Yesterday, I worked till 3 again, then drove to Anhk-Morpork. (Just for the record, that's not the same Anhk-Morpork that I went shopping in the other day, or, for that matter, the same one that I went driving in with my family last week. My fits of paranoia (for convenience, I may start referring to them collectively as "Steve") tell me that pseudonyms for the cities I mention in here are vital. Also, it amuses me to think of good ones. The trouble is, I'm having problems thinking of enough good ones. The place I live just has to be "Cowtown." Cowtown is the name of a TMBG song, and I live in Wisconsin. It's obvious. The city I grew up in is "Zenith." Mad props to my homie Sinclair Lewis. One of the nearby places should be "Anhk-Morpork" because I've been reading Terry Pratchett like a woman posessed lately. But having three "Anhk-Morporks" just might be going a little too far. If anyone out there can help me think of a few other fictional city names, I'd appreciate it. I'm drawing a total blank right now.)

So, I drove to Anhk-Morpork the Third. You know, the one where my Gramma lives. She has traditionally held her Christmas party on the Sunday after Christmas. Sometimes, that works out to be New Years. I called D. at 3. As I suspected, he was still asleep. I told him I'd be home in about 15 minutes,and he should be ready to go. He wasn't. We finally left home at about 5 minutes to 4. I'd told Gramma I was working and I'd try to be there by 4. D'oh. (Springfield! I drove to Springfield yesterday. Or, maybe it was The City, or perhaps the City of Townsville, or maybe even Gotham City. I'm pretty sure it was Springfield, though. Yes. Yes it was.) So, we pulled into Springfield about 4:15. One of my cousins had stayed home because of a dentist appointment, and that part of the family took off shortly after I'd gotten there. That sucks. Also, they'd already opened the presents. Apparently, things had kicked off at 1 or so. I understand. I wouldn't have wanted to make the little kids wait all afternoon, and besides, Randy's family did have to get home as soon as possible. It was kinda disappointing, though. You'll remember, the same thing happened last week at my uncle's house. That seemed about par for the course for that part of the family. But yesterday, these were the ones I think I enjoy hanging out with. Boo. I guess now I know. I can indeed work on Christmas, but I really should make the effort to always get the following Sunday off.

We had reservations for 5:00 at "The Old Country Buffet" (Not "Buhffay." "Buffit." As in Jimmy. That's what D. insisted on calling it, and it really is the only possible pronunciation. The fact that we had reservations there, and even that they took reservations, seemed to confuse him. "Is this Darsia?" he whispered to me. I replied, "Yes, it is. You're going to have the catfish glazed with lilacs and pine nuts. The New York Times called it 'saucy and delightful'." Then, I handed him my business card. Bone. Raised lettering. It's even got a watermark.)

Actually it wasn't too bad. "Reservations" meant that the staff let us use some sort of private dining room away from the main buffet area. We pushed a few tables together, and a good time was had by all. I ended up sitting by Lynne and D. and my cousin Laura. Admittedly, I could have gotten a seat by the people I don't see all the time, but it was good to at least talk with Laura. She's all grown up now. She'll get married in the spring, and graduate next December. She's going to be a music teacher. The shame of admitting I was still a waitress passed relatively quickly.

We stayed at the buffet for about two hours. It didn't seem nearly long enough. I know it's my own damn fault for not getting to Springfield three hours earlier, but it still wasn't long enough. Feh.

***

D. and I were back in Cowtown by 7:30. He had this idea that we should amass a screaming horde and go out to the bars. At first, that didn't sound too appealing, but I told him I'd ask around. Dante was already planning on going downtown. Vincent and Bob had no interest. Yahn and Alice weren't really interested, and besides, they told Shawn they'd do something with him, and he doesn't drink. There were many underage people over at Wedge's. The two who were of age had underage girlfriends.

Wedge lives so very far away. There was no way I'd walk there, and I knew I couldn't drive, because driving home would have been an issue. So D. and I went to try to convince Vincent and Bob to come drinking.

"Come on, guys!" said D. "It's New Years! We sit here and play video games and smoke pot every goddamn night. We need to do something different for once!"

Vincent replied, "I am doing something different. See? I'm drinking a beer."

Bob added, "And instead of playing CounterStrike, we're watching a movie."

But D. had managed to convince me. I'd never actually done the "New Year's Eve In a Bar" scene. Maybe it would be cool. So, Dante and D. and I set out.

Bert's actually looked promising. There were balloons and streamers everywhere. There was a DJ. Karin was working. We snagged the last open table. I noticed that Dick Clark was on the bar TV's. I asked exactly how this was different than watching Dick Clark on New Years at home. Both of them got quite vehement. We were being social. We were drinking. We were cool. I'd suspected as much, and really had only asked to be obnoxious. I settled back to enjoy myself.

Apparently, we weren't quite social and drinking and cool enough. D. wanted to call Scal. Dante knew her phone number spelled out "ITS 1" but Bert's phone had no letters. D. eventually figured out what the number had to be, but she wasn't home. (Yeah, you're laughing. But the next time you're drunk, try to work out something like that for yourself. The process kept us occupied for longer than you might think.)

We decided to try and find Mia. She wasn't working at Timmons. She was asleep in her apartment. We hung out there for a while. Dante pointed out that getting stoned in Mia's apartment really wasn't that different than getting stoned at his place. D. insisted it was. About 11, we all went onward. Mia stopped downstairs to use Timmons' phone and call Scal. She also had been asleep, but wished us a Happy New Year.

Dante had some sort of perverse need to stop in Red's. This is going to take a little explanation. Red's is the hick bar. It's everything a smalltown badass bar should be, only more so. Loud. Dark. Dingy. Lotta beer, and none of them fancy girly drinks. (There's the Tau legend of the night Dante was asked to leave. He tried to order a Butterball. "We don't serve no sissy drinks here, boy.") Dante was wearing a trenchcoat and hat. His hair hangs a little below his ears. D. was wearing a leather biker jacket. His hair is past his shoulders and blue. The very first person we saw asked them if they were a band. Then he put his arm around Dante and boozily told him what a great night it was.

Maybe you had to be there. Dante is maybe the least huggable person I know. (I've tried. God knows I've tried. I'm very snuggly, especially with my friends, and even more especially when I'm fucked up) He looks huggable, but he doesn't seem to like that much physical contact. He invariably starts whimpering. He held out with the large drunk man pretty well, but his facial expressions whenever the guy wasn't looking were priceless.

We drank quickly, and then got the hell out. We went back to Timmons. Mia looked settled for the night. Since she works there and hangs out there, she knew almost everyone. To me, though, it just didn't seem New Years. I pointed out that except for Bert's, the New Years Eve Bar Scene seemed just like any other night at the bar, except with less seating. It was 20 to midnight. We decided to go back to Berts.

Bert's was wall to wall people by this time. We went across the street to BuzzB's instead. It had recently been redone. There was a large mural of Bilbo Baggins right by the last available booth. Bilbo Baggins! How cool is that? The bartender was someone I recognized from Kristina's. (Nice guy, jokes a little but only when he can see it's a good time, excellent tipper). He was opening bottles of champagne. "It's not really champagne, of course," scoffed Dante. "Probably sparkling white wine, at best." I told him I didn't care. It was a really cool gesture, and I wanted some. We hung out there for maybe an hour and a half. The bartender refilled our glasses of champagnelike substance. I felt kinda bad for him. He'd gone all out, and his place was full, but not as packed as anywhere else in town. That's really the way I prefer it though. D. likes noise and crowds and unnecessarily loud music, but I'd rather just sit with my friends and talk and get quietly drunk. I have a new favorite bar now.

***

We got back to Dante's about 2 or so. Alice and Yahn and Shawn and Vincent were hanging out. Bob had gone to bed early. Yahn tried to organize a Pile game, but D. and Dante got caught up in some sort of discussion. Shawn had to work in the morning, so he left, and Alice and Yahn and I sat on the floor listening to them debate for at least an hour. At Alice's prompting, I started throwing cheese crackers at them. That was actually pretty amusing for a while (I'd been drinking roughly two drinks for every beer they sipped, so I was most definitely drunk, while they were at most, buzzed), but they kept talking for so long that eventually throwing food around got boring. I hadn't known that was possible.

***

Eventually, we played the Pile game. I was first to die, and I went home. I've been awake now for five hours, so maybe they'll all wake up sometime soon. I should start calling people. There were some half plans to spend today watching movies.

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