bosnyp :: nyc for nye :: nypbos

Or, how I spent the last twenty-four hours


I brought Ayn Rand along because it’s a long trip and Atlas Shrugged is a long, long read. I fell asleep after 20 pages. When I woke up, face smooshed against the glass, the train was dark. I blinked a couple of times to focus and when I did, I caught the reflection of HeMan, several rows up, staring at my reflection in the glass. (Okay, so maybe more Prince Adam than HeMan, but decidedly quite nordic, blond and brawny. SO VERY Flash Gordon). I did the polite thing, and looked away. You know, to give him a chance to do the same? He didn’t. After a while, it started to make me nervous. And fidgety. Stop. Looking. At. Me. He didn’t, so I looked back as if to ask, “What do you want?” He smiled. After the train ride we exchanged Happy New Years and I ducked into the subway.


“It’s so good to see you! I have M&Ms. Peanut and plain. I know who I’m dealing with!”
If you know Ari, you probably understand that all of that came in one breath in the middle of a very big hug. I had some M&Ms (it would have been rude not to!), we got ready and then headed to the party, tottering in too high, too narrow heels, and amusing some fellas on the street with our,
“Sweet Jesus, how does Jessica Simpson do this ALL the time?”
“Too dumb to feel.”
“Ah. Say no more.”
Times Square area, or the festive recreation of 1949 War-torn Europe, was quite the experience. Every intersection down Broadway was another border (complete with half a dozen snarky cops). Us and our Evite passports. Well, really, more like, Us and our Evite passports and powers of flirtation. (Some of New York’s finest really are some of New York’s finest. Yowza.)

As for the party, a few items:
- Sam, wicked sorry for monopolizing your date. And those are some mad sneak attack camera skillz.
- Dahlia, girl, what a pleasure!
- Doug, there’s an unopened bottle of vodka hiding somewhere in your apartment. Don’t say I never gave you anything.
- Anyone who saw me open the bottle of champagne and hit myself in the face with the cork, yeah, it left a bruise, okay?

I know that by the time we left the party, I told someone I was pleasantly tipsy. LIAR. I was rocked. The original Big City GalPal mixes a strong drink! We three gals made it a few blocks (thank you for holding my hand, Ari) for post-party drinks, and I was really in a state. Shoes, booze and tongue all working against one another in a bizarre fashion. I was talking faster than my brain would keep up. And I’m fairly certain I told a story I have never told anyone since I left Dallas. Let’s keep that one under wraps, okay?
Home around what, 4:30? Awake around 2 PM and back at Penn Station at 4 PM. And happily, no hangover in between.


Well, that’s where I am writing this. So, let’s talk New Year’s Resolutions. This year’s theme is, Live Deliberately, and my goals are two-fold.

Debt No More, 2004
On June 1st, I intend to be finished with Visa and their interest rate rape. I should be living within my means. Ten thousand dollars in raises in one year and I have debt? That’s ridiculous.

Do something well
I play the piano. I play the guitar (I do a mean version of Smelly Cat). I paint. All only marginally well. You know, party-trick talents. So, starting in two weeks, I’m taking of of my marginally practiced talents to school. Latin Ballroom classes.

Last year’s resolution was to drink more water. Which I totally accomplished. Let’s hope this year is as… successful.

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