It’s that time of year where you start asking your friends, “So what are you doing for New Years?” Panic strikes as Christmas approaches and you still have no idea what lame party you are going to. Well I’ll tell you what I’m doing for New Years: I am cooking myself a meal from my Betty Crocker cookbook, drinking a bottle of wine (probably a Riesling), turning off my phone, watching a movie, masturbating, and then going to bed. Total cost: $20. For me there will be no party, no countdown, no overpriced entry fee, no mass text messages, no cheap Champagne, and no party amateurs celebrating another year of life they wasted. Why bother? The people who love New Years Eve are the same who love making a big deal on their birthday. Well there is an age where you stop making a big deal of both — that age is 9.
Now I will not judge you if you spend $100 to pretend that you are fun. It is your money and you can do whatever you want with it, but let’s be honest: I am superior to you. I know that fun can not be bought. I know that very little good can can come out of packed crowds. I know that bar and club owners are diluting their vodka as we speak. Everyone tries so hard on New Years (“Oh my God I need to buy a new dress!”) that all you end up with is a bunch of losers acting unnatural, praying that they will find someone with a heartbeat to make out with. I will have my own party — a hand party — and I guarantee you it will be fun.