Ring ding-a-ding!

I do love the Gregorian calendar. Without it, most of us wouldn’t have the opportunity to make out with perfect strangers just minutes before the closing time bar lights are turned on and, in the majority of these situations, we welcome the phrase ‘four eyes’ because it implies we are/were wearing beer goggles.

This year, I had the good fortune of knowing the person I kissed and they got the privilege of kissing just me and not both me and Carl, but enough about Carl and more about the evening.

We started it with a lovely dinner and, as we were enjoying our digestifs – which were the same beverages we enjoyed as our apéritifs – I gave a ring ding-a-ding to my personal driver, Muhammad Ali for a pick-up. In typical personal driver fashion, he arrived early and took us safely to our first off-site celebration facility, an Irish pub.

Waiting patiently for us at the pub was Add-ly, Johnny Utah and Bitchin’ Camaro. Add-ly was wearing a lovely bedazzled shirt that appeared to be sharing a message of sorts, which started on the Northern part of the shirt and traveled South. “It think it is in Braille,” giggled Sleepless. A few seconds later, CounterCat commented, “Maybe it’s Braille.” And so would be the night, and the next few days with CounterCat. If she were to have heard me actually say that, she might comment, “And so will be  the next few days.”

We were snapping loads of photos and Bitchin’ Camaro made a suggestion type instruction, “Get a picture of my ass.” Apparently, she had been through several outfit changes and then decided the jeans she was wearing were a gift to her ass and others.

After Bitchin’ Camaro’s photo shoot, we headed to the martini bar, where we planned to spend the rest of the evening. Drunk camera was working overtime, taking and making all kinds of photographic evidence of the evening. Unfortunately, none of these pictures provided leads in the case of CounterCat’s missing lipgloss.

At one point in the evening, Add-ly, Bitchin’ Camaro, and I decided to take ownership of the dance floor. The music was lending itself to signature dance moves, so I was showing off my ‘Hobot.’ Add-ly chose ‘The Snake’ and Bitchin’ Camaro was having a hard time deciding. I suggested a new move,’Paparazzi,’ however she decided to do a classic, ‘The Farmer.’ Johnny Utah, Sleepless and D-Dog soon joined us and, like Bitchin’ Camaro, were also having a hard time coming up with a signature dance move, so we decided to do ‘The Huddle.’ This move is a lot like that which we see behind the line of Scrimmage and, when we wanted to take the move up a notch, we did ‘The Super Huddle.’

As midnight approached and the new year was just around the corner, we took several shots – some were taken with the camera and others were taken by us – all of them were in sync with the ring ding-a-ding of the New Year clock. Within no time, the ‘witching hour’ was upon us and some of the group went their own way while the rest of us enjoyed some of the finer things in life, trash plates, greasy burgers, and the sight of holiday drunks passed out at nearby tables. Prior to making her departure, CounterCat made her way to the loo. Worried about the amount of time she was spending in there, I went to retrieve her. Just then, I saw her walking toward me with several sheets of toilet paper attached to her boot and trailing behind her. “I just puked,” she informed me. “That’s nice,” I said, “But let’s get this toilet paper off of your boot. You are not taking that into 2011.” A few ring ding-a-dings later and we were all home, safely in our beds. Ready to start a new year. Is a new year, however, ready for us?

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