Wins and Losses in The ’04

Greetings and Happy New Year tidings to us all.

I rang in The ’04 (I am officially calling this year The ’04 (pronounced oh-four) just cuz I think The OC sounds really cool. I’m not being sarcastic – I truly do like the sound of it. Maybe because I lived there during some formative years and I saw none of the glamor or drugs that pervade the show. Granted I was in the second grade, but according to the show I would have to see that somewhere. Anyway I digress), I rang in the New Year with unprecedented debauchery which would have qualified it as one of my best except that somewhere in the minute and a half that I paid for the cab outside my apartment and I walked in my door I lost my wallet and my cell phone. It was around 8am and I was suitably messy so you can see how this was possible.*

The crew that I was with was dressed to the nines – sharp suits, tight black dresses, and some seriously vixen-like lipstick: all of us single (in way or another) and we were out for good times. After a decadent yet shockingly expensive dinner we hit up the Madagascar party which Jim described as an arty frat party and I had to chuckle in agreement. We rang in the midnight moment with mild asphyxiation in a slightly botched human fireworks display. No one was hurt but there was much coughing and eye watering among the crowd.

Later was a party near the Bowery where we chatted up youngsters, and one sweet little 20 year old from Colorado let me cut him in line for the bathroom in exchange for a hickey. Let me clarify, he wanted to get the hickey. A woman of my word, I gave him a nice (but mild) one on the neck which was more bright red vixen lipstick than anything else. He went home happy. But we marched onward. It was 4 and the night was young. Undaunted by bartenders who had already announced last call, we got the skinny on a bar in Greenpoint that was serving until 8 am. There were many an interesting folk there including a really sweet bunch from Virginia who seemed slightly freaked out by the city around them. It was cute. The bartenders were swell and there were some hot strangers to frolic with. The scary part was when we realized it was a hundred percent day outside, not the bluish glow of sunrise, but the total brightness of morning. It was time to go and lose my belongings.

I was in a conversation with one such stranger where we were talking about things, as in personal property, and since I have a habit of being separated from my belongings I feel like I have developed a sort of zen attitude towards it. So I was blabbering on about how when it comes down to it, nothing you have can keep you from being who you are, and is thus not that important. It was in the context of a conversation about owning a gun in the city. Anyway, I got my comeuppance in the form of waking up after barely sleeping by a gnawing hunger with no money and no way of getting the chicken sandwich I was craving. Serves me right.

Anyway, good times. The year should only live up to its promise: looking hot, partying bravely, and realizing that one’s opinions on the nature of things should be tempered with plenty of humility.

* Note to friends.. no cell phone service at the moment

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