It always surprises me just how far off their tits some people will get in celebrating the arrival of the New Year.
I know why it’s such a big occasion, but I’ve never understood why nobody heralds in the arrival of a big month for them, quite like they do a new year. If you knew April, for example, was going to be a massive month for you then why wouldn’t you party like it was 1999 on the last day of March?
Because nobody really knows what lies ahead, that’s why. It’s a celebration of eternal optimism is New Years as demonstrated by the newsreader I watched who, at 6pm on January the 1st, claimed “2011 was already shaping up to be a better year than the last”.
How did he know at that point in time? The year was less than 24 hours old for fucks sake. Did he say the same thing last year, before the earthquakes, floods, volcano eruptions and mining disasters? Boy did he get that one wrong.
The inference perhaps, was that after all that shit went down anything has to be better. Perhaps, but Armageddon – the doomsday not the decidedly average comic convention - could be right round the corner. Who would really know aye?
I haven’t partied like it was 1999 since, well, 1999. It is a story I have told here before so I won’t go over it again besides it was such a tragic affair things are getting hazy and I may have inadvertently started to embellish each retell in my favour. I do recall it ended with a sympathy shag and for once I wasn’t the one dishing out the sympathy...
Needless to say then that Mrs ClubDes and I didn’t see 2011 in spectacular style. Admittedly we did live life on the edge and watched two movies in one night but that was about as hard core as it got. I was up at midnight, but only because some dickhead down the road decided to wish all and sundry a drunken happy News Years from the balcony of his house.
Naturally, being the voyeuristic neighbour that I am, I went and had a look, curious as to what all the yelling was about. Fortuitously the street lights in our little cul-de-sac have been out over the last few days so even as a skinny guy with a Neapolitan tan, standing outside in his grundies, I was shrouded in the darkness that was as black as a black man’s cape.
Oh how I would have loved to have been afforded that kind of cover back in the bushes of Nam. Some of the locals had even hoarded some fireworks from Guy Fawkes and proceeded to let them off. Hey, it was no Sydney Harbour Bridge (or Khe Sanh for that matter) but it was a nice touch.
And doesn’t cul-de-sac sound like that thing the doctor does when he cups them and asks you to cough?
Of course the true downside of a New Years piss up is the clean up the day after the night before and if ever there was a metaphor for my argument that the year ahead is not really going to be any better than the last, despite the optimism, then the cleanup is it.
Happy New Year you lot. May 2011 be better than last year, just don’t bet on it.
I know why it’s such a big occasion, but I’ve never understood why nobody heralds in the arrival of a big month for them, quite like they do a new year. If you knew April, for example, was going to be a massive month for you then why wouldn’t you party like it was 1999 on the last day of March?
Because nobody really knows what lies ahead, that’s why. It’s a celebration of eternal optimism is New Years as demonstrated by the newsreader I watched who, at 6pm on January the 1st, claimed “2011 was already shaping up to be a better year than the last”.
How did he know at that point in time? The year was less than 24 hours old for fucks sake. Did he say the same thing last year, before the earthquakes, floods, volcano eruptions and mining disasters? Boy did he get that one wrong.
The inference perhaps, was that after all that shit went down anything has to be better. Perhaps, but Armageddon – the doomsday not the decidedly average comic convention - could be right round the corner. Who would really know aye?
I haven’t partied like it was 1999 since, well, 1999. It is a story I have told here before so I won’t go over it again besides it was such a tragic affair things are getting hazy and I may have inadvertently started to embellish each retell in my favour. I do recall it ended with a sympathy shag and for once I wasn’t the one dishing out the sympathy...
Needless to say then that Mrs ClubDes and I didn’t see 2011 in spectacular style. Admittedly we did live life on the edge and watched two movies in one night but that was about as hard core as it got. I was up at midnight, but only because some dickhead down the road decided to wish all and sundry a drunken happy News Years from the balcony of his house.
Naturally, being the voyeuristic neighbour that I am, I went and had a look, curious as to what all the yelling was about. Fortuitously the street lights in our little cul-de-sac have been out over the last few days so even as a skinny guy with a Neapolitan tan, standing outside in his grundies, I was shrouded in the darkness that was as black as a black man’s cape.
Oh how I would have loved to have been afforded that kind of cover back in the bushes of Nam. Some of the locals had even hoarded some fireworks from Guy Fawkes and proceeded to let them off. Hey, it was no Sydney Harbour Bridge (or Khe Sanh for that matter) but it was a nice touch.
And doesn’t cul-de-sac sound like that thing the doctor does when he cups them and asks you to cough?
Of course the true downside of a New Years piss up is the clean up the day after the night before and if ever there was a metaphor for my argument that the year ahead is not really going to be any better than the last, despite the optimism, then the cleanup is it.
Happy New Year you lot. May 2011 be better than last year, just don’t bet on it.
Its the whole new year, new start mindset. I had a few resolutions which I couldn't blog and one I blew in spectacular fashion this morning. So already its in the past, tomorrow is a new day, new start.....
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