The wife and I spent the Christian New Year within stumbling distance from the house by slogging it to a party in a foot and half of ice, slush and snow with a backpack full of booze. We welcomed in 2007 with burnt pizza, shots of Jack Daniels, warm Squirt chasers and countless games of Guitar Hero (Kaye and I rocked in 2007 with a head-to-head ax battle of Cheap Trick’s “Surrender” neither of us caring that it was past midnight). On New Year’s Day we invited the in-laws over to watch the Fiesta Bowl in High Definition and eat sweetened swine. Three native Idahoans were in the house as Boise State upset Oklahoma in overtime to go undefeated on the season and wreak havoc on BCS voting. Swept up in the heat of the win, famed running back and crochet master knitter Ian Johnson proposed to his girlfriend. In other news, Jessica Alba throws a football in a bikini.
My new year started the exact same way my past six did; I was intoxicated, somebody passed me a glass, glasses or bottle of cheap champagne and somebody in my general vicinity kissed my face. My job has kept me busier than your mother in a roomful of horny sailors waving one-dollar bills and cucumbers. I usually come home from work burned out. I just want to eat a plate of tacos, play a few games of NHL 2002, watch some smut and then go upstairs to bed and fall asleep without incident.