My least favorite holiday, is Christmas.
My most favorite, holiday is New Years Eve.
I like to drink. I like to be silly. I like feeling like December 31st of any year is the last year of my life so I might as well go balls-to-the-wall for a night. I get to dress up (it’s a great excuse to wear sequins), I get to buy champagne and drink it straight from the bottle using a straw, without being judged.
When my parents leave town to celebrate the new year, I throw a party. But I’m not a good party-planner. I stress out and make threatening text messages when people try to bring other people who bring more people than they need. I overcompensate for the safety and security of the objects in my home with “do-not-touch” post-it notes, and make sure everyone knows where the bathroom is because I assume they will all vomit profusely.
I can’t relax. Lindsey, my best friend from college, shoves a bottle of cheap champagne in front of my face. “Drink. People will come. It will be fun.”
I follow her directions and chug down the sparkling wine.
The party turns out to be a raging success. There’s tons of food and a bottle of vodka infused with green olives. Patrick brings over fourteen bottles of champagne. Joe hooks up with his cousin’s girlfriend’s sister. We play drinking games, wear silly hats, and at midnight all run out into the street screaming like maniacs. No one gets so sloppy they are embarrassing. Well, except for one friend who drank too much champagne and puked all over my shower curtain. No big loss though – that can be cleaned up.
Festive? You bet.