You’re Going To Hate Your New Year’s Eve. I Guarantee It.

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Every year on December 31st, we take a look back at all the regrettable and depressing moments that define our simplistic and unimportant lives while we whimsically look forward. In just a few hours, the year increases by one digit and then everyone, even you, gets a clean slate of 365 days and nights to improve on last year’s failures.

And the good times are ushered in with one rip-roaring legendary party. Except that night won’t happen because it’s going to suck. Just like it did last year and the year before.

Welcome to New Year’s Eve, the most overrated party night of the year. Ever since the advent of this “holiday”, billions of people have woken up at some point on January 1st unfulfilled, uninspired, and severely disappointed.

Usually, three options exist for every one on this wretched night: house party, bar “celebration”, or sit at home and watch overrated “celebrities” on TV.

The first option leaves you in a myriad of disappointing options. More likely than not, it’s some gathering where most people are bombed and speaking that sweet sweet drunk talk. If you can listen to that blabbering in a straight-laced state then god bless you. Numerous “See ya next year” jokes on 12/31 are hard enough to listen to half in the bag, let alone sober as a saint. But, if you subscribe to the “can’t beat’em join’em” school of thought, you better have a DD. Cops are salivating on January 1st to bust some boozers. Now, you’re forced to stay over and watch any fun that was in this party quickly disintegrate after 12am, as the climax is gone and nothing but sad party hats and lies of how great this next year remain.

Not your thing, well there’s always the bar. Yeah, hit up a few spots. Not a bad idea, I must say. Haha, not tonight.

No, this is the night when you’re local watering hole becomes an ultra-exclusive showcase of unknown assholes. Now in order to see your favorite bartender, you have to pay an insane cover charge for drinks you don’t want, food you would never order, and music you would never listen to.

Awesome.

Want a drink? Good luck. Get in line behind all the douchebags trying to order shots for super annoying drunk chicks they just met. Yeah, that same chick that just bumped into you and told you how much she just “loves New Year’s Eve”. All the while DJ Sycophant rocks the 1’s and 2’s and you imagine Lucifer’s bash can’t be much worse.

Maybe go next door to the other bar? Not a chance. Sycophant’s brother is hosting that techno-party and the cover there is double the price. Why? Because they have crappy champagne you wouldn’t gargle with sitting on ice exclusively for you, of course!

Lastly, you can decide to sit at home and enjoy the ball drop in the comfort of your own home. Which crappy “celebration” of D-rate celebrities will you ring in the New Year with? Whatever terrible decision you make you are forced to watch repeated shots of probable unichs sitting in the freezing cold and pretending to have fun. Honestly, I don’t why, but these Times Square people really freak me out.

Forget the TV, check the internet, go on Facebook and Twitter. Oh, look people are wishing hollow and insincere “Happy New Year’s” to everyone. I feel so “happy”. And the other people posting at this hour are hoping this year is better than the last. No shit, I’ve been reading your depressing crap for the last 364 days, I’m praying for you buddy. Big time.

So, that’s your night. Not suprisingly the night blew, Auld Lang Syne plays wherever you are and the only saving grace for the entire wretched affair is you don’t have to endure this forced spectacle for another 364 days.

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