As the ball drops...

I realize that as it's only a couple of days before New Year's Eve I should, according to conventional wisdom, be dashing around trying to get the final elements for my outfit or making an appointment with my hairdresser. I should, but I'm not. Because, dear reader, in my humble opinion NYE has deteriorated into a free-for-all amateur night where the participants have to be loud, have to get drunk, and have to "party" to keep up with everyone else. It's a state of forced celebration...and where's the fun in that?

Like the teenager who's been caught smoking a single, illicit cigarette and is condemned to smoke an entire pack in one sitting...or the goose who "couldn't eat another bite" but is destined to be fois gras...regimented frivolity leaves a bad aftertaste.

And so, as in prior years, party invitations have been declined...a menu has been decided upon...a couple of bottles of decent champagne will be purchased...and Mr. Heb and I will welcome in the new year together. Had I placed my order earlier, APC's karaoke CD would probably have been added to the mix, as what better way is there to say "hello 2008!" than with an off-key rendition of "Sheena is a Punk Rocker" or "Police and Thieves"?