My New Year

I know I'm late for my new year story, so here it goes.

31st December 2006

As a Taurean I prefer to celebrate the new years at home. I can prove this since I’ve been doing it for the last three years. There have been “special” occasions that I do go out with a bunch of friends but I will never enjoy it as much as I do at home. The hassle to get dressed, shave and groom your appearance to perfection just seems a rather boring process for me to go thru. But this end of year was a bit special. Apparently I’m deemed to hold a party for a dear friend of mine, who is about to go into cancer treatment. It was sort of a going away party from his clubbing days which seemed appropriate.

My white-striped shirt was ironed for once and the buttons that was loose on the wrist was knitted up nicely. My black v-neck sweater from Giordano looked smashing and has a faint smell of Kenzo par ‘fume courtesy of my lil’ brother. My white Stan Smith Adidas shoe looked absolutely brand new again after a round of washing and polishing and thanks to my sis’, my Levi’s jeans looked brilliant. I was all set for the going away party that I’ve been masterminding for the last three weeks. The people that I invited have shown enthusiasm for tonight – most probably because of the free alcohol and the VVIP table that I got. The hot chicks that I know will come because I promise them all that there will be some hot guys (including me). My wallet contains just the right amount of dough and my hair is styled to perfection (I looked like a semi-grunge Dave Grolh from the Foo Fighters). Yessire, I’m going to be the star tonight no doubt (next after my friend that has cancer).

After a few hours later, I can’t help but notice the countdown of the time towards the party. Time was moving a bit fast and I always get agitated whenever there’s a huge event or party that I have to go; and apparently this time I’m also the host. Three hours later, I’m already at the pub and it’s called Club Bond because the owner loves James Bond (I’m kidding). The pub is like a cross of a jazz pub and an Irish bar because they have too many Irish people coming in and they decorated the place very jazzy like. Nevertheless I didn’t complain because after tonight, I’m hoping that everyone will have a good time. And that’s a well deserved gift that I can bask in.

As my table started to fill in with the first five guests, I took the liberty of ordering a pint of beer and an appletini – the drinks for men with a dash of feminity. And believe me they have the best blend of martini ever; I recommend the lycheetini too. The others however were wondering where the hot mamacitas because it was already 10.30. I wasn’t worried because ladies as we all know love to take their time with all the makeup and the dressing (far opposite from their male counterpart).

Eleven thirty. I was panicking and sweating out of my ass. There was no sign of the girls and some of them flake out last minute. I feel the tension bobbling up around the table as all eyes was on me and not on the main star. I have to think quickly and reduce this awkward moment, because if I don’t, then I know it’s going to leave a stain in my reputation as the worst host ever. Thankfully a good friend of mind came five minutes later and broke the silence. I invited him just in case because he apparently has this charm and aura that makes guys and girls like him. I call these kind of people “The Naturals”.

However, things looked up until it was the year 2007 and I have accomplished my first party ever and probably my last. But the best part of this all was receiving a thanks from my dear friend, when he came to me and whispered “Now I’m ready to go for the treatment. Thanks for the going away party man!”