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Congratulations!
You have finally landed on the one page on this entire site (and on the entire internet for that matter) that is purely without bullshit... my soapbox page. There are a lot of times during our show that, whether it's because of time constraints and other obligations, I don't always get to address some issues that I feel don't get the attention they deserve. There are even more times when I just don't feel like waiting until the show the next day to get some things off my chest. Thus, I have started the "Rob's Soapbox" page. If you have clicked on this page looking for someone to coddle your fragile sense of self-esteem, or tell you what you want to hear or to reinforce your outdated world view, then exit this page right now and go somewhere else. If you are in search of the last forum for reason and common sense left in the world, then sit back, relax, and enjoy. I make only one promise with this soapbox page... if you read long enough and often enough, you will eventually be offended. So here's my latest soapbox. Listen up, 'cause you just might learn something... |
January 5 , 2004
New Year's Eve Stupidity
I broke one of my cardinal rules this year; I left the house on New Year's Eve. Many years ago, I realized that New Year's Eve is a made up holiday that caters to stupid people who get stupid drunk and do stupid things. If I had my choice, I would spend the evening with a lobster dinner, a great bottle of wine, a nice cigar, and be in my bed by 10pm. That, by the way, is exactly how my wife and I have "rung in" the New Year since we met.
This year turned out a little differently. We spent Christmas Eve and Day with some very special friends. Those same friends had already planned a New Year's Eve party, which we agreed to attend. They always put on an amazing spread, and reciprocity is part of being in real friendships.
All in all, the evening was quite fun and my wife and I (who are not accustomed to being awake past 10pm thanks to our work schedules) were able to make it to the Midnight countdown that everyone seems to care so much about.
Along the way, of course, were some truly unpleasant moments.
First of all, Dawn and her boyfriend were at the same party. Nuff said.
Secondly, at around 11pm about 8 of us had sequestered ourselves to the sofa in the family room and were enjoying the South Park marathon on TV. For no reason whatsoever, a late coming guest waddled her way over to our area and announced that it was time for us to go around the room and share each of our New Year's resolutions. What is this, fucking Summer Camp?
I ignored the intrusion but my wife, God love her, engaged the woman in a brief moment of small talk by asking "well, what's yours?" "Oh," said the Mongoloid, "I don't make them." Can you believe this? Some idiot who actually had to leave her group of friends to come interrupt all of us wanted to engage in a process of sharing resolutions when she herself doesn't even make them! My wife then ignored her and the goofball slinked away.
The colossal reminder of why I hate New Year's Eve came at 11:35, while we were all still laughing at the South Park marathon. Apparently, the thought of 8 friends having fun was too much for someone when a voice was overheard to say, "Shouldn't we be watching Dick Clark?" Now look, I understand that 10, 20, 30 years ago this was a tradition in most of our households. I know that for years most of us didn't realize that there was a 3-hour time difference between the East and West Coasts (or we just didn't care). The fact of the matter is though, it's 2004, and it's time to grow up and cut the cord. Can anyone explain to me what the thrill is about watching the ball drop when it all occurred 3 hours ago? Even the shows that emanate from Las Vegas are tape delayed. They actually celebrated the New Year at 9pm so that the almighty East Coast could be part of it live. Give me a break, will ya! Only Channel 3 locally was doing anything truly live, but somehow ringing in the New Year with Dave and Lois under the Old Town Bridge isn't my idea of a party. But as is usual in our society today, the vocal minority won out and we all sat there like idiots and counted down with Dick Clark (who, in reality was fast asleep in some posh NYC hotel room while we were making asses out of ourselves.
At 12:05 I had my coat on and it was time for my wife (the designated driver, God Bless her) to drive us home. Next year, we spend New Year's on our terms…where at the very least, I have control over the remote control.
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