Cheering on right here, right now.

The jolliness of it all.. another round of toasts, howls, whoops… and yet another rendition of Auld Lang Syne.. this time acapella. Alcohol as you know, will make you a better singer. I could at this point, quite willingly jump off the balcony, sailing down the18 stories down to the sidewalk, no I take that back, a 12 gauge to the back of my head would spare me the additional 8 seconds it would take me to hit the pavement below. You could try another method if you wanted to, if like me, secretly could not, even if your life depended on it, fathom why all the gayety heralding the birth of another year. But, as per the usual, I decided to take the slow route of pouring myself another stiff scotch to dull me me into ignoring the festivities. I hate the new year… Not always though, it used to be fun. A brand spanking new everything, another 365 days to accomplish the things written down on day 1 of another cold January. It gets tiring after a while, the promise of the new year. The optimism erodes and the new year joins Santa Clause and the Easter bunny in meaning anything at all. One grows out of the latter two earlier.. thats the only real difference. A year is just that.. another year. I prefer to count my lifetime in the total number of days passed. That way, theres no arbitrary stress inducing finish line that needs to be crossed 365 days starting tomorrow. If I get asked one more time if I “pwned” my resolutions of the soon to be previous year, the answer would, so help me god, a punch to the nose. Yes.. yes. I’d even keep a paper towel handy to sop up the nose bleed that I was sure would ensue. I thought anyway.. I’ve never actually punched anybody in the nose come to think of it. That actually cheered me up just a little bit.. enough to realise the host cheaped out on the Scotch. I nosed it again.. i’ll bet hes having the good stuff, the 18 year old hes got stashed behind the bar. I was adamant to drink the entire weight of the double black I had brought as a door gift. I hate the new year as much as I hate my birthday.. thats another year older, another year almost deader.. another year, I lose some function to varying degree, be it my erection, memory or eyesight. I could fuck like a bunny back in my prime.. The old pecker just doesn’t have it him anymore. And my serve hasn’t been the same since 02, its not like I don’t try harder. I stared wistfully past the luscious bosoms into some distant corner of the room at the Mrs. Nah,.. nothing stirred. And she was dressed in her best too. Best pair of tits in the room, thats for sure. I was lucky, but oh, the irony. The clink of the melting ice brought my gaze down to the glass in my hand. “Happy New Year” I whispered to myself, and thought of having to dechristmasify the house tomorrow. Yep… Another year. I grudgingly make my over to the Mrs to lead her arm to the dance floor with my best smile on. The new year may mean jack to me, but a dance is a dance and theres never enough of those around. So i’ll take the dance, and twirled her, holding her close, breathing her in, my mind buzzing from the Scotch. I just pretended it was only the two of us., I dont need an occasion to cut the rug. Until my knee or hip gives out on me, this at least, I can do well, and I do make quite an impression. Let them watch and gawk and cheer for the new year. Im going to cheer right here and right now. I will probably have to answer for this tomorrow.. theres always good old Scotch to blame. “Happy New Year..” I whispered to the Mrs. and got a gentle peck on the cheek in acknowledgment. Nice.


Note: i dont actually hate the new year, but in all honesty its just another excuse to get together to get nice and drunk. That i can do any day of the week. Its amazing how few of them i actually remember past 10 pm. So yes, the above is a work of fiction and very tongue in cheek. although i still contest the Mrs has the best pair of knockers in any given room any time. Lucky me. And.. also, the pecker works just fine.. for now. 🙂


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