Normally, celebrating New Year's Eve has been something I look forward to. It's the one night a year where my wife and I pretend that we don't have children and can still party like we did 10 years ago. It's usually the morning after where we are reminded of our age. This year, it was the night of.
To start, our best friends had moved far away to Texas, so we were without our normal 'crew'. (I assume that's still a cool word to use in this type of application) So right off the bat, things were a bit outta whack. So we went to dinner with some back-up friends at a local restaurant that used to be one of the only fine dining establishments in our area. USED to be is the key word here.
To put it bluntly, Applebee's would have provided a more refined dining experience (see picture below for scientific data as to why Applebee's sucks). The steak was incredibly tough and overcooked (as always in my experience, since I prefer my beef to 'moo' at me) while the lobster was only visible to those with super powered microscopic vision. (that means it was small) The butter to dip the 'lobster' in was the only consistent food item on the plate. If Banquet frozen dinners had a steak and lobster option, I don't doubt it would be a tastier fare than this drivel.
*takes off food critic's hat*
The company was great, however. I could tell my wife was really enjoying some adult conversation with a woman her own age and my conversation partner was a friend of mine since 2nd grade, so we talked at length about the usual guy-stuff that comes up with old friends (women, beer, work; usually in that order)
During our dinner, I would look at a clock and remember that in years prior, I would be putting on my make-up, and getting dressed like a hussy, while getting my pre-game drink on. This normally resulted in memories such as this:
Something just didn't feel right sitting in a dimly lit restaurant, trying to enjoy some Sangria that tasted like it was poured from a can into a fancy glass carafe. I wasn't wearing mascara and getting my swerve on. Rather, I was trying to be cordial and well behaved, like Spencer Tracy or something.
Well, my friends, I am no Spencer Tracy. I like to SHOP at Spencer's, even though I know everything I buy there belongs in a dorm room from the 90's, and usually carries an expiration date to match.
Short story long, we tried to 'go out' after that, but it became clear that at 9:30pm, the night wasn't ready to begin, and we were ready for it to end already. So we trudged home, feeling a bit defeated.
Another couple came over to the house and stayed until late, but I just wasn't feeling it. No fireworks, sushi, debauchery, video games, guns, unabashed self-proclamations of greatness, nothing. I guess you could say this is all part of 'growing up', which is another reminder that growing up sucks. I wanna be a Toys 'R' Us kid forever. I finally get why Peter Pan wanted to fly around in tights all day and mess with a pedophile pirate. At least he didn't have to conform to anyone's notion of what an adult should be.
*takes off sociology professor's hat*
Oh well, hopefully next year will be better, and this Stella can get her groove back.
*note-this was the first image returned when I searched for 'stella gettin her groove back'...uh...I mean this is me and a picture I just took of myself...me. (it's for tha ladies)
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