New Year's Eve

I'm still not getting the hand of this blog thing.  I don't have time to write anything worth-while.
So next topic is New Years Eve.

My plans were to go out to Povlitski's with Lori, Judy and Jean.  Jean ended up needing to work.  Who the hell schedules people to work on New Year's Eve.  Target, that's who.  Dumba$$e$.  We went there last year and got one of the last tables available.  In the back, an exceptable view, but got stuck next to a grump Santa.  This year we'd get there earlier and get a better seat.  No such luck.

Lori and Judy got there 2 hours before the band was to take the stage and all the tables were already reserved.  Note to other people: don't reserve tables for other people unless they are going to show up.  Some tables didn't have any people sitting by them, not once all night.  We got stuck sitting at a high top next to the pool tables.

I would have thought "That's where the cute guys are", so I'm all in.  If you're going out with your girlfriends and want to flirt with guys, they aren't going to be on the dance floor.  Guys don't dance unless they have a girlfriend dragging them out. They're going to be shooting some pool.  I usually am all for the flirtiness, but not this time.  I just wanted to hang with my girls.

So we're just talking and bopping to the music, and old, smelly men would not leave us alone....all night.  They smelled like perio-breath took a bath in a bag a used chew.  (My dental peeps will appreciate this.) Yuck!  One guy came over to set up his horn-dog of a buddy with Lori.  After a couple of minutes, and sniffs, she left me alone at the table with the two of them!  Some friend.  I couldn't help but pray "Please, God. Please have someone save me."

No one came.  And they didn't get the hint by the silent treatment.  We had to wait them out for their smoke-break.  It was time to discuss our contingency plan.  When one of us saw them, we would bolt to the dance floor and get lost in the sea of people.  And we'd stay on the other side of the bar....avoiding them.  When that didn't work, we'd talk to the 2 couples at the table next to us and act like we were playing pool with them.

As we were doing all of this, we had to watch for other people's pool sticks.  The high tops were just close enough that if you got up too quickly, you'd get poked with a pool stick, ruining someone's shot.  It was one big disaster.  I should have just stayed home and watched the annoying Ryan Seacreast do the countdown in NYC.

Happy New Year's everyone.  It can only go up from here.