By ANDREW FLYNN, Managing Editor
Welcome to The Daily Damn’s second year of publishing! Remember that all posts are for 18+ and reader discretion is advised. It’s going to get loud.
Depending on the company that you keep and the experiences you’ve had up until now, this could very well be the last year on this planet. Or yours, anyways.
New Year’s Eve is a celebratory time of year where you can do pretty much anything you want with the last 365 calendar days. Hate it, love it, or booze it all away into a 12-hour blackout for anyone really cares, it’s up to you. That is, of course, unless you’re in prison, and then you have to resort to getting plastered off of ketchup-based toilet wine.
Yeah, I just threw up in my mouth a little too. Much like those that don’t know how to behave when consuming larger amounts of alcohol. This isn’t your holiday, amateurs.
Not only is it a chore to be around those who can’t contain their liquor intake on holidays that are designed to be nothing but jovial and free-spirited, it’s a detriment. Most of us work hard enough throughout the year that the times that we get to celebrate with our nearest and dearest are few and far between, so when it’s time, it’s fucking time to just be with those and enjoy the hell out of the hours you have with your people.
The great majority of us all are totally done with the high holidays of Christmas, Chanukah, and Etcetera at the end of the year. We look for the moments of pure elation on New Year’s Even, and that one special moment when the clock strikes midnight in our particular time zone, and damn it all to the center of the existence if you’ve got to babysit anyone that just fucked up your potential glee.
As a youth of an indeterminate age so as to prevent self-incrimination in all respects, I’m guilty of this too, so the author doesn’t get off scott-free here. I’ve been the problem on more than a few occasions, and yes, this is a right of passage for most of us, to be that problem pain-in-the-ass drunken asshole who exhibits no bodily control whatsoever, but the time has passed and I’m not in my teenage years anymore.
And if you heed none of this request, I really hope you’re out on the street tonight, with the idiots who feel they have to celebrate by trying to find that last booth that hasn’t sold out of the nine-dollar cup of Bud Light Piss. It’s a huge pain, doing New Year’s like this. You bring ten people, they all want to go in different directions, you smoke too much, don’t drink enough, and those that do drink enough become the liabilities, and you end up tired as shit after having walked around for five miles. And then it’s 3AM and you’re still on the street because you didn’t have a plan.
I don’t have all the answers, just the experiences that have made me who I am today. The things I do know are few, but one of them is to have a plan on New Year’s Eve. Whatever you end up doing, be safe. Safety, while not so much at the forefront of the minds of youth, is crucially important to actually have the best time possible. It’s a wise move to surround yourself with friends and family (although co-mingle the two sparsely if you can) who are more experienced with the joys and various idiosyncracies of enjoying alcohol.
On the morning after, you’ll be able to say you had a great time. Which is the entire point of the holidays.
And that’s my giving a damn.