9 Minutes

I'm leaving in nine minutes to celebrate the New Years at several venues across New York City. I am never terribly excited by this holiday; it seems, like Halloween, to be just an excuse for a lot of people to get slutty and drunk. Also, what exactly am I celebrating? Jesus's birth? Not for us Jews, we're in the Year Of Our Lord 7,000 or something.

Part of my New Years' resolution involves going out and forcing myself to socialize, so all this falls neatly into my plans. Leaving my house is a Herculean task usually, especially to 'go out and do stuff'. Usually leaving involves going to a dark bar to get drunk, go to someone's house to get drunk or play poker to get drunk. But when I have to dress up to get drunk, problems ensue. I seem to have cultivated a comfortable 'crap' look for myself, and I truly hate messing that up.

So kudos to you, Jebus H. Christ. Congratualtions on being born and dying for all our sins. We will honor you by getting drunk and hooking up with strange women in your name. O, thank ye, Jebus, thank ye Lord. Now let's get plastered!


UPDATE:
I was informed by several people this evening that the New Years has nothing to do with Jebus's burfday. That's Christ-mass. My bad.