I’ve come to realize that I really hate New Year’s Eve. The hype around the night is nowhere near proportional the the amount of fun. There’s so much pressure to go out to the perfect place, find the perfect dress, the perfect heels – pressure, pressure, pressure. And you know what I say to that pressure: “Thanks, but no thanks.”
I can’t think back to a time that I have gone out and been like “dang, I had the time of my life.” I mean, I love being with my friends and I really love some bubbly. Combine the two and you think I’d be on cloud 9. I really don’t think what you’re doing at 12 AM on January 1 reflects what you’re year is going to be like. I don’t believe in all that.
What I’m trying to get at is this: There’s this blog 2birds1blog.com where this hilarious chick named Meg recounts her hilarious life in D.C. Anywho, last year she wrote a post on how much she hates The Dreaded Day. She perfectly captures my feelings. Amen, Meg McBlogger, Amen.
Click here to read the post.