Once upon a time, New Years Eve was a night to prepare for. Perfect shoes. Perfect outfit. Perfect plans. Parties. Get-ready-to-go-out-music blasting. I always had a special dress for the occasion. And plenty of substances to abuse.

 

Except somehow, every New Years Eve ended up disappointing. One year, too much traffic left me counting down till midnight behind a flatulating cab driver who refused to let me smoke, even with the window down. And then there was one year when I flew to London to party with my cousin, who came down with the flu. Come midnight I was tripping through the snow in my high-heels with a bottle of Champagne in my hand trying to find a local bloke to kiss. (Didn't happen.) And then there was the year when I tried to make out with a squirrel in the bush I passed out in around 10:30 in my friend's backyard. And the night I got lost and had to ask a pooping-on-the-side-of-the-road homeless dude for directions. (I tend to wander when intoxicated.)

 

Needless to say, I wasn't disappointed when we decided to stay in with Archer last NYE. It was a relief. The perfect excuse to give my friends. The perfect excuse to give myself.

"... Actually, we're just going to stay in here and play Scrabble and drink Bellinis." 

 

"Really? That sounds really great. Can I come over?"

 

"Um. Sure, I guess. It's going to be really mellow. You'll have to whisper because, you know, Archer's asleep at 8:00.  There will be no noise-makers or anything like that so we'll have to snap quietly at midnight..."

 

"Fine with me! I'll bring the dip!"

 

Pretty soon all of our friends were coming over. Somehow our lack-of-plans led to a quiet-little-party. And it was the greatest New Years Eve ever. Archer slept soundly through the festivities. I even got a triple word score for Zephyr! The night was magic.

Needless to say, this year we're doing it again. Not because we planned to but because as it turns out, everyone would rather hang out with two homebodies and a baby then go out on the town and rock the Casbah. (Or get stuck in line at some supposed-to-be-cool-when-really-it's-just-full-of-creepy-dudes-with-too-much- Joop-cologne Hollywood club come midnight.)

 

So where a night of D&D once meant drunken debauchery, it now quite matter of factly means D&D, as in, Dungeons and Dragons. Apparently, that is the game De Jour this year. You heard me.

 

So... Come ye local Paladins and Wizards! I'll be mixing the Bellinis pretty fucking weak strong and powerful!

We're a child-friendly venue so please Bring Your Own Baby and your twenty-sided die. We're going to be here partying UNTIL 12.01  ALL NIGHT LONG.

 
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