12.30.2009

My Buddy, My Buddy, My Buddy and Me!

I can’t believe New Year’s Eve is barreling down upon us already. So much has happened in 2009, it’s hard for me to put it into words.

And I don’t plan to. Simple as that. You all know what happened in 2009. I’m 97% sure you were also there. So what can I do for you to close out your 2009 since I’m not humorously wrapping up the year? Probably nothing. New Years, like Halloween, is one of those holidays with a disproportionate fun to planning ratio. [Editor's Note: I (Meg) could not disagree with this statement more if I were being paid to. The traumatic heinousness that is New Year's Eve has absolutely nothing to do with the majesty of Halloween. Chris has meth psychosis. That is all.] It’s like the more work you put into planning your night, the less fun you’re going to have. In short, we should all stay home with our cats, read a book, maybe play some Sudoku, and drink tea to celebrate. But you and I both know that’s not going to happen.

As is tradition for me, I plan to black out around 11:59, just seconds before the ball drops. Then pretend to have known where I was when Baby New Year came kicking and screaming into our lives (answer: at the bar getting drink number 972 billion of the night, drunk texting the world some illegible variation of “Happy New Year”). The best part of this tradition is definitely the morning after because the calibre of my misadventures increases significantly on New Years Eve. New Year’s Day is like a scavenger hunt, where I spend all day going from one person to the next finding clues as to what I did the night before. I like to think of it as Supermarket Sweep, except instead of finding riddles about Philadelphia cream cheese in the bread aisle, I’m finding fragments of my shame in the gutters of New York City.

One particularly poignant New Years Eve was spent with our dear Meg McBlogger. To ring in 2008, we met up with Meg’s friend at a bar on the Upper West Side. The price was right and it was a solid plan, so I was 100% down. Cut to NYE circa 10:30, when we trek out from the depths of Brooklyn, to what ends up being borderline Harlem. No worries though because we both were looking good, feeling good, ready to close this year out with style.

Well. Ladies and gentlemen, I was a wittle hasty with my drink, and my memory from this night abruptly ends approximately after saying hello to Meg’s friend. That does not, however, mean that my night ended. Noooooo, far from it. I have this irritating (or amazing) ability to function LONG after my brain shuts down. I only found out about what I did the next day, after waking up on top of my covers in my clothes from the night before.

What I found out is this: I proceeded to THOROUGHLY liquor myself up as the night wore on, which led me to make out with everyone in the bar when the ball dropped. When that party winded down, Meg, her friend, and I decided to hit up a party in Brooklyn. As soon as I exited the cab, I promptly vomited all over the entire borough. Meg, being the saint that she is, realized my level of intoxication, and attempted to flag a cab down to take us home. Being that we lived just north of Satan’s asshole, no cab would take us, until Meg showed a little leg and a lot of chest to some gypsy cab driver. Unfortunately for her, I turned into what she calls “Legs”, meaning my drunk legs kicked in, and I had ambled away somewhere. That somewhere happened to be passed out standing up leaning against the corner between two buildings. Safe. After much cajoling, convincing me a brick wall is not a good sleeping surface, we get into the cab and home safely. SCENE. For me, the retelling of this story is infinitely more fun than actually experiencing it. I’m sure my drunk mind was just picturing a monkey in a top hat riding a unicycle all night.

So what am I trying to get across with this story? Obviously I’m not trying to lead by example. If that were the case, we’d have a situation on our hands. The point is to try and have fun on the night of New Year’s, and you can’t do that when you’re blackout drunk. What if you meet the most amazing guy/girl and have the best sex, but you don’t remember it when you wake up because after you were finished, you wandered away?

This is why I propose the New Year’s Eve buddy system. It’s like a middle school field trip, but with less learning, more adult beverages, and equal amounts of awkward. Naturally, unless you are a lone wolf, you’ll be going out on the town with at least one friend on NYE. Great, now you have your buddy. And what you and your buddy are going to do is, well, everything together. You should be able to scream “BUDDY CHECK!” at any point during the night and get some sort of response from your buddy. A head nod, a wave, the middle finger. Any reaction will suffice. Another beer? BUDDY CHECK! If you’re buddy acknowledges you, then you’re good to go. It’s flawless.

This can also work to prevent some terrible life choices from being made. If you see your friend typing furiously on his/her cell phone all night, you can yell BUDDY CHECK and cockblock that booty text message to the ex at 1 AM. See your friend heading out the door with a fuggo? BUDDY CHECK and you make some excuse to nip that prescription for Valtrex in the bud.

Let’s say you do happen to meet that dream guy/girl and you want to have that amazing sex that you won’t remember. You and your buddy call your final check so you can talk it out. If your buddy approves (after all, two pairs of beer goggles are better than one, right?) then off you go into the wild, wild world.

It’s a win-win situation to me. I know that I would still be asleep in an alleyway in Brooklyn if it weren’t for Meg. Without a buddy, that could be you. And we wouldn’t want you to start out the New Year in a ditch.

In conclusion, I hope that each and every one of you has a great New Year and you all get laid and get drunk and be merry and all your wildest dreams come true. Thanks for reading and I love you all and I’ll see you in 2010!

23 comments:

2 Birds, 1 Blog: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

Not only did I spend the better part of that NYE trying to laso you out of your own death, I spent the next day making you Digiorno pizzas I got at the gas station because everything else was closed and you were uniquely still drunk/hungover. GOD I'M A GOOD FRIEND! And attractive. An attractive good friend. It's just my cross to bear.

emily said...

"after all, two pairs of beer goggles are better than one, right?"

amen to that! happy new year to 2b1b, and thanks for being what i most look forward to just about every day. is that horribly sad or just the biggest compliment? :)

Virginia said...

I feel your pain! On NYE 2006 I blacked out around 10pm, lost the entire contents of my purse and woke up the next morning face-down on my boyfriend's bed, fully clothed in my NYE "get-up", thinking someone had broken into his townhouse when I went downstairs to get a ginormous glass of water. Only to find out my bf had kicked the door in the night before(while I sat spread-eagle in the front yard crying because I'd lost his keys). And that on the way home in a cab I'd shrieked "OMG I LOST MY CELLPHONE!" only to find after a frantic search that it was in my lap. I was 100% convinced someone had ruffied me until we went back to the bar to pick up said keys and the bartender had the following convo with my bf: "Dude, your girlfriend is AWESOME!". Boyfriend: "What? I mean, yeah, but why?" Bartender: "She drank an entire bottle of Jim Beam in an hour! I have never seen anyone do that!". Ouch. I think the Buddy System could have saved me. If only I'd had your sage advice back then...you are indeed wise beyond your years.

Nate said...

Oh man I need the buddy system on New Years Eves...

Last year I woke up on New Years Day shivering, sans jacket, on a random ass couch in the middle of an alley somewhere in Chicago.

Because I am awesome.

And no, I will not tell the story of that night. I choose to let it remain firmly repressed somewhere in my psyche.

Anonymous said...

I tried this buddy sytem! During an infamous kickball game, I chugged a ton of hop-skips (hop-skip-and-go-naked, skippies, whatever you want to call it) and appointed a "buddy" to watch over me. I told him to be my "watchman" and make sure I didn't go home with anyone because I knew I would go home with just about anyone in a very short amount of time. Unfortunately, he was already intoxicated and replied "wingman? yeah dude, I'll hook you up" "no, no, I said watchman, its the opposite, don't le-" "WINGman, I GOT IT, i said I'll hook you up!" The next thing I know I'm waking up all alone in a random bedroom with none of my stuff. Apparently I did go home with a girl, and apparently I went to the bathroom in the night and got lost on the way back, ending up in her roommates bed. Luckily her roommate was gone that weekend. Buddy system FAIL!

2 Birds, 1 Blog: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

is that horribly sad or just the biggest compliment? :)
Biggest compliment!

pam said...

hahaah i die laughing.

RetroTrasher said...

ok the "monkey in a top hat on a unicycle" just about killed me (I have a cough and it's a-hacking)

also, I enjoy reading others stories as now I don't feel so bad for last years new years eve where I blacked out right after the clock struck midnight.
I learned months later how I apparently begged my friend (WHO HAD A GIRLFRIEND) to kiss me.
Also I had leg brace on and wound up getting kicked out of a cab and stumbling my way down a street in the WRONG DIRECTION for probably an hour only to end up in one of the worst neighborhoods at 3am.
thank god for friends with cars who answer phone calls.

Anonymous said...

I ALWAYS use the buddy system and ALWAYS have numerous people explain the previous night's actions to me in the morning

honestly, your NYE sounds just like almost every weekend of my life...does that mean I have a problem?

Anonymous said...

the weather's always complete shit (this year's no exception), cabs are impossible, bajillion-dollar covers.

in sum, NYE is the pits--regardless of relationship status. this year i was all amped up my andre-sofa snugfest, but the boy wants to go out. do i let him fend for himself?

Sarah P said...

"In short, we should all stay home with our cats, read a book, maybe play some Sudoku, and drink tea to celebrate."

EXACTLY what I plan to do. Thank you for making me feel wise.

Five minutes ago, I was thinking, "Well, another year of loserly NYE plans."

Julie said...

New Years Eve '05. My boyfriend left my party before midnight to go to a different party. Fail. Tears and large amount of beers and booze took place after he left. Soon there were only random bottles of booze that didn't have enough left in them to make a full drink. So what did me and my buddy do? No, we didn't just switch to beer. We threw them all together in the blender, added a few different flavored freeze pops, and drank that concoction down to the last drop. Insta-Black Out. Woke up in my clothes sitting on a chair in the kitchen face down on the table. Awesome.

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Christine said...

I've never even met you and I can somehow perfectly envision your Final Stumble Home of 2007. Also, I respect the buddy system you're recommending. Perhaps you can venture up to my alma mater and give the administration a few pointers? They definitely tried to force the concept of "Social Spotting" on us during freshmen orientation, but not with the same eloquence (or convincing arguments).

I think my worst NYE was in 2005, when I passed out next to a toilet at my friend's house around 10PM. After crumpling into a pile on the floor, I proceeded to vom, not in the toilet, but in my own boots...while I was wearing them. I know, I know.

The next morning, I woke up alone in my friend's eerily quite bedroom, wearing someone else's gym clothes. When I finally looked in the mirror an hour later, my first thought was, "What the fuck went so wrong last night that I'm wearing a fucking scrunchie!!?"

FIN.

As long as this year doesn't involve scrunchies, I'm going to preemptively call it a win.

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Anonymous said...

I just want to put in my 2cents about the buddy system. I'm well aware of the lack of proper drunkmonster judgement so i asked my friend to me my buddy. I thought everything went swimmingly until I checked my phone today and saw that I had called (and txted) my X-boyfriends brother as well as carrying on a riviting txt war with my 15 year old cousin. Suffice it to say the buddy system DOES NOT WORK and should not be trusted. EVER.

Jennet said...

1. I cannot believe I am only finding your blog now. I have missed SO much, apparently.

2. I have the buddy system in place, courtesy of the new, very self-controlled boyfriend. He actually suggested we stop mid-pub crawl because I couldn't feel my toes and was drinking from his friends' glasses. I mean, seriously? How ELSE am I supposed to learn random new drinks?! Hahahahaha.

i AM ok. said...

the buddy system is a MUST on new years. typically i'm the one who needs the help of said buddy but strangely enough, this year i was the "responsible one" peeling my friend katie off the pavement when she decided to face plant in the middle of broadway.

i guess my new years was a mild success this year (which is rare) other than the fact that i woke up with pizza crust in my bed and a hundred new cracks in my phone screen. oh and katie had a black eye. bummer.

Ros said...

Probably should have used this advice. My last thoughts from New Years before becoming self-aware at 1:30 are from getting in a cab around 10. Apparently I paid for it. Which is good, because my friend found $10 on the floor of the bar & used it to pay for our cab home after the Metro closed at 2 am. That $10 most likely being a part of the rest of my money I dropped along with my debit card, ID, and SmartTrip. Buddy Check = new plan.

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