Waiting For The Other Ball To Drop

Here in Halfglassistan, we have no problem admitting to the incessant occasional lifestyle of flirtation with procrastination. We know our flaws weaknesses well.

And sometimes we declare a state of procrastination for the greater good.

Go ahead, judge if you will. We're also well aware of the concept of rationalization, so we're way ahead of you.

In fact, while we're discussing various -ations, let me get to my point: We are in anticipation of our New Year's celebration.

Yes, I know it's already January 5. Yes, I know that for the vast majority of the world, real life began yesterday.

Guess what? When you're not receiving a regular paycheck and have no office other than the one above your garage to report to unconventionally employed as I am, you can make up the rules as you go.

Jealous much?

I didn't think so, but it makes me feel not at all a wee bit better to imagine you are.

Besides, being unconventionally employed as I am, I actually worked NYE, NYD, and straight through into the wee hours of the third day of this new decade.

Take that, bitches. (Eh. Not really. I actually enjoyed what I was working on and the bowl scene sucked. A "take that, bitches" just kinda felt appropriate with the snark I had going. Carry on.)

So, in light of the great-debilitating-emesis-worse-than-four-months-of-chemo that was inflicted on Mr. J after I unwittingly brought said evil into TWHQ, we toasted at midnight December 31 with Gatorade.

And that, my friends, just will not cut it after the year we've had.

So. Go ahead to your offices. Go ahead and start your diets. Go ahead and lace up those sneakers. Go ahead and start making (and breaking) all your resolutions.

Until next Monday, we're gonna party like it's 2009.

Take that, bitches. (Hmmm? What's that? Oh. Yeah. Yeah, that one I meant.)