Obligatory end of the year posting

Hey kids! It's NYE and I've been a total slacker on my postings. One of my resolutions is to spend more time thinking about how I ignore writing my blog. I figure that will get me off my ass and get me posting more. Riiiiight.

NYE is traditionally a booooring time around the Creative HQ. Usually I watch the ball drop on the DVR the next morning. But this year, guess who was the popular girl in town? Go on, guess. I'll wait... ok, it's me! I was invited to not one, not two, not three, but 1,467 parties! Alright, I was invited to four parties and 11 bars holding parties. But that's a lot of invitations, my friends and lurkers.

Since my other NY resolution is to spend less money on hooch (hey, stop laughing), I thought I'd get a head start by going to a house party instead of a bar. As Ace and I are both trying to spend less on hooch (see, it's less funny when my boyfriend is involved, isn't it? Well?) we nixed the idea of going to smanchy town bar parties and instead are going where everybody knows our names. I do have to take a dish, and a bottle of something. My friend R is hosting a Special Edition Supper Club (usually held on Sundays. Thursday is the new Sunday kids.). So I get to take food and a bottle of sparkling wine that someone gave me for my housewarming party. I'm taking Hoppin' Johns and peanut brittle. HJ is a southern thing. It's supposed to bring you good luck in the new year. I figured it can't hurt. Peanut brittle was made on a whim. I was ansy this afternoon and thought I'd see what kind of candy I could make if I didn't leave the house. Peanuts+sugar+heat and voila! My dentist loves me, bitches.

But all these invitations have caused considerable drama within my social circle. Two of my friends B and J called me non-stop today trying to coordinate the parties and events they think we're attending. I had to break it to them that I was going to stay at the house party instead of going with them to a swanky bar to toast the NY. B had already made reservations for us at said bar. J was nearly hyperventilating because she hates to have people unhappy. I was calm as I said to them: go to your crazy overpriced bar, I'm staying in and getting drunk on the cheap. It's all working out, but it was touch and go for a few hours this afternoon. (See brittle, peanut above.)

That brings me to my final resolution for 2009: be a better communicator about hooch and money. I just need to tell my friends clearly that I. Can. Not. Spend. Money. It's not personal, it's the bank. They expect me to have money in my account when I write checks. Whatevah.

Happy New Year lurkers. And you, too, friends.