So, at last, it’s the dawn of another year: “Twenty eighteen” …it kind of rolls off the tongue (well, not really). My twenty seventeen was less than ideal, but I know this will be a much better year. Which isn’t saying much, since the bar has been set pretty damn low. The highlight of last year was probably the very last day, New Year’s Eve, when I got to scurry over to my cousin Sam’s wedding reception!
I was fortunate enough to see the very beautiful and always upbeat Sam
Nolan Wolfe, along with her handsome and charismatic groom, Brian. I also enjoyed spending time joking and catching up with the rest of my family at the wedding. For a while now, I haven’t had the energy or mental capacity to reconnect with people individually, so it was nice to kill a lot of Nolan’s with one stone, so to speak. Going forward, I am hoping I have more energy and opportunities to hang with them and other friends and family—but with less stoning involved.
Following the wedding, I decided to continue the party with some friends. Yes, I have friends; no, they weren’t paid (very much anyways). Since it was New Year’s Eve, I figured I deserve to let loose and finish the year off with a bang! My buddies were kind enough to wheel me around downtown seeing as I didn’t have the energy to do much walking. We went bar hopping (or in my case “bar rolling”) all night long.
I planned on sticking to one beer, but—like in that one country song—“If I have one I’ll have thirteen, and their ain’t no in-between”. So ten beers later, I found myself hammered, beer goggles fastened tightly on, and hitting on an attractive, recently single, girl. I was surprised to learn (the hard way) that this girl was, in fact, a guy. I took a big swing, and there wasn’t even a pitcher (maybe just a pair of baseballs). But I stepped back up to the plate, turning my sights to a different woman just across the bar.
My friends called her over, and as I courted her, I couldn’t help but admire her shiny high heels, long tan legs, beautiful red dress, curly blonde hair, protruding Adam’s apple… wait what!? Yup, once again… a guy. Now most people would have accepted defeat at this point, but not me. I made another move thinking, “maybe third time’s the charm…?” Nope, another guy. Man, this trans movement is really picking up steam! Or maybe I should start rethinking my sexuality?
I ended the night passing out on the wood floor of my buddy’s condo. I awoke with a half empty bottle of bourbon in one hand and a coyote that I must have drunkenly invited in (mistaking it for a lost dog), tugging at the sleeve of my other hand. It would have been a legendary night… if it had happened. In reality, I was lying in bed sipping on lemon water and watching TV, the nightly news to be more specific. I watched with amusement as the anchors’ coverage focused on all the “firsts” of the year.
The segment began with the joyous announcement that “the first baby of 2018 was born!”. Later in the hour, there was the somber reporting that the first homicide of the year had occurred… No, the first baby wasn’t the first homicide of the year! Though initially I thought the same thing. Fortunately that wasn’t the case, as I eventually saw one of the reporters interview the family of that first baby. Watching, I couldn’t help but feel bad for those babies born just before the new year. Boy—or girl—did they get shafted! If they could have just hung on (literally) for a few more minutes, they could have been crowned with the prestigious title of “First Baby of 2018”. Though heavy lies the crown…
The first day of 2018 kicked off another season of The Bachelor, the 22nd, if you can believe it. I have to admit I am a shameless viewer of The Bachelor (and incidentally, shameless viewer of Shameless). I realize the show
can be is shallow and overdramatic, but I find it strangely entertaining and funny to watch. Recently they introduced this spinoff series, called Bachelor in Paradise, where old contestants are gathered together and sent to exotic beaches for a second chance to “find love”—at least that’s what the show claims. In reality, the producers are just throwing the remaining shit on the wall to see what sticks.
The only other reality show I have watched recently is Married at First Sight, which is exactly what it sounds like: Two people meet on the altar for the first time, get married, go on a honeymoon, and spend the next three month trying to live together. It seems like a horrible idea (and it is), but they are matched by “experts” and coached all along the way. The show is oddly similar to the Bachelor but completely in reverse. Instead it starts out with a marriage, then you get to watch the relationship slowly fall apart as they find out more about each other.
Currently, I am looking forward to watching the upcoming winter Olympics, hosted by none other than South Korea. Given the current geopolitical landscape, I couldn’t imagine a worse place to gather international diplomats and celebrity athletes, than just over the border of the unpredictable, totalitarian, rocket-launching regime that is North Korea. But hey, it will make the competition that much more intense!
All in all, I am hopeful that 2018 will prove to be a pivotal year for my health so I won’t have to waste so much time watching TV. In fact, I have a dream that one day I will no longer even own a TV, because I will be too busy out living life!