champagne supernovas hungovers.

New Years Eve is upon us. It is time to shake rattle and roll some bubbly. And what a lovely way to start 2012, it is to have the worst kind of hangover known to man kind. Stars in your eyes the night of, head ache of tumorous proportions the next morn. Hey kids – how about drinking Sprite instead? It still has those nice bubbles.

Moving forward, on December 31st we do several things – we beat up ourselves for what we were unable to accomplish in the past year. Also we look for whatever sparkly options we may have in our closet for a night full of boot scootin boogying at a country western bar. I am lucky enough that I have a lot a lot of sparkles in my closet. If you need to borrow, come on by. The other option is to  buy a gallon of ice cream to cry into as we spend the night with Dick Clark watching the ball drop. I hope to bejeebus I do the latter and am tucked into bed by 10pm.

I am concocting all of my reformative plans for 2012. Out with the old and in with the new. My resolutions are here for all to see-

1. Go fishing in the dark. This is a summertime activity.

2. Throw a fondue party. I got the goods, now it’s time to melt the fromage.

3. Get my haircut. I’m getting scraggley.

That’s all you party rockers. I hope you wear very long fake eye lashes, and more importantly TOP HATS tonight. I’ve said before and I’ll say it again. Ask any man what distinguishes his wife from all the other two bit trollops on earth, and the answer always rings the same – body glitter. Get yours at any fine Walgreen’s establishment.

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