Madison--So it was about seven o'clock yesterday when it dawned on me that it was New Years Eve and I had nothing planned. I'm about as broke-ass as you can get at the moment, so my options were limited. Actually, that's not entirely true, I could be broker-ass. I have precisely zero dollars, which puts me at least in the top sixtieth percentile of my friends, the majority of whom have way less than zero dollars. Nevertheless, zero dollars can buy about as much beer as negative dollars, so some planning was necessary. I had briefly considered just staying in, but then I accidentally ingested more amphetamines than I intended and staying in my room all night vibrating didn't seem too appealing. I wanted to go find someone else to vibrate. Also I'm not lame. (I suppose I'll mention now that I haven't had a New Year's kiss since 2007. Keep that in mind, it's an important plot point later. Not lame.)
Facebook to the rescue! There was a masquerade ball going on at Phoenix co-op and it started in an hour! Dang! I busted out the craft kit and started mangling a tie into an mask. A little hot glue and a few dozen googly eyes later I had a decent mask and could probably have stopped there. But by then the speed was kicking in and I ended up making a whole googly eye dress. The thing shook like a fucking maraca, it was pretty neat. A quick bit of makeup and I was out the door.
I paid the five dollar cover with three dollars in quarters and tasked myself with getting drunk enough fast enough to make out with someone at midnight. It was about 10:30 at this point. My dress, which seemed fabulous and quite loud at home, just looked like polka dots in the dim lights of the dance floor / kitchen and the throbs of dub-step drowned out any shaking to be heard. My friend Paul told me it was "too subtle." Paul is a five-foot-nothing Lady Gaga impersonator. I told him I was shocked he knew what the word subtle meant. He told me I was an asshole. Good times.
Several beers later it was suddenly 11:30 and the DJ was starting to make obnoxious comments like "Hey fellas, you got a half hour to find someone to smooch" and "30 minutes til makeouts!" and other insufferable statements along those lines. (A quick digression about DJs: And by DJs I mean the large-headphones-and-ecstasy variety, not some hipster with an iPod. There seems to be a set personality type with these people, a curious mix of out going arrogance and straight up cheese. Are they DJs because they have this personality, or do they have this personality because they are DJs?) Anyways the asshole at the turntables was right! I needed to find a lady and fast. I had been dancing with this bonnie lass earlier and was trying to track her down. I was threading my way through the crowd when all of a sudden it's HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR WITH NO COUNTDOWN OR WARNING OR ANYTHING. I was kind of flabbergasted that that cornball didn't do a countdown. And then I was super pissed that I was robbed of my one chance a year to kiss someone without consequence or explanation. Three New Years in a row without even the mildest of makeouts. Lame. I mean, I would have kissed the friggin' dog if I was given a bit of fair warning.
Crestfallen, I returned to the omnipresent comfort of beer. After a trip or three to the keg, I spotted my bonnie lass sitting on the couch by herself. Opportunity! I sat down and started chatting her up and learned that her name was, get this, Bonnie. (I really had been referring to her in my head as a bonnie lass, I'm not just clevering-up this story.) I was drunk and still on a lot of uppers and wearing a dress and makeup, so at this point I didn't really have much to lose, so I just straight up told her about my frustrations with the countdown deficient DJ and the missed opportunity to lightly sexually assault someone. Bonnie looks at me and says "fivefourthreetwooneGO!" and some heavy makeouts followed. Success! It's amazing what you can do if you put your mind to it and get incredibly drunk.
So I got her number and danced some more and generally wound down the evening. On the way out the door I saw her making out with my friend Jonas on the couch. A few years ago I would have been crushed but in my wise old age I really didn't give a shit and had a good laugh about it. A nice solid "Hah!" Plus Jonas is a polyamorus freespirit of a man who has made out with just about everyone. Hell I've made out with him. Super nice guy. Anyways despite being super-cool with it I took that as my cue to leave and headed on home.
I had misplaced my shawl somewhere but luckily it was an unseasonably warm night so I was fine. Some guy on the street called me a fag and his girlfriend practically fell over herself to apologize. I said, "Why are you apologizing? He's the asshole." which just loosened another torrent of homophobia from the bro's lips. I have really got to stop provoking frat boys when I'm in drag. One of these days I'm gonna get my teeth kicked in. This particular frat boy, however, was in no state to kick anything at all as he could barely stand and had dried vomit all over his shirt. I left the two of them to their idiocy and finally made my way to bed, where I kinda slept and had what was either a dream or an amphetamine-induced hallucination about girls with pomegranate eyes.
