It’s The Most Miserable Night of the Year

I am sure it won’t come as much of a surprise to learn that I absolutely despite New Year’s Eve. It is every Saturday night rolled into one; it is Valentine’s Day times a million; it is every Bank Holiday Monday I’ve ever spent alone. Thank the Universe for alcohol, which makes the night almost tolerable. In fact, this is how much I hate NYE: I try not drink for at least three days beforehand in an attempt to recalibrate my tolerance level to pre functioning alcoholic measures. If it wasn’t for fireworks (I love fireworks) I would knock back a couple Temazepam and go to sleep at eight in the evening (as it is, I stay up ‘til past midnight and then take them).

Sincere Apologies to Mr. John Lennon

So after yesterday’s post, I decided to do a little online research on the famous lyrics I quoted. And guess what? I owe John Lennon an apology. Because he did not, in fact, write that particular lyric. It was Paul McCartney (this Wiki blub explains it). But that actually makes sense because, whilst I harbor no ill will towards John Lennon, I hate Paul McCartney. So much so, in fact, that he is on the very short list of People I Hate So Much I Wouldn’t Want To Meet Them (this is very different from the People I Hate But Would Still Like To Meet Them list).

John Lennon Can Suck It

OK, even though my Christmas wasn’t all that bad – I had food to eat, alcohol to drink, I didn’t have to work or drive or even shower, and I received a couple phones calls – it was still not what I deserve if John Lennon was telling the truth and “The love you take is equal to the love you make.” But, no, because I am not a size two, I don’t get to spend my holiday with someone special and his family, or be whisked off to wine country for the weekend or a ski cabin in the mountains or even taken to the movies (or be in a financial/emotional position to do most of those things for myself). Maybe your lyrics, Mr. Lennon, should have been “The love you take is equal to the love you make if you are what this shallow society considers physically attractive because only hot people get back the love they give, not fat lonely losers like you, MF.”

An Xmas Story

Like I did for Halloween and Thanksgiving I tried to come up with a story from my American past of how I spent a particular Xmas. But really, there isn’t one that stands out for a major good or bad reason. Just little things I remember, like the Xmas I went on Craig’s List and ended up inviting a German guy over (when someone the next day asked me what I did, I said, “A German.”). There was the Xmas I never got out of my Xmas Eve jammies or showered or even brushed my teeth and saw no one except my neighbor when he stopped by in the evening to tell me the building’s heating system was kaput (the look on his face told me I must have been a little smelly). There was the Xmas spent sexting with Yuri whenever his live-in GF left him alone. And there was the Xmas evening I spent throwing up the Red Stripe lager and barbeque beef Hot Pockets that was my Xmas lunch.  Ah, good times.

Why, Wing Stop, Why?

Driving to work this morning I saw that a branch of Wing Stop is opening in my driving comfort zone (which is basically anywhere, without having to make a left turn, on the two routes I have between where I live and where I work). I wish it wasn’t. I have way too many food temptations I can drive to without making a left turn as it is. It’s bad enough that there are a couple McDonald’s, a KFC, a Raising Cane’s and a Five Guys already there, but now the Wing Stop temptation? Oy! I guess I should just be happy there is no Krispy Kremes in the safe area, and no Wendy’s. Or a drive-thru Panda Express. And a Pop-Eye’s on the right (there is one on the left, so that’s OK).