Why I Hate New Year's Eve

New Year's Eve is overhyped, overrated, and overdone. I get the excitement - a new year, a new beginning, a day off of work. Woohoo. But why, oh why, is there so much pressure for it to be Legen -wait for it - dary.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dqf1BmN4Dag

Every year I get excited for New Year's Eve and every year it is a let down. The problem? Huge expectations. I feel like nearly every movie and every TV show hypes the night up to ridiculous epic proportions. "Friends" has a few good realistic New Year's Eve episodes (not to mention one of the BEST episodes ever....The One With All The Resolutions Season 5, Episode 11) and the "Sex and the City" movie showed less than perfect moments at midnight. I am thankful for those moments because my own New Year's Eves have always seemed to be below par.

December 31, 2008
My first year out of college and I was dating a nice enough guy, but really I should have known this was coming. He was nice, but being nice doesn't translate to making all your dreams come true. My expectations of a New Years in Madison were of epic proportions; I knew the bartenders so I wouldn't have to wait for drinks, I knew the bouncers so I wouldn't have to wait outside in the cold, I even had a new dress to rock on the big night. Unfortunately it snowed, a lot. It's Wisconsin, I should have expected that wrench in the plans. But I braved the weather anyway and wore the open toed shoes that matched the dress with a great going out coat that I usually wouldn't risk on such a big night (drunkies spilling on it is my big fear). The night ended with the group splitting up, someone stealing my coat, getting frost bite on a toe or two, and my date not giving a hoot if I was there or not. I ended up heading home around 1am, then woke up at 5am and decided to rally. I headed down the street to another bar, one that was closing around 8am. Most of the city's bartenders were partying there since they had closed their own establishments a few hours earlier... holy shit show. People were falling over, making out, crying, puking, eating insane amounts of french fries, and above all, spilling drinks. When I finally made it to the bar, the bartenders were too drunk to make a good drink and I ended up with a mimosa made with white wine instead of champagne. Don't try it, it's not good. I finally admitted defeat and headed back to my apartment.

December 31, 2009
Best plans ever! I was going to drive down to Chicago with Kay and her boyfriend. We were going to meet up with my boyfriend and hit up a club downtown. We had the tickets and again, I bought the best dress. I even bought the best shoes. It was going to be epic.
Not. So. Much.
The night started falling apart a few nights earlier. Kay's boyfriend decided he didn't want to go to Chicago and promised that he would take her there some other weekend if she would just give in and stay in Wisconsin for New Year's Eve. She caved. I can't blame her, he's her boyfriend and they are still together. I was a bit unhappy though - I was pretty jazzed to spend New Year's with my best friend! Oh well, I still was going to be with my boyfriend and I would get to wear my new dress. I just had to get through a day of work first.
I woke up earlllly and headed to the stores I had to check before heading down to Chicago. Everything began going wrong immediately. I ripped open my finger around 9am and there was quite a bit of blood. The store manager had to dig up a bandaid and helped me clean it up. Did I let it get to me? No! I chatted with other workers about my exciting plans. The day was moving along and I didn't even mind the grouchy store managers I invariably met. I  realized I was hitting a time crunch and started to pick up the pace. I was down to just a few more stores when I got the phone call - two more stores on my list. Eff. Ok, I can do this! I'll just skip lunch and speed. I was back in good spirits when I got the second call - a rep calling to say I had checked stores on his list. Yep, that's right. Three of the stores that I had spent hours at, hauling beer and listening to angry store owners bitch about the holiday, yep, someone else was also covering them. Our bosses hadn't coordinated anything. I then received a third call; another store I had checked was another rep's. She was confused too. AWESOME. So basically I wasted my time, injured myself, and was about to faint from low blood sugar. I called a friend and had a breakdown. There was absolutely no way I could make it to Chicago in plenty of time now. I would have to battle the rest of the universe entering the city after work, probably have to hire a crane to move a car so that I could steal a parking spot, and then still have no time to look as great as I wanted to. I was angry and exhausted by the time I got home so I took Nyquil and went to sleep around 10pm. I embraced the New Year in the morning.

December 31, 2010
Yeah, you're right. It hasn't happened yet. Here's the thing though; 2010 has been amazing. More than I could ever imagine for myself. There have definitely been tough times, like the death of a close family friend and the breakup with 2009 boyfriend. Overall though, it has been wonderful. New friends, new food, new experiences - can't beat that. Which is why I'm terrified that the amazingly awesome, potentially legendary plans we have for New Year's are all going to go horribly wrong. We are heading to Budapest - an idea I had months ago and finally everyone got on board. I'm meeting up with 6 girlfriends I lived with this summer and the best words to describe them are fun and ridiculous. I'll be in a gorgeous city with great friends. How could that go wrong? WELL. The guys started changing New Year's plans a few days ago. No one wanted to drive so we'd have to take a train. Then no one wanted to go to Budapest/train wasn't an option/I'm not really sure what exactly happened and then they wanted to go to Barcelona. WHAT?! That is not Budapest. My friends are not meeting us in Barcelona. And it is about twice as far, and we'd have to drive through about 18 other awesome cities to get there. I never did figure out why they chose Barcelona. I was getting so mad that I wanted to punch a chicken in the face or take a bat to a tree. Fortunately, I checked Facebook today and apparently the original Budapest plans are back on. I have NO idea what happened that led to this massive, heart attack inducing circle, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed they don't change their minds again.

So what do I do? Do I start setting the bar lower? Tell myself not to expect New Year's to be anything different from a regular Friday night? I guess that just feels like giving up to me. I want New Year's Eve to be legendary. I want an epic evening of drinking and dancing. I want to wear my 2009 New Year's dress and damn it, I want compliments! But I'm tired of being super excited and then being disappointed. Paige has always told me to hold out for the great guys, never to settle for less than perfect love stories. Ok, she didn't say it like that, but that is the life lesson I will take away from my friendship with her. I feel like I should be able to apply that concept to New Year's Eve. I shouldn't have to settle for lame New Year's experiences - but that also means I have to be an active participant. I have to make sure it becomes legendary. Epic nights don't just happen to people, we make them happen for ourselves.

So here is my decision: Whatever happens, this year is going to be LEGEN - wait for it - DARY!

Challenge of the Week

As it is the holiday season, here is a challenge in the spirit of giving:

Donate to a charity.


It can be however much you feel you can part with, and it can be to any charity you want. Drop your spare change in the Salvation Army buckets or donate that coat you never wear to a local shelter. Whatever it is, just do something to help someone else this week.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

The Oldest At The Bar

This weekend I had the privilege of being the oldest person at the bar. Well, one of the guys I was with is a few months older so I should rephrase – I was the oldest girl at the bar. I’m sure of it. I even checked the corners for creepers to see if maybe I could get lumped into 20 somethings vs. 40 somethings, but nope, there were none. I am 25 – in between early 20s and late 20s: No Man’s Land.

The night started out fine. I went to get drinks at an upscale martini bar where the bartender knows me and makes me the BEST martinis ever. I’m going to use a real name here and say bartender Joe Goldfine has made me some mean cocktails in my day (visit him at Cooper’s Tavern), but since I’m no longer in Wisconsin I had to find a local bartender to concoct something delicious and girly. He did. I would share the cocktail ingredients with you but I don’t know them – I just know there was mango involved at some point. So my friend Kevin and I grabbed some drinks, enjoyed the St. Louis special, toasted ravioli, and talked. We didn’t have to yell, the music volume at the bar was low. We didn’t have to guard drinks, there wasn’t anyone whirling around in a drunk tornado ready to knock drinks out of our hands. I didn’t even have to wait in the restroom for some girl to finish puking before I could pee. We just enjoyed the ambiance and waited for my girlfriends to call with the location of our next stop.

I had given them three areas to choose from. One was the district we were already in, but Cindy didn’t want to dress up that much. The second was a melting pot strip of bars where hippies and hipsters happily mingle. The third was a district somewhat a mesh of the first two – half the bars were upscale, the other half low key, and we could find something in the middle. The best part about these three areas is that my friends all lived near or in them. But did they choose one of the three? Nope. They chose to go to one of the nearby college campus bars. For my Madison friends the bar we ended up at was Bullfeathers meets Madison’s but with the clientele of KK. Yeah, there’s an image. Take all the best aspects of Bullfeathers (mostly that you could play drinking games), the dance floor and décor of Madison’s, and throw in all the 18 year old jersey chasers and you can imagine the bar that I was heading towards. To all those readers who haven’t had the privilege of drinking in Madison, just imagine 18-20 year olds dressed up like it’s New Years Eve, playing beer pong and flip cup while grinding to the latest American rap music.

I agreed to go there because a) I wanted to see my girlfriends before I left b) I wanted to dance and c) I had a new outfit I wanted to test out before Europe. So Kevin and I headed over there and paid the $2 cover to get into the bar. I didn’t actually believe them when the bouncer asked for the cover (what kind of cover is $2? I figured they were making extra cash on the side) but it turns out that it was Quarter Draft Night. To my international friends, that means you can get a glass of beer for 25 cents. That is 19 Euro cents. I could feel trouble brewing.

My girlfriends arrived with two boys in tow. One was a new kid I hadn’t met and the other was a guy I met last weekend who is very fun and yes, an ultimate frisbee player. You know I can’t say no to that. It was only about 11:00 and the bar was very tame. People mentioned wanting to play Beer Pong. I was ambivalent about this plan...perhaps I’d just stay for a drink or two and go home. Then someone threw in the option to play Flip Cup. My ears perked up, “Flip Cup?” I looked around like a dog that heard the word “walk.” Yes, it was true; we were going to play Flip Cup.

Flip Cup is my absolute favorite game ever. EVER. I am awesome at it and my team hasn’t lost in years. I teach it to people wherever I go and this past summer I was involved in a huge game where we had about 20 people on each team.

Flip Cup at Sunflower Hostel Rimini, Italy

The problem is that it’s a drinking game that forces players to gulp down beer, albeit in small quantities, and race the other team. This is fine and dandy for game day or pregaming, but it was inching towards midnight and it was Thursday. As I entertained these thoughts I realized I was already starting to feel old. Who says no to Thursday drinking? I jumped into the game. This is where the trouble started. A guy who looked about 19 told me I was hot. I told him I was too old for him. When I told him I was 25 he responded, “Oh yeah, you are too old.” Um ok, it is one thing for ME to say it, quite another for him to. I decided to ignore that last comment and file away the hot comment. I’ll take compliments from kids born in the 90s.

BUT THEN the ultimate disaster happened. A guy praised my flip cup skills. With complete pride and zero humility I told him that of course I was amazing, I went to the University of Wisconsin. He looked at me blankly and said something about the Big 10. Wow this kid was slow so I helped him out, “No, no, no, that’s not the big deal. I went to the #1 Party School in America.” His eyes light up, “Indiana is the #1 Party School! My friend goes there and they had a Playboy spread!” My jaw dropped in horror. This kid was so young that he didn’t remember the glorious reign UW Madison enjoyed as the top party school in the country. I personally knew girls who were in our own Playboy article, the photo was even shot at my boyfriend’s frat house. When I decided on Wisconsin for college every person I told immediately said something about how crazy they heard it was. Now the party-ness was in such decline that INDIANA was the Big 10 hotspot? Are you kidding me?!?!?! Wisconsin beat Indiana this year 83-20. How can kids at that school be proud enough to drink? I looked over at Kevin for help – he was old enough to remember when Wisconsin conjured up excitement over Halloween riots and Mifflin Street Block Party keg stands. At that moment I felt extremely old. I might as well have been telling my own kids about my great adventures on campus for all it meant to my fellow Flip Cup players.

I was fed up with my grandma-ness so I headed down to the dance floor. The DJ was spinning America’s Top 40 and not a soul was dancing. I grabbed some people, requested some good old European House Music and pulled out my moves. Everyone started to have a great time; the bar turned on the fog machine, the strobe lights made me yearn for my Life sunglasses, and the music had enough beat for even the worst white guy dancers to attempt to dance. Then BAM! something hit me and brought me back to reality. What hit me was my friend Cindy. Our own drunk girl tornado, once known as Liv, was ping-ponging between friends in her own style of dance and had thrown Cindy right into me. Good thing I had put my drink down by my coat! I looked around and spotted one couple moments away from having sex in a booth nearby, another couple grinding against a pillar on the dance floor, two girls stumbling to the bathroom, and my own friends hurling each other in death spins while the guys attempted to catch them in low dips. To the guys’ credit, they were doing a great job. None of them were very drunk and they were fielding the girls like baseball players during warm up. Catch and throw, catch and throw. Kevin was working over time spinning and dipping girls while trying to keep up with their inebriated rhythms. At one point Liv even punched him in the chest as part of her tornado dance move. Ah yes, college bars. Drunkies let and right, 19 year olds lost in puppy love, and enough booze for the whole bar to think they look hot doing the dance from Beyonce’s latest video.

I’m not going to say I didn’t have a good time, because I actually had an amazing time! I got to see my friends, dance my leggings off and debut my Love Culture dress. (If you don’t know what Love Culture is check out their website now! It’s like Forever 21 but the store is more organized and they have more dresses) I also don’t want to sound hypocritical. I still go out with my friends and think that Jen and I look just as good as Beyonce in “Single Ladies.” Marisa and I start drinking early when the mood strikes and I still rock Bacardi bomb shots at Paul’s and Lava. The difference is that now I get a hangover. I can’t bounce out of bed the next morning and run 3 miles like I did when I was 20. My mornings consist of searching for water and aspirin, sucking down a Pedialyte Popsicle and weighing out the pros and cons of making pancakes drenched with butter. I’m no longer in my early 20s so I guess it’s time to give in and drink a third Cosmo instead of a 5^th Jamo shot. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t suppress the 21 year old Pi Phi in me, but I can lead her down a classier, and ultimately happier path of Ketal One instead of rail vodka, one bomb shot instead of five, and a Sapphire Gimlet during Happy Hour instead of an entire pitcher of Natty Light.

For the record, Wisconsin game day will always be an exception. You can not do enough Cooley bombs or drink enough beer to celebrate the awesomeness of being a Badger.

Items In My Purse

My purse seemed to get heavier and heavier these days. It’s one of those largish (but not really big) purses girls carry around and are always digging through because their keys or sunglasses or tampons have disappeared into a black hole. I bought this particular purse in the Wednesday street market in Italy and have been using it ever since. Which is actually kind of sad considering my giant collection of designer bags. Beautiful Coach purses and Marc Jacobs clutches are going unused while my $20 Italian purse gets toted around the city. For the record the majority of my expensive bags are from designer outlets and/or silent auctions – I’m not a millionaire.

So I set about cleaning out this wonderful purse. Shock set in as I looked down at the table. Actually, all the contents didn’t fit on the table – some had spilled to the couch. If any guy has ever wondered how we fill up those huge bags, here is how it happens:

• 1 pair of socks (I was going to workout but didn’t)
• 1 pair of gloves
• Ear warmers
• 2 tubes of sun block (really not useful anymore….)
• 1 container of body butter
• 1 small bottle of face moisturizer
• 1 spare set of contacts
• 1 pack of antacids from Thailand
• 1 peanut peanut butter Kashi granola bar
• Compact
• PBR cap
• Pack of gum
• Life sunglasses
• 3 tampons
• 1 USB memory stick
• 1 chapstick
• 3 lip glosses (different colors)
• 1 top of a stir stick from Sri Lanka
• iTouch
• headphones
• cell phone
• roll of prewrap
• 1 small notebook from Thailand
• 1 mini pencil from IKEA in Italy
• 3 pens
• 1 sharpie
• 1 hair clip
• 3 bobby pins
• 1 watch
• 3 movie ticket stubs
• 1 ticket stub to Shedd Aquarium
• 2 business cards
• 1 headband
• camera
• 5 drink tickets for the club I worked at in Italy
• 1 Shaum Party card for the club I worked at in Italy
• 1 customs form from a package I shipped to My Husband
• 1 contact order form from the eye doctor
• 3 gas receipts
• 1 smaller purse – ID, money, lip gloss inside that
• 1 wallet – credit cards, money, business cards, change
• 10 quarters for parking meters
• 1 hotel key for “Air Force Inns” in Aviano
• I visitor pass for Aviano Air Base in Italy
• 1 library book

As you can see, that's a bit more than an American girl needs to get her through the day. There's not much too this post; I just figured guys would be shocked to know what can go in our purses, and girls would get a laugh because they've all been there. I did a little bit of important cleaning and now walking around with my purse isn't equivalent to working out at the gym. 

Need a Laugh? Here's 3!

Three years ago I lived with 3 girls from my sorority. It was everything you are imagining it was - we made cookies, ballroom danced in the living room, brought back firemen, took jumping photos, and recorded "Ellen." Every day. Seriously, every single day. And we had an unspoken rule - you couldn't watch it without Jen there. Well you could, but you would have to watch it again and pretend like you hadn't.

For those of you who have never watched "Ellen" then I hope it is because you live far away and don't have reliable internet access. "Ellen" is one of the funniest shows ever and it will ALWAYS put you in a better mood. That is a promise. She does everything from make dreams come true to embarrass her own crew members for our pleasure.

I bring all of this up because tonight Jen posted this video on Facebook. I watched it and during the first minute I was thinking "ha ha, ok, how is this funny for 5 minutes?" By the end I was actually laughing out loud and I may have snorted. There aren't any witnesses, but it's a possibility. If you time - and sound - you should watch this video. Then, just for good measure, I posted a hilarious video of audience members playing "Aw Snap." Just watch it and try not to pee your pants.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nppdDUbv0gU&feature=player_embedded



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pnUq75i9M2U


And just for good measure, in case you were wondering what else the show offers, here is my 2nd favorite game she plays - Blindfolded Musical Chairs

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I3bvJz7Nl-A

The Joys of Tango

I spent Saturday night having a tango/cooking lesson while the rest of the Midwest braced for a blizzard. I went into the lesson excited to cook, and very unexcited to tango. I would have been more excited to tango had there been cocktails upon arrival, but I made do with a great partner and the sense to laugh at myself. 

First of all I was not dressed up for the lesson. The night before I had rocked a new outfit, including very awesome boots that unfortunately, Satan crafted himself. I was even carried at one point. But trust me, the boots are hot. I think that if I had just had a few more drinks I wouldn’t have noticed that 5 inches is perhaps too high for me. So I just wore regular tennis shoes with jeans and a sweater for the dancing/cooking lesson. One other person wore a similar outfit – everyone else looked liked they would fit in at a fancy restaurant or hotel bar. Oh well, I can tango in tennis shoes, no problem.

Turns out it’s hard to do the sexy, sassy tango in Reebok’s. Physically it is perfectly doable, but mentally I was unprepared. Imagine that you’ve agreed to go out with a guy that you didn’t really care either way if you saw, but then it turned into the most fantastic date ever and you realize that you haven’t shaved your legs and you’re wearing something from the Pink collection, instead of the Very Sexy. As our instructor was teaching us the move where you reach back with a foot, draw a semi-circle with your toe, and then seductively step through your interlocked legs, it dawned on me that Reebok’s were not doing the job. One talented student (who I suspected was a plant…I mean we were beginners here and yet she had questions about the dance and could do all the new moves with ease) was wearing knee high black boots that looked dangerous, yet sexy. Another woman was wearing black stockings with heels, something I would normally wag a finger at, but during the tango it really worked for her. I wondered what famous tango dancers did when they found themselves in impromptu dance sessions? Perhaps if they thought they were going to a self defense seminar but it turned out to be a surprise party celebrating their dancing accomplishments. I decided a real tango dancer wouldn’t allow shoes to hold her back. She’d be sexy and sassy in whatever she was wearing.

Except it’s hard to be sexy and sassy while wearing Reebok’s and being sober. I checked the clock; damn it was 6:30pm. Nobody else seemed to be jonesing for a martini. I mentioned this to my dance partner who kind of laughed but kept his head in the game. Side step, back step, tricky corner turning step….oh no, mind wandering….I could have sworn they said there’d be cocktails at this thing. I went back to thinking about my famous tango dancer who’d been tricked into the surprise dance party – I bet she could be sexy and sassy without alcohol. Side step, rock step, back step, sexy step through step….ah, ok this is it, channel your inner famous tango dancer. Our instructor should have told us that at the beginning. My partner was definitely channeling his inner famous tango dancer.

As I relaxed a bit and allowed my inner famous tango dancer out, I realized one of the best things about the tango is that I can blame almost everything on the guy. The instructor said as much! I was supposed to have complete trust in the lead and let him take me anywhere on the dance floor. Those who know me will not be surprised that I spent the first twenty minutes checking over my shoulder, unwilling to relinquish my independence. Fortunately for my partner, this got in the way of feeling our balance and I had to give in and let him push and pull me around the floor. That pretty much ended my responsibility for anything that went wrong. I was free to dance into people because I could just look at other girl and say in an exasperated voice, “I am so sorry, he led me right into you!” Of course I never did say that because nobody really wanted to talk to the girl in Reebok’s, but the point is that I could have said it.

I also discovered that you do not have to look deeply into your partner’s eyes during the tango. In fact, for a beginner it is actually encouraged to look at their chest. This makes it easier to feel the balance or something. I decided it also makes it incredibly less awkward. I stole a few glances around at one point and discovered that half the couples were completely ignoring this instruction and were smoldering at one another. I looked into my partner’s eyes and started laughing. No, not at him, at myself. I was having a hard time channeling my sexy, sassy, famous inner tango dancer while feeling the balance, giving up my independence, attempting toe circling in sneakers and then making eyes at my partner. I went back to looking at his chest and thinking about martinis.

After an hour it was time to stop dancing and start cooking. But wait! I just started to do the sliding up the leg move! Our instructor turned the music off. I frowned. Sexy, sassy, famous inner tango dancer frowned. I had learned a handful of steps and could actually do it! I had forgotten about my shoes and my jeans and the lack of alcohol - sexy, sassy famous inner tango dancer wanted more! My partner wanted more too; his inner tango dancer was equally crestfallen. Our instructor dismantled the iPod speakers and the chef called us into the kitchen. I thanked our teacher and began mentally preparing outfits for my next tango session. Yes, that’s right – I will definitely be doing it again! Sexy, sassy famous inner tango dancer already Googled it and figured out where to put the new skills to the test next weekend. Best part? It advertises a signature Tango Martini available during the 4-hour dance session.

What I think I can accomplish next weekned:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSdppc6HU84

Challenge of the Week

I have a fun one for everyone this week. Very easy too:

Visit a new restaurant or bar this week.

It's so easy to get into a routine of visiting your favorite pizza place or the bar where everyone knows your name. Mix it up this week and visit some place new. I know everyone can think of at least one place they've driven by and thought, "I want to go there sometime." It's time to do it!