2005-01-04 || 5:21 p.m.

|| NYE recap and resolution! more ghost sex! ||

picking up some soggy forlorn cigarette butts in the backyard, i realized my favorite parts of the NYE party this weekend past were small inconsequential moments not having anything to do with the midnight countdown or champagne revelry (save for brian's 12:01 karaoke rendition of a helmet song that had the meaner assortment of haircuts looking visibly annoyed and unable to grasp the beauty of the moment). somewhere around three o'clock i was in the kitchen with my ladies, cooking macaroni and cheese for a particularly hungry and drunken someone i cannot recall now, tidying up and cataloguing empty bottles and weaving just a bit while speaking quite seriously about my getting married this year (dear bridegroom, i will contact you posthaste.). there was the matter of hiding out in brian's room with brian and joe, scrutinizing the creepiness of carson daly, adding delicate graffiti to the baby animals calendar me gran sent for christmas (the orangutan now says "2005 is all about deep frenching.") and ringing that orange bell eric tried to steal when someone said something of a zinger ("the boy with the red scarf has really got to go. although if he had never opened his mouth to prove how obnoxious/terrible he was i would have made out with him in the hallway." ding!). there were the four personal costume changes, reaping the benefits of having a party in one's own home, including the brief and rare display of me in ellberg's hot pink velour tracksuit and sara in kell's famed terrycloth number (not pictured, thank you jebus). my most embarrassing moment 2005 of straddling c then o on the couch to their HORROR (1. why is it when i try to be sexy i just end up feeling more like a golden girl?) (2. like i was telling chris. resolution! be a little bit more like anna nicole smith in '05. resolution! have lots more ghost sex in '05. ps. ask me about ghost sex*.). sean's straight edge dancing. the awe-ful (awe-some?) moment when we found out just how many people and their severe haircuts we could fit into this house. we had fifteen overnight guests; we counted. when i had handed out all the blankets, fawned all over d.e.'s guitar strumming from his supine position in his sleeping bag, shooed the cats back in my room because one of the overnight haircut meanies had mistaken stuart for an o-possum, kell and owen and i proceeded to have NYE after party '05. the most unflattering polaroids ever developed were taken. laugh fits commenced over phrases i cannot repeat in this, my diaryland diary. lots of this: "old man vs. the sea. old man wins!" silence. "chicken vs. the egg. egg wins!" laughing into pillows. "kramer vs. kramer. kramer wins!" feeling really bad about laughing so hard when there are all those terribly uncomfortable people mere feet away in the living room sleeping head to toe in suits and overcoats under second-rate grandma-crafted afghans. in the morning the meanies left without a word even though i was in the process of making them coffee, for i am a generous and winsome hostess, and trying to figure out how to make waffles for twenty with lots of flour, one egg, and no milk. i got to lavish my maternal inclinations on the particularly hungover and nauseous. after a quick cleaning bout matt and nate and owen and i settled in for an afternoon of head-achey slack, watching cable from under comforters. owen and matt went out for toilet paper, 7-11 hot dogs and s'mores toaster pastries. there was a plan for new year's record shopping that wasn't attempted until well after nightfall. kell and chris came back for mass taco bell feast and chocolate chip cookies and a viewing of a two-dollar vhs copy of the changeling. i don't know if anyone saw the very end. i was so very tired, owen was passed out diagonally across my bed (early times packs a punch!), becky was snoring, brian was winedrunk from house of prime rib excursion earlier in the evening, and sean had a disturbing drive to explore the never before seen attic in all its haunty moldy glory.
which brings us squarely into 2005.
happy new year happy new year.

*okay. ghost sex: in a conversation re: becoming more like anna nicole smith, perhaps to stave off the golden girl personality disorder, the story came up of anna nicole's claim that a ghost used to visit her and give it to her real good. chris and i, being fervent supernatural enthusiasts, discussed how ghost sex may very well be the apex of supernatural encounters, if not the hottest.

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