First of all, my New Years Eve sucked.
I had to work until 9pm, inhale something resembling food, change clothes, slap on a little make up and trot over to the ever so trendy dive bar, The Bikini Lounge, which happens to be directly across the street from my apartment.
We were there the night before with some of my husband's old friends, one who had come from out of town and he hadn't seen in many years. It was a pretty good night. The out of town friend was very nice, and one of her friends who dropped by to see her before she left town again was cute and amusing and I very much liked her. We convinced them to come back for the next night and anybody who needed could always crash on our couch since we literally live 5 minutes on foot from the bar.
A few of us got drunk and use a Sharpie marker to draw all over everybody willing.
This is what happens when you let drunk people have a Sharpie.
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Ok, back to new years.
They didn't show, just to get that out of the way.
This tiny little kitsch tiki bar is stuffed with every hipster for miles. Drinks are had and we try to find a place to stand that is at least some what out of the way. Eventually a little table opens up, but it's right next to the shitty hack DJ who playing the absolute worst bullshit. I would have been way more happy with the jukebox, personally. I get two drinks in and I'm just not having fun. I looked cute though. Wish I had a picture actually. I get up to go to the bathroom and after waiting forever in the tiny cramped, stinky, one stall closet of a bathroom, I finally get my turn... but I'm in for a little surprise. I got my fucking period. I had luckily brought my purse with me and had plenty of supplies on hand. I go to put a pad on and someone is knocking on the door. "occupied!" I shout over the din of whatever lame pseudo-funk song is currently blasting. A minute later, another knock and I yell the same even louder. I still have my tights around my knees, sitting there trying to arrange a mini-pad on my underwear, and then the door busts open. I scream every expletive imaginable and the door slams shut again almost instantly.
I know I shouldn't have been as upset as I was, but it was the last straw. I get back to my husband at the table and announced that I want to go home. But it's only 30 minute til midnight and the bar starts handing out the $1 mini champagne bottles. He offers to get them, but as he stands up he bumps the table and spills his drink everywhere. Again, not that big a deal, but knowing I was already pissed off he freaks out and makes a huge scene about it. Doubly embarrassed now because he doesn't seem to understand why I hate squabbling with him in public and starts to make a scene. I grab my coat and head for the door. After shoving my way through the crowd to the front door, the bouncer won't let me out. Says I have to go out the back door. I have to fight my way through the crowd again and finally exit onto the street and stomp home with him trailing and trying to make the entire thing about him. He can't see why I'm upset over the invasion of privacy, but in typical male fashion thinks I want him to fix it or something, instead of just understanding that something pissed me off, and it wasn't him and no he can't undo it cause it has nothing to do with him. This is something he ALWAYS does and it irritates me to no end, and despite repeated attempts at explaining to him that me being upset or talking about something that bothers me is not the same as me asking him to fix my problems or offer solutions. It's a stupid, annoying guy thing.
So here we are walking down the street, and it's 20 til midnight and he's shouting and there are people on their patios and balconies and I am hissing at him to shut up and 'fuck you' and all that but he just keeps yelling. I can't fucking stand this. Add that to the heap of embarrassment I already feel. I storm inside and throw my coat and purse on the floor and lock myself in the bathroom, having not really planned this out very well. He's still yelling and I am shouting back at him, and I decide I'm just going to take a bath. I start running the water and he's still yelling but I can't really hear him anymore. It goes quiet as I get into the bath and I hear the front door shut.
I am really crying at this point and before too long I hear the sporadic cracks of fireworks and party poppers. It's midnight. And I'm alone and crying in a bathtub. I can only cry harder.
It's quiet again, except for sporadic fireworks and my own ragged breathing and that quiet sucking sound a bath tub makes when its drain doesn't have a good seal and the occasional dog barking.
Blessed quiet.
I start thinking about resolutions. Cliche as it is. I almost get up to grab the only writing implement in the room, an eye liner pencil, to write a few things on the shower wall, to remember them.
I can hear my phone ringing in the other room. I ignore it.
This is how it always goes. We get into a big fight, one of us storms out (usually me, as I appreciate the value of space and time to cool down and clear one's head during this sort of thing) and 20 or 30 minutes later, he's blowing up my phone with calls or texts. It's always sweeping apologies and 'everything I do is to make you happy' and blah blah blah. It's always the same. I always want to say 'maybe you should reevaluate your methods cause they clearly aren't working', but I never have the heart. I know he means it sincerely and he really does try, but he never actually listens to me. If he did we wouldn't always be having different versions of this same fight over and over again.
After the 5th phone call, I get up and fetch my phone from the other room.
I don't even remember what was said. And it doesn't matter cause even though we made up and he came home, I know he didn't listen to me. We're going to have this same fight in 6 months.
He comes home, bringing me my favorite bottled ice tea and a tiny bag of beef jerky (one of my guilty pleasures). I ask him if he wants to watch a movie in bed, and we settle on Joss Whedon's Much Ado About Nothing (I got him the dvd for xmas).
We watch the movie and go to bed.
And that was my new years.
The next day I wrote down some of the resolutions I thought of, and my best friend stops over to drop off her dog's old x-pen so my rabbit can finally have a larger living space. She also gave me a second Christmas present, two of those cute POP figurines, Bilbo and Gollum from The Hobbit. 😍
I don't know why she did that since she had already given me a really cute Threadless t-shirt with a panda on it.
After eating half the chocolate in our candy dish, she's off again. And the husband and I go to Shortleash, a gourmet hotdog restaurant near our place. I have the beloved Mac Daddy, which is a hot dog (or bratwurst in my case) on naan bread with what they say is mac n cheese, but is really penne alfredo. On the dog. It's fucking amazing (It also normally comes with chili on it, but I opt out of that).
In closing this post, here are some of the resolutions I wrote down on New Years Day:
- Take better care of skin, hair, & nails
- Lose some weight
- Play more racquet ball
- Make doctor's appointments
- Take more baths
- Paint nails more often
- Get around to dying your hair like that picture you saved (dark turquoise kind of ombre)
- More yoga
- Less internet, more creativity
- Take more photos
- Try to blog everyday
- Learn to sew, using sewing machine
- Stop biting nails
- Get more tattoos
- Read more
- Be better about housework
- Eat out less, cook more, eat better
- Find a job you hate less
- Figure out why you are so sad all the time
- Try to make yourself happy
- Be the person you want to be
- Make art
- Finish Jarrod & Presley's Christmas stockings
- Sleep more , sleep better
- Start Etsy shop
- Stop being so scared, self conscious
- More confidence
- Save money
- Pay back dad
- Watch more movies
- Spend more time with Matthew (my little brother)
- Don't waste time on those who do not deserve it
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