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   Saturday, January 08, 2005  

In which I ignore my current situation and rehash New Year's Eve

I'm not going to write about all of the things I've been wrestling with this week. There are no changes in any of it. I have made no calls. I have done nothing but attempt to formulate a financial plan for what is surely going to be an expensive endeavor. Instead, I'm going to take the opportunity, just over a week late, to regale you with a New Year's Eve story.

Every year, Mr. W and I invite a few friends over for New Years. Generally there is little to no drinking. This year being close to the anniversary of my first positive and only days before appointments that I knew could change everything, we decided to shake things up a bit in that department. I figured, "If I can't get drunk now, when the fuck can I?"

Mr. and Mrs. H were the first to arrive. I met her in grad school about 3 years ago and she has quickly become my best friend. We spent a quiet hour talking, preparing food, and sipping a glass of wine. Our remaining four guests (Mr. and Mrs. Cheese; Mr. and Mrs. G)arrived and the serious drinking began. It was a generally normal evening. Wine was consumed, jokes were told.

Mr. and Mrs. H left shortly before midnight -- they had gotten engaged at midnight 2 years ago in their living room and since this was the first New Year's they would spend together as a married couple they wanted to do it in their living room (and yes, in my drunkenness I did tell her that living room sex was more important than my party. Am hoping she was drunk enough not to be embarrassed since she knew none of the other guests before that night).

After they left, Mr. Cheese put in the Strong Bad Sings cd and proceeded to sing every word. Over...and over...all while exclaiming at the start of each new track "This is the best song ever." At one point, Mr. G drily said, "No, I don't think it's the best ever. " To which Mr. Cheese replied, "No, it is, really it is."

Thankfully we were all able to ignore Mr. Cheese as he drank. They all had much more interesting things to point and laugh at (namely me slipping off the ottoman I was sitting on, only to move to the loveseat and fall off of that as well).

Mr. and Mrs. G left somewhere between 12:30 and 1 a.m. Mr. Cheese realized he might be too drunk to drive an hour to get home. His wife, who was the only person to consume no alcohol due to her epilepsy medication, can not drive a manual transmission and so they were going to stay several hours to allow him to "sleep it off."

Mrs. Cheese, Mr. W and I all began cleaning up as Mr. Cheese went upstairs to the spare bed. As we were cleaning we noticed 8 empty wine bottles, but could only account for the consumption of 3. We realized we had only 4 of the 20 bottles of beer left and knew that other members of the party had drank only 7. As we were realizing exactly how much Mr. Cheese had consumed and beginning to worry about him, we heard water dripping...in the hallway...below the upstairs bathroom.

Mr. W and I rushed to clean that up (thankfully clear water) while Mrs. Cheese went upstairs to find out what was going on. Apparently, Mr. Cheese was vomiting everywhere. And he managed to cause our toilet to overflow. (I've still not figured out how) His wife took all his clothes away, grabbed the towels, rugs, etc. and ran down the hall to the washing machine. Then she sopped up the floor and came downstairs crying. Which is how little drunk me ended up walking around the city in my pajamas at 3 a.m. comforting my friend.

When we came home, Mr. W, in an effort to not scream at my friend's husband, was removing every vestige of Christmas from our apartment. Mrs. Cheese and I joined in and were able to make short work of it. Mr. W and I went to bed; Mrs. Cheese scrubbed the grout of my bathroom tile all night long.

In the morning as they were leaving, Mr. Cheese looked around and sheepishly asked, "What happened to Christmas? Is it January 2? Did I sleep through an entire day?"

And now...I have to paint my bedroom ceiling as wine colored vomit has seeped through during the course of this week. I really hope that Kilz stuff works!

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  Comments about my post, "In which I ignore my current situation and rehash New Year's Eve":
Oh, that sounds just...awful. What could be worse than wine colored vomit?

~Brooklyn Girl
Gotta love Mr Cheese. I have done this Mrs Cheese job before and its not pretty. Good news is you can remind him, whenever you want, about the night.

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