Just Say No to a New Years Resolution


Someone once told me that New Year’s eve celebrations began as early as 2,000 B.C. with the Babylonians.

And here I thought the Rat Pack created it.

Like any scholarly chap with a lampshade on his head at 1 a.m. would, I began digging deep into this Pagan celebration celebrated on the final day of the Gregorian calendar…

Usually marked by egregious eating, violent drinking, and unimaginable dance styles, some celebrations shoot off fireworks. Most often, it’s just mouths shooting off.

Olive drops. Ball drops. Panty drops.  You name it, New Year’s celebrations are a night of shedding – mostly inhibitions and troubles from the preceding year, but many times, articles of clothing stripped from bellies, boobs and buttocks that ought not ever have public reveal.

Trivia reports say New Year’s eve day is the busiest of the year at both Walt Disney World Resort, and Disneyland, respectively, and that Las Vegas turns into a kind of throbbing human ant hill.

There’s truth to the part about Vegas.  I went to Vegas in 1998 when Marilyn Manson was playing the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino. I woke up sometime early in 1999 humming the lame Prince song of the same name.  The last thing I remembered was stroking the plexi-glass dome that contained Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ gear. Good times.

Mostly, New Year’s eve is a disappointment – a big build-up to something great and glorious that never transpires. Like when you were in high school and were trying to secure directions to the most awesome party of the century and ended up with spiked Diet Cokes in the parking lot of the Gas ‘n’ Sip.

And I don’t know about you, but I stopped making New Year’s resolutions a long time ago.

Hearing otherwise close friends resolve to:

…finally get through seasons 3 & 4 of ’16 and Pregnant’
…stop calling their stepkids “Patches” and “Fatty” ‘
…stop keying the word “Hooker” into the side of their wife’s car
…change their “Sleep number” from Jack Daniels to Old Mr. Boston
…stop nicknaming coworkers “Multiple-abortions Mary” or “Wears-no-undies Wendy”

…leaves me with few worthy choices.

And just when I thought there was no resolution worth making or keeping, I found my resonance in comedian, Zack Galifianakis:

“This year my New Year’s resolution was to stop saying ‘Seacrest out!’ after I ejaculate.”

Hey Missoula, no matter your poison, or your morning after resolutions:
Remember to “Stay Classy!”


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