Of all New Year's Eves I've had in recent years, this is probably the greatest. I have the day off work and one of the first two-day weekends in months, so unlike in previous years when I had nearly a month off school and lazed around watching VH1 all day, this time I really appreciate the time off.
And what was the worst New Year's, you ask? No, it does not involve some sordid tale of hookers, blow, and cops (that was actually 1994 and the second best New Year's Eve I ever had). It was two years ago, when I went with my dad, stepmom and boyfriend at the time to my sister's house in North Carolina. The actual New Year's itself was fine (other than the vomit-covered toilet I was forced to pee in at a rest stop en route), and the weekend was perfectly pleasant.
However, upon returning to my apartment a few days later and going up to my room, I discovered that all my clutter on the floor had been shoved to one side. When I asked my roommate who had been in there and why, she informed me that eight people had slept at our place after their New Year's party so they wouldn't drink and drive, and that three of them had crashed in my bed. The explanation for my stuff having been moved was simply that it would have been disastrous to send drunk people up there with all the clutter everywhere. Clearly, it was inconsiderate of me not to leave my room up to hotel standards in case it was decided without consulting me that three strangers were to sleep there.
Actually, they weren't really strangers. I'd met them before, and they were perfectly nice people - a polyamorous married couple who shared a girlfriend. So then I quit worrying about whether or not any of my stuff had been tampered with and instead stripped my sheets and scrambled for my detergent and bleach.
The best New Year's of my whole life, though, was probably the one to which I owe my life: on the wee hours of the morning of the 1st of January, 1986, I was conceived. Happy New Year indeed.
Happy 2011 to all visitors, readers, and trolls. Be safe and have threesomes (if that's your bag), but preferably in your own beds.