"How does a Homemaker Man party on New Year's Eve," you all aren't wondering? Check it: Our new New Year's Eve tradition includes chasing two toddlers around the mall, and watching my wife fall asleep while she watches MSNBC documentaries about internet inspired murders over love triangles that don't exist, Jim Jones and the Jonestown Massacre (I dvr'd this one for her), and coming up next, the Kidnapping of Patty Hearst.
We say fuck the Three Stooges marathon. If we're gonna watch and laugh at an evening of senseless televised violence, let's do it right. Moe, Larry, the Koolaid! Nyuck, nyuck.
The internet inspired murder is really the ridiculous one. Two men involved with an 18 year old-girl who turns out to be a fifty year old woman. Bwahahahahaha! Like, isn't that what everyone expects on the internet by now? It's just as likely that I am an eighteen year old girl playing out my fantasies of being a middle-aged male homemaker as it is that I am actually that person. Who hasn't fantasize about that at one time or another? Right? You betcha.
For those who scoff, I will have you know that I am remarkably similar to an eighteen-year old girl. We're both starting college soon, and we both have boobs. Practically twins.
For my resolutions:
I resolve to eh, screw new year's resolutions. I love my wife and I love my kids and we managed to keep the new one alive and happy through his 1st birthday. I'd say that makes 2009 a pretty kick ass year. What more could you ask for? An effective universal healthcare plan and a recommitment to education for every child, I guess, but after that what else could you ask for? A peaceful resolution to the Afghan war of course. I'm not insensitive. But AFTER that what else could you ask for?
A new t.v. But that is it, I promise.
I mean there is season 2 of True Blood on blu-ray, but that is really like part of the t.v. request, so it doesn't really count.
To all of you who I've come to know at least a little, I wish for you a New Year in which your house and family is filled with as much love as mine. I'm a lucky fucker.
Auld Lang Synedly,
UPDATE: At 11:08 my wife stirred, sat-up and said, "I'm awake!' At 11:22 she was again asleep. I was planning on waking her up as the ball was dropping in New York. Then I realized that my choices were either Carson Daly or a stroked-out Dick Clark. Patty Hearst it is. Also, one of the local college stations is playing a mix of old-school hip-hop ("ring-ding dong, ring-a-ding-ding-ding dong. You can here'em ringin'.") And some of the best of the new stuff. It is getting all New Yearsy up in here.