Friday, January 2, 2009

Puke Crotch gets a midnight kiss

New Year's Eve is a pretty fucking depressing holiday, if you ask me.  Not only are you required to make out with someone, but it has to be at a very particular moment.  If you don't, then it's like breaking a mirror and you get seven years of bad sex, or seven years of no sex, or something involving sex and not involving orgasms.  You can send yourself flowers on Valentine's Day (what? don't judge!), but you can't make out with yourself on New Year's.

This year I gave up on the whole tragic idea of a midnight kiss. I figured I could tongue a bottle of Svedka at the big moment, which seemed like a pleasant alternative when compared to watching other people suck face in the oh-so-romantic glow of the sparklers and fireworks.  

I had almost forgotten my kissless fate when some dashing boy from years passed asked me to introduce him to my 'hot friends.' Doesn't everyone within a mile radius of Uni Guantanamontrose know that all my friends are gay men or taken or taken by gay men or making out with gay men?  

Drunk, feisty and slightly defensive, I asked, "What the fuck is wrong with me?"  That's when the deal happened.  The kiss deal.  I say 'deal' because we shook on it. 

I should mention that this was quite an amazing deal because I may or may not have puked on this person's crotch when I was sixteen and riding passenger in my own car.  To be fair, it was more in the center consul than his crotch.  This might have resulted in me getting nicknamed 'Puke Crotch', which was pretty unfair considering what that suggested versus what actually happened.  

The kiss itself I don't really remember.  It was pleasant and brief, I recall that much.  I was wearing blood red stilettos.  I made sure not to fall.  I also made sure no one set my hair on fire, because oh god does that shit smell.  Don't fall, and don't catch hair on fire: those were my two thoughts.  After the sparklers burned out, we parted ways.  

It's common knowledge that you don't make out with someone who puked near you, not to mention on you, even if it was over six years ago.  You just don't make out with Puke Crotch.  So I can only attribute what happened to a New Year's (or maybe a a late Christmas?) miracle. 

Yes, basically my New Years started with a miracle of Jesus.  How was yours?  

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