I'm Afraid of New Year's Eve

mylifeissonotironic mentioned something to me yesterday that has burrowed itself in my present consciousness.

We were discussing what we wanted to do for New Year's. "I have this weird thing where I honestly believe that how you spend your New Year's is a sign of how your year is going to go."

Um. Ok. Let me think about this for a minute.



New Year's 2006:
In LA, with my best friend and her boyfriend. Me?? A third wheel?? Shocking. At some point in the night, we lost each other and she ended up in a hotel with her boyfriend and I ended up alone in a friend's apartment, as I had locked myself out of mine. Oh, and at some point, someone came to wake me up because the apartment smelled like gas and they were afraid I could die.
Awesome. Ok, next.



New Year's 2007:
San Francisco with my besties. They were driving up from Santa Barbara, I was taking the train from LA and meeting them later, as I had a shoot the afternoon of the 30th. I arrived the morning of the holiday, freezing and exhausted, and spent the afternoon napping in the hotel room. After having a fantastic time getting ready, we went to an overcrowded (and annoyingly expensive) party where I proceeded to trip and fall all night long on the alcohol-soaked floor. Eventually, bruised, battered, utterly exhausted and missing a camera, I left early to go back to the hotel and sleep. I was kindly accompanied and tucked in to bed by a totally platonic guy friend.



Stellar. NEXT.



New Year's 2008:
I was in Nebraska, visiting family. One of my best guy friends was in Kansas, visiting family. He fabulously agreed to pick me up in Nebraska and drive me back to KC so that we could have an awesomly random midwest New Year's. How could I possibly screw this one up? HAHAHHAAAA. Easily. I was totally ready to go out when I realized that the shine on my patent leather heels was a bit lackluster. Nothing a bit of shoe polish couldn't fix! As I went to put my shiny shoes back on my feet, I noticed a spot on my dress. A very large, very black spot on my very pink New Year's dress. Yup. Shoe polish. Emergency calls were made to alert his friends of our impending tardiness and to my mom for cleaning advice. Miraculously, the stain was eventually removed and we made it to the party. Fast forward to the next morning, when I woke up on the couch with a black eye.
Sweet. Yeah. Uh, next?



New Year's 2009:
First New Year's Eve in New York. I was so unbelievably cold that I kind of wanted to die. I am fairly certain I had about 5 pairs of tights on beneath my short, sequined Alice & Olicia dress. And knee-high leather boots, obviously. We cab it to my roomie's boyfriend's loft party and eventually leave to attend a party hosted by Olympians - one of whom was my midnite kiss. Ok, not a terrible way to kick off the the New Year, but here's the ironic twist: A few days later, when Olympian called to ask me to dinner, I was deathly ill. By the next week, when I had recovered and he called once again, I had decided that he was too short (6'0") and not my type and I was over it.
Fabulous. And typical.

New Year's 2010:
*TBD*
So far, the only prep step I have taken, is a pedicure. I managed to smudge/massacre my impeccably painted toenails even before I reached the drying machine.

I am already terrified of this New Year's Eve and the year it will foreshadow.



**Update:
This New Year's Eve was lovely. Things of note: walking out of my apartment, we managed to get a cab right away and remarked that this must be a precursor of excellent things to come. That was the only cab we were able to get that night. Even the subway quit on us. All in all, there were good drinks, nice people, and entertaining conversation... though, of course, I was surrounded by dudes who were disparagingly shorter than myself and yet again, neglected to have a New Year's kiss.
I'm not going to bother with interpretation.