— 2017 has arrived —
and it’s about damned time, too.
It’s been 365 days
since we last had to remember
to use a new year on our checks.
And I was just getting the hang of it.
Can’t make an omelet
without breaking stuff, right?
And as vapid and inane
as that opening might be,
I’m kinda stuck with it, so…..
I dunno what to expect,
— who does —
although, of course,
we’re keeping our chin up – and out.
It’s damn frustrating to
watch the year numbers going up,
and all my resources going down.
All that ‘rich get richer’ stuff
is starting to break me completely.
Thank heaven we’ve still
got our health and our friends….
as well as feel the sense of
community that blogging can bring —
Can I get an Amen ?
I know you’re thrilled)
— so at the very least,
we’ll have some kinda
interesting content on this blog today,
somewhere along the line.
I actually wanted to have a post
about obnoxious drunks at New Years parties,
….. my own big ugly puss
started showing up with disturbing frequency.
And we can’t have that, now.
Everything in moderation.
What a buzz-kill, man.
we’ll have my Polish Great-Grandmother
used to call ” zupa gulaszowa ” .
Otherwise known as:
it LOOKS a mess.
I remember asking our
Muscleheaded readers a couple years ago,
(a regular group of party-animals
if there ever was one)
—— how they spent New Years Eve,
and I got an interesting
hodge-podge of answers…..
Going out on the town
to a high falootin’ club was
high on the popularity list….
schmoozin’ and boozin’…..
That might have it’s down-side, though…
And it could get to be pretty expensive.
Watching the ball drop in Times Square,
All that looking up to the
damn thing coming down…
My neck aches just thinking about it.
But my favorite was from one sweet lady,
who had been invited to a pajama party.
Some curvy cuties in jammies,
an unlimited supply of Wild Turkey,
and preferably a live band,
and you really got do have something to celebrate.
Assuming I’m invited, of course.
Otherwise, I think it’s a pretty dumb idea.