We don't have much planned, we're not really "Ring in the New Year" type of people or just folks looking for a reason, any reason, to booze up and act like retards. We act like retards without the aid of spirits, thank you very much. We will likely break into the fondue set that Elaine got for Christmas, melt us a couple bags of chocolate chips, and go into a dipping stupor until midnight, and then drown ourselves in sparkling apple cider. Because that's how we roll.
I'm glad that Christmas and all its shenanigans are over though, because unlike my good friend Kenneth who celebrates Christmas for its true meaning, I'm one of those bastards who use the holiday as a reason to buy people stuff. And myself. Which I'm glad I did, by the way, I came out of Christmas a little lackluster, so I'm glad I took care of myself and got crap I wanted. I got some fairly generous offerings here and there, but I dunno, I think I made a couple people pretty happy. Like we gave the gift of Rock Band to one of Elaine's daughter and her family of four. The kids came out like bandits for sure, ironically, their cool gifts came from other people and not us, and Zoe went from one hand me down Barbie to practically an army of bimbos with a wide array of clothing. Like a vet with a skirt that will always guarantee repeat business from men and their never sick dog, and a few princesses with undoubtedly high self esteem. Alex got a cool cyclops magnifying toy that I'm wanting to play with, along with some other rather envious toys that I'm sure if I had as a kid, I'd be a more fully developed adult.
Well, time for dinner. My hand was shaking just now and I showed it to my wife, and instead of, "Are you tired?", or "Are you hungry?", or the fail-safe, "Are you ok?", she asked, "Do you have Parkinsons?"
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