld
Now, THAT'S "rockin'"!
And here are my 3 least favorite New Year's Eves in recent memory:
3. 2000 - The millennium was not kind to Dim. My then-girlfriend had recently dumped me and I got a pity invite to a party thrown by a bunch of people my buddy Joe knows. At that time, I was a chain-smoking, light beer-drinking, black trenchcoat-wearing heap of misery. I go outside of the house to have a smoke as everyone else watched the ball drop and proceeded to sit on one of those beach chairs that had plastic slats going horizontally on it. You know the ones I mean and google images is not helping me. Anyway, I sit down on this chair to ponder my pathetic-ness and my ass goes straight through to the ground. After struggling to get out of this inhumane trap, I look down to see that the cold air had made the slats very unmalleable. I completely pulverized it. Dejected, I walked back into the house and sheepishly told the hosts what I had done, only to be informed that the chair had once belonged to Henry Kissinger. HENRY KISSINGER!! And so, the new century really started suck-ass.
2. 1993 - I got completely obliterated drinking vodka with Clearly Canadian, not very manly, I know, but I was 22 and as long as it wasn't Milwaukee's Best, I thought it was top-notch. I broke a guitar string while playing some Pearl Jam song and didn't notice until I went to put the guitar down that the broken end of the string was lodged in my little finger and I was bleeding like a stuck pig. Forget tetanus, I wanted more vodka
and Clearly Canadian, which caused me to pass out sometime around 10:30 PM (WAY before the ball dropped). My friends at the time had senses of humor and decided to have some fun with me. So, when I awoke the next morning, I had dried ziti in my ears, goldfish crackers stuffed up my nostrils (with the tail fins sticking out, of course), and a Blow Pop strategically placed in my unzipped jeans (yet another double entendre). Not fun times.
1. 1994 - After watching the ball drop, I actually uttered these words: "I kind of liked that Hootie and the Blowfish song they did." I really am such a baby. The dolphins do make me cry.
Well, that's that, mattress man. Hope you all have a nice end of 2005 and beginning of 2006. And don't forget...if you hear me say "Science and Nature for the wedge", it's too late...you're already dead.
- Dim.
And to address this over-hyped "holiday", I have decided to tell you the top 5 things I hate about New Year's Eve as well as recounting my 3 least favorite New Year's Eves in recent memory.
OK, here's what I hate about New Year's Eve:
1. Dick Clark. I do appreciate this guy busting back like Lazarus to take the torch from that ultra-annoying Ryan Seacrest, but when I think of something that is "rockin'", I most assuredly don't think of Dick Clark or his lame-o New Years bash. Oh, PLEASE, can you show a bunch of drunk, freezing New Yorkers in Times Square in a split screen with 3 Doors Down singing their latest
depressing tidbit, or better yet, Hilary Duff, who I am convinced is up past her bedtime (but still would pay an enormous sum of money to see her settle her feud with Lindsay Lohan in a pit filled with $240 worth of pudding)? The last good thing Dick Clark did, other than make a deal with the Devil to make him look 54 for eternity, was the $10,000 Pyramid and that ruled because every once in awhile, they would have Sandy Duncan on and she could literally have one eye on the giant pyramid and one on her teammate. Not for nothing, but I personally think that gave her an unfair advantage over the Nipsey Russells of the world, but what the hell do I know?
2. Those completely ridiculous New Year's glasses that people wear. Thank Christ we only have three more years after this one that I will be subjected to these fashion atrocities. After that, the only ones that can wear them are pirates and Cyclopses.
3. Champagne and board games. I hate champagne
anyway. It's sickly sweet. I have to drink it in a glass that invariably gets in the way of my schnoz, and it is so carbonated, one tiny sip of it sends me into a 3 hour long hiccup rager. I'll pass. Where's the hard stuff? And I normally don't mind board games either, but some of them are really terrible (Jenga...not really a board game, but you get the idea, Pictionary) and some of them are a little outdated. For example, do your party guests a favor and drop the extra $29.99 and upgrade your old blue Trivial Persuit "Genus Edition". Sure, it's an antique, but if I have to answer another question like "What astronomical anomaly is next due to occur in 1986?", I'm going on a three-state maiming spree. Hey, I'm no killer.
4. "We have to watch the ball drop!" Stop everything! Gotta watch this stupid disco ball, which looks like it is more at home in Allen Iverson's ear lobe, descend from a flagpole to this even more tacky electronic billboard announcing whatever year it is about to be. Baby New Year won't come if we don't watch the ball drop! I fully expect that somewhere on the earth, there are New Year's Eve orgies going on, and I guarantee, they all stop, mid-coitus, to watch the ball drop. There's a double entendre in there somewhere. And I'm not saying I've been to one of these things, but if you find yourself there, the password is "Fidelio".
5. "Auld Lang Syne". Isn't it time to retire this dinosaur? Not only is it abrasive, but what the frig does it mean? Not to mention the fact that it is totally unimaginative. Hope the lyricist didn't lose any sleep coming up with this poignant bit:
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
How about we rename it "Auld Auld Auld" and have the words be:
Auld auld auld auld auld
auld auld auld auld auld
auld auld auld auld auld
Now, THAT'S "rockin'"!
And here are my 3 least favorite New Year's Eves in recent memory:
3. 2000 - The millennium was not kind to Dim. My then-girlfriend had recently dumped me and I got a pity invite to a party thrown by a bunch of people my buddy Joe knows. At that time, I was a chain-smoking, light beer-drinking, black trenchcoat-wearing heap of misery. I go outside of the house to have a smoke as everyone else watched the ball drop and proceeded to sit on one of those beach chairs that had plastic slats going horizontally on it. You know the ones I mean and google images is not helping me. Anyway, I sit down on this chair to ponder my pathetic-ness and my ass goes straight through to the ground. After struggling to get out of this inhumane trap, I look down to see that the cold air had made the slats very unmalleable. I completely pulverized it. Dejected, I walked back into the house and sheepishly told the hosts what I had done, only to be informed that the chair had once belonged to Henry Kissinger. HENRY KISSINGER!! And so, the new century really started suck-ass.
2. 1993 - I got completely obliterated drinking vodka with Clearly Canadian, not very manly, I know, but I was 22 and as long as it wasn't Milwaukee's Best, I thought it was top-notch. I broke a guitar string while playing some Pearl Jam song and didn't notice until I went to put the guitar down that the broken end of the string was lodged in my little finger and I was bleeding like a stuck pig. Forget tetanus, I wanted more vodka
and Clearly Canadian, which caused me to pass out sometime around 10:30 PM (WAY before the ball dropped). My friends at the time had senses of humor and decided to have some fun with me. So, when I awoke the next morning, I had dried ziti in my ears, goldfish crackers stuffed up my nostrils (with the tail fins sticking out, of course), and a Blow Pop strategically placed in my unzipped jeans (yet another double entendre). Not fun times.1. 1994 - After watching the ball drop, I actually uttered these words: "I kind of liked that Hootie and the Blowfish song they did." I really am such a baby. The dolphins do make me cry.
Well, that's that, mattress man. Hope you all have a nice end of 2005 and beginning of 2006. And don't forget...if you hear me say "Science and Nature for the wedge", it's too late...you're already dead.
- Dim.
posted by Dim at 12/29/2005 02:25:00 PM
7 Comments:
We say, "for the piece" in a world-ending tone when we're trying for that damn wedge. And I own the genus edition. Hee!
Great post, as usual. I laughed out-freakin'-loud at the second half of #4. Orgies? Mid-coitus? Where do you come up with these things?!
I hate New Year's, too, for two reasons. I hate people, and parties mean mingling, which means people. And I hate people. :-P So it all comes around to that. Second reason, I have no man. New Year's is only worth a crap if you have a significant other, and I do not.
I hate the ball, I hate Dick Clark, I hate those glasses, and I hate waiting for hours and hours for a meaningless event to occur.
Therefore, I agree wholeheartedly with you.
And uh...Henry Kissinger? For real?! That sounds like something only I could do.
Where do I come up with these things? I'm over-tired. Being a mild pervert helps too.
I have a significant other and we both still think that NYE is lame. Sure, we are all up for a party with people we know, but that's not happening this year. We'll probably stay home, fighting to stay awake, hoping that there's a Monk marathon on or something.
And yes, I was told that chair belonged to Henry Kissinger. I may lie about a lot of things: the sun exploding, for example, but I am true blue when it comes to Hank.
- D.
Is it wrong that I laughed at your past misfortunes? I usually start drinking around 8 and fall asleep at 10 while watching the Twilight Zone marathon. A rockin' New Year's indeed.
Of course not! My misfortunes are here for the whole world to laugh at. Luckily for me, only you and Rusty read my blog!
- D.
Did you even TRY my technique, Mr. Dim? All I had to do was write about my celebrity crush, and already I attracted two or three people (albeit probable weirdos). Go find others, comment, and see what happens!
Of course, if you have Jenny and MR to keep you company in Dim City, who else do you need, really? :)
p.s. I also laughed at your misfortunes, but I was too polite to say anything. Thanks to Jenny, for breaking the ice on that one.
Please. We are friends here. No need to call me Mr. Call me Senor.
I checked some other blogs, but didn't really get inspired to leave comments! HA! I'm a stuck-up blogger!
Is MR you? My dimness is coming through...it's Friday after all.
- D.
When I wrote out that last comment and put "Mr." Dim, I had first written Senor, but I decided to delete it because I couldn't use the ~ over the n, and that bothered me. It made me laugh out loud that you said Senor in your response.
Sorry that didn't work for you. It may be because you hate people in general. I find that that's usually my problem, too.
Yeah, I'm MR. I have a two-word first name...maybe I'll divulge it someday. I thought you knew that since Jenny refers to me as MR sometimes. I told her it was okay to still call me MR on her blog, since she started using Rusty, and she got all fake-huffy and said, "I can call you whatever I want! I can call you M___ R___ (last name) of #### ______ Court, York, PA, if I want to!" (fill in the blanks with my real info...duh). It was funny. I told her I'd kick her ass if she did that.
And you're not dim, you're brilliant.
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