I am currently waiting for guests to get here for my big giant hugemoungous NYE party, that really isnt that hugemoungous.  I am expecting 6 people, including myself, but that is about the maximum capacity of my tiny studio apartment.

I love to entertain, and I spent far more money getting ready for this than I should’ve.  I’m a writer, which means that I am painfully poor (more writer’s angst in a later post).  I wanted one of those giant subs, so I ordered one.

Myyyyy hero *swoon*

It came at 1pm.

That means that I had to find a way to fit 4 feet of American Hero (half without cheese) into my fridge to keep it fresh until guests get here.  That’s a lot of sub for 6 people . . . or not enough.

I also put out a dish of my precious Starbursts (they are a contradiction, just like me).  I hope that somebody brings booze.  I only have one bottle of Bacardi.

I really love entertaining, but I always expect that something will go wrong.  Mostly, I’m afraid that no one will show.  This comes from experiences in my childhood.  I was unpopular and only a few kids would come to my birthday parties, even if they were at someplace fun, like at a bowling alley or an arcade.

12 year olds all bowl with blue balls . . .

the kicker was that none of my school friends came to my bar mitzvah.  3 Friends came, and I knew them from outside of school.  Instead, of all my “friends” went to another kid’s party because they liked him better.  A couple did come to the service, and for that, I am grateful, but there is nothing like being the center of a party where the only people there are relatives that you hardly know.

When I was a teen, i always tried to have people over at my place and I would supply the beer or weed.  I wanted them to like me.  I think that they did, but they certainly liked my beer.  The fact that none of them talk to me anymore is probably for the best.  Sure, people drift away, but that little kid standing alone at his bar mitzvah still feels like he’s up there on stage alone, in an awful brown suit, with terrible hair that my mom cut and big ugly glasses.

This turned into a very whiny post.  I am sorry for that.  I will end with 5 things I like about throwing parties:

5 — I don’t have to drive home — I can get as drunk as I want and don’t have to drive drunk. (BTW: AAA will drive you home for free tonight)

4 — No passing out on a strange couch — There is always the danger of waking up with a penis drawn on your forehead.  Once I woke up covered in vomit and girlfriend (Not the current one)

3 — People bring you beer — alcohol delivery system 🙂  Remember, in fiction, all writers, priests, and wizards are alcohol dependent

2 — The antici . . . pation — I love the feeling of right now, waiting for people to show.  It’s all very exciting

1 — Validation — I am weak and I need to believe that people love me.  More whininess.  I am such a douche.

HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYONE!!!