HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
I was perfectly content in staying home (alone) and finishing Pride and Prejudice. I don’t make resolutions, but this time I made and Year End Resolution…FINISH P&P!!! Which didn’t happen…SURPRISE! Instead on NYE, I got a call from dad, he didn’t like that I was a home alone for the evening and wanted me to come to over. He and mom were making finger foods for dinner, and he was acting like it was some sort of novel concept, finger foods….for dinner!! OMG!! So , I said I’d come over. Mom was in bed by 9, dad crashed on the couch (watching the Barrett Jackson auction) by 930…HAPPY NEW YEAR!! I’m glad I didn’t stay home, I would have missed some high end excitement. By 10, and reading P&P for 30 minutes, I was ready for bed. I texted the college peeps with a happy new year and my early retirement. Got some gruff back.
Life sucks when you are old and boring.
But that's not even my most pathetic New Year's of my adult life. The second New Year's in AZ, Hitler and I were cohabitating in our apartment, we both worked during the day, just went out to dinner, and came home to ring in 2003...we both had fallen asleep watching TV. I remember waking up around 1230/1ish and saying "Hitler, Happy New Year, I'm going to bed". She was all "but it's not midnight yet". I had to tell her we had been sleeping for the last 2 hours or so, missed midnight, Happy New Year and good night. Stellar, stellar New Years.
New year’s day was another load of excitement. Ava’s parents had a brunch thing at their place. Bobo decided to be monkey boy and climb their orange tree for some harvesting.
After lunch Hitler and I went to Ikea. I haven’t been in YEARS and had this hankering to go. At Ikea, there’s always an interesting mix of people. As we walked by this one couple, the wife was doused in some heavy and stinky perfume. I was deep in thought about the stink, when Hitler asked me a question…I replied with “I know I can smell it!” To which Hitler said “YOU CAN SMELL HER BOOBS????” Wait, what??? I said not boobs, perfume!!! Then I looked at the smelly lady…she was rail skinny, walking hunched over her cart, and she had the Tori Spelling type boob job and some bad bleach blonde with black roots Tina Turner hair (which really only looks good on Tina). I start to sing "she works hard for the money" (ala Agador). Hitler's said "It's Tina hair, not Donna Sommer!!" (First, let me just say how impressed I was that she knew I was singing Donna Sommer, especially after hearing she wanted Rump Shaker for her new MP3 player but had to pay the 99cents for it on Rhapsody and decided against it.) I said, I that I was thinking she looked kinda like a cheap hooker, hence the singing, which I had stuck in my head for a very, very long time. And as Murphy's Law mandates, we bumped into Tori/Tina/Cheap Ho a million times, around every corner. Every time I saw her, I started singing. On the drive home, Hitler kept laughing and saying "YOU CAN SMELL HER BOOBS!!!!!!!"
Sisterly joys.
Rock out, cock out.
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