Ringing in the New Year

If you bring up the picture and squint really really hard, you can see my unfortunate self being crushed by the crowds. Oh Swing, Oh Sway! If only I could be hip and cool and party on top of the TransAmerica building. If only I had a shit ton of money and could party in the Bay instead of next to it. If only that crazy bitch behind me would stop blowing her goddamned glitter paper trumpets. I’m not a grouch; one blow in the party-favor is no big deal. Continuous stream of seal-like noise-monsoon is NOT OKAY. It’s stab-worthy, okay, lady? And what are you, 40? Please, PLEASE, lay off the drink. It can’t be good for the menopause.

And now, an apology.

I didn’t mean to start of the new year and a new blog all bitchy. There’s a limit. One can only take so much.

In other news, the first day of 2009 is off to a reeeal slow start. I got up all stuffed up and hacking, sat around with no appetite, ate half a bar of the big-ass Ghirardelli milk chocolate caramel bar, felt like a bloated pregnant elephant, and is now trying to stand up so that I can go in the bathroom and try to fit myself in the shower so that I can wash my <strike>junk</strike>trunk. FUN.

UGH. I’m still hungry. What the hell? Oh noes! I’m getting old! My body is craving more and storing more fat in order to prepare for child-rearing. NOOOOO. Although, to be completely honest, I was never a spritely youngling of little stature. “To lose weight” should be a New Year’s goal, but it’s everyone’s goal every year. And we all fail. Well, okay, FINE, I always fail. There, happy? Now I’m going to cry into my imaginary New Year Booze. God damn I should have drank last night.

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