Monday, January 05, 2009

2009: The Year of Make Your Own Fun!

Well, hello you! Happy 2009, you poor unfortunate so and so. Did you have a Happy New Year? What's that? You did? You didn't? It doesn't matter either way I'm going to tell you about my New Year's celebrations and you can live vicariously through my tales and that will be good news for you! Right? Of course right.

Where ever do I start? Let's start at the beginning.

Much like every other year, as the close of 2008 approached I was bombarded with invitations to celebrate the coming New Year with friends and fans. This year however, I felt like the tone of the invitations had more of a topical twist to them as glossy invitations coaxed me to attend events like The Cox Family New Year's Celebration & Liquidation Sale - 2008 MUST GO!, and Hal & Betty Jean Are Newly Hobos Pub Crawl & Recycling Drive. Yes friends, this year seemed a bit bleak to most. Luckily for me I live in a Zoloft-induced haze which gives life the constant feel of a Barbara Walters interview -fuzzy and warm with pleasantly speech-impedimented conversation.

Due to being filled with holiday cheer and anti-depressants, I figured I would rebuff the poor people and opt for something a little calmer, a little more folksy. The answer: A dinner party.

Sadly, no one I knew was having such a soiree. Undeterred by this minor set back, I dressed in my finest navy blazer and went door to door throughout Astoria until I found people who were having a dinner party. Luckily for me, (2) hours into my search I stumbled (or as the police report would later recount "kicked") in the door of stately Justin & Shanna who, unfortunately for them, are not as good at shutting doors on unwanted guests as I am at barging in on surprised party hosts! Hooray for hospitality!

Believe me you their feelings of violation were quickly replaced by what can only be described as gratefulness. How did I turn the tide so quickly? Two words: I am a people person. What's that? That's more than two words? Well, I majored in musical theatre not rocket science, Mr./Ms. Smarty Word Counter Person, so piss off.

From my earliest days in Ohio I learned two things. First, always make yourself useful. Second, when you take your bed pan out in the morning make sure you dig a hole to put the poo in if you went #2 the night before. Close adherence to these principals taught me to immediately assist with the preparation of the food, and then to seek out their bed pans.

My horror-stricken profoundly attentive hostess had prepared the most succulent pork roast which needed to be harvested so as be served to the guests. Now, as we all know, any schmuck can take a carving knife and slice meat into thin, consumable slices.

"Aren't you worried about the choking hazard?" I inquired of my hostess.

"Not really," she replied.

"Well, I am." With that, I began biting off chunks of pork, chewed them for (6) seconds, and spit them on the plate. At first the lady of the house was aghast as partially digested pieces of pig splattered on the serving tray. However, after I gingerly explained to her that the only way to assure bite-sized pieces was to take actual bites, she seemed to "get it." So much so in fact that she told Justin she needed to go make an emergency call. I can only imagine it was to share my revolutionary technique with others.

Dinner was served, but no one seemed to want any pork. They totally ate all the brie concoction that Justin had made, but with the exception of me chowing down, not a morsel of couchon was plated. Shanna seemed a tad upset by this so I reassured her that it was probably just that her presentation was crap, and she should use more rosemary or accent it with sprigs or some shit to make it more appealing. With this, she started crying, rocking, and comically mumbling something like, "you've ruined everything, you've ruined everything..." What a jokester.

After dinner I (once again) took the initiative, and popped in that traditional New Year's song, Strokin' and let the dance party begin.

I thought the Dance, Dance Revolution was going really well, and I was just about to launch into my signature move, the Punching Monkey, when all the sudden the cops burst into the room! Evidently, Shanna's "emergency call" was not to share my pork presentation proficiency! Betrayed, I pulled a Claude Rains and hopped out an open window and gave chase!

My mind was racing as I ran down 31st Street, the sound of barking police dogs ringing in my ears. "Where to go?" There was only one place to go:


Granted sanctuary inside the emerald walls, I was given a beer, a hug and a kiss from Sondra. She then smuggled me into an orange truck which provided safe passage to Mexico where I have been renamed Miguel and am working as a successful restaurateur. ¡Próspero Año Nuevo de Sunny México!

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