By 11 AM I'll be driving home from work to catch the Houston Cougar bowl game on Television. After that I'll be involved in a mish-mash of family time, firework watching, eating, dog-panic attack control and heavy drinking. Tomorrow morning I'll be drinking Bloody Mary's and watching flowers roll down the street in Pasadena. Then I'll veg in front of the TV and watch football all day.
Friday I'll hop out of bed and attempt to convince myself that 2009 will somehow be a different animal than 2008 has been. We'll all do it. We make up our list of 'resolutions' only to see them go by the wayside on the first news that The State Fair of Texas is bringing their show on the road and, well...you just HAVE to have Chicken Fried Bacon ONE time before you pass on to the hereafter. In short: Resolutions suck. New Year's resolutions even moreso. Who needs a marketing ploy dreamed up by Gym owners in order to see a post-holiday bump in memberships? With the way the economy's going I wouldn't be all that surprised to hear New Year's Resolution making has been downsized by 33%, a la the workforce at AT&T.
So, when you wake up tomorrow in a alcohol-induced fog contemplating the meaning of the phrase "my hair hurts" take a look at the seven pink dwarves in the corner trying to organize your sock drawer and tell them to back off. You like having to fish through that mess every morning, squinting at two dark blobs in the half-light, finally settling on a pair that might, sorta match only to discover, to your horror, in a meeting with your boss that one is blue with gray stripes and the secondis black paisley with the embroidery of a topless hula dancer on one side. It's OK, you didn't really want that big promotion, not in this economy. The bigger they are the harder they fall right? Let the 20 something recent College grad have that high exposure position with the big pay and the hefty car allowance. You'll be pecking away at your hum-drum job long after he's left for the next executive retreat. Sucker.
Yup, New Year's Day is upon us and America is swaddled in the warm, soft, chenille bathrobe of HOPE. Because in the famous words of one, over-eager, Obama supporter: "I won't have to worry about putting gas in my car, I won't have to worry about paying my mortgage, you know, if I help him, he's gonna help me." I don't know about you, but that brings a smile to this ol' blogger's hard, unsensitive heart. If that doesn't do it for you, here's a recipe for a little drink called Red Hope:
Ingredients
1/2 cl Apricot Brandy
2 cl Gin
1 cl Creme de Bananes
10 cl Lemon Juice
1 dash Strawberry Syrup
Red Hope Directions
Blend, pour into a collins glass half-filled with crushed ice, and serve.
If that doesn't warm your hard heart, I suggest straight Bourbon shots, or Tequila, but only in the case of an emergency.
Happy New Year LaE readers, be safe, don't drive drunk, and don't forget to give to your favorite charity next year to the best of your ability. Hope aside, they're going to need it more than ever.





