New Year's Eve was spectacular. Or, I made a spectacle of myself, One of the two occured depending on who you ask. My original plan was to stay local and head over to the punk rock prom at Asbury Lanes. But other members of the bad girl posse had different ideas. The Crashin'In party in Brooklyn caught their fancy. Since my only requirements for a good time are a)dancing b) gin, I acquiesced. Especially after hearing Mommy and Daddy were playing. Lord knows I love me some Daddy. Sorry, Vivian. I promise to look but not touch. The change in plans was late in the day, so I stayed with the outfit I chose for my punk rock prom- a graphic print 80's dress with pointy shoulder pads, fishnets and furry ankle boots (vintage, of course, darlings.) We got to the club just in time to watch the open bar close up shop. Nonplussed, we stocked up on cocktails and caught Mommy and Daddy's set. Mommy did the countdown to the new year. Shortly after, this, oh my god, tall (giantish), dark (ravishing) handsome (rakishly so) man walked up to me, said "Happy New Year, sexy" and proceeded to give me the best kiss of 2005 thus far. Brooklyn is always good to me. He told me to find him later and we'd kiss some more. After hours of dancing, I ran into him again. Pointing him out to the girls as my future husband, he got down on one knee in front of me. Then rose and told me he was in the middle to talking to some chicks across the room. Last sighting was by Talullah. He left with a blonde. I was busy chatting up another lad that needed rescuing from a potential DWI, you know Dialing While Intoxicated. The poor boy literally had his finger on the button, dialing his ex when I asked him if that was what he was doing, He laughed, put the phone down and had fun with us for the rest of the night. See, bad girls can be good samaritans. The dancing and ginning were abundant. Although, I remember everything that happened, there are a few things I should have had one more drink to forget. I'm kidding. I'm not at the drink to forget level yet. I just started drinking shots last year. Other than that, I'm beat this week. Work, work, work is all I do. I gave my self a good talking to at the beginning of the year, explaining the need for relaxation and rejunvenation and home renovation. But then I get sidetracked by all that work, Funny how being some sort of "holic" runs in my family and I end up with the workaholic variety. It's like being the unfrilly, unsexy variety of plant that has gorgeous kin. Like a plain white tulip next to a scarlet parrot variety.