I’d said I was going to throw a New Year’s Eve party for the hounds, but when the potentially glorious moment arrived, they were totally uninterested. In fact, between the sound of premature bottle rockets, the crowds of noisy hipsters passing on the street, and the abundance of tinseled party hats littering the kitchen table, they were pretty damn terrified.

Of course, that did not stop me.

I tried to engage them, to amp them up. We ate. We ran up and down the hall. We played fetch (well, Tania did). But when the party favors came out and the champagne cork popped, they went all Cinderella on me–and it wasn’t even midnight. I forced them to sit for a few pics, then decided to try my hand at bipeds.

It went no better. Quite possibly, it went worse.

For one, the streets were packed with folks in town for the Sugar Bowl. Now, don’t get me wrong: I’m happy that tourism has returned to the French Quarter. I’m happy that people from Alabama and Utah and other football hotspots are enjoying themselves and supporting our local businesses. But like every other group of visitors, last night’s revelers took to walking down the middle of the street and throwing their go-cups wherever they liked. I’ve seen that happen for decades, but last night, it was all I could do not to cut someone with my rat-tail comb. (Just kidding: I don’t carry a rat-tail comb. But I aspire to.)

I joined Dave and Bud for a couple of drinks and a drag show at the Golden Lantern, which would’ve been fun under normal circumstances. Alas, we were right next to the bar, so I felt like I was in the way, and the only people I knew in the place were Dave and Bud, who are a couple, so I felt even more in the way. I stepped outside for some air during a break in the action and never looked back. Clearly, I didn’t want or need to be out. From the time I locked up to the time I returned home: less than one hour.

By midnight, I was nodding off. I heard a bunch of fireworks go off down the block, turned to Kika and wished her a happy new year, closed my laptop, and bedded down on the sofa.

I haven’t even kissed anyone yet. I’m like a NYE virgin or something. Can I eBay that, you think?

0 thoughts on “

  1. Michael C.

    Hmmm… I can't tell if that story was an insightful critique of modern culture, or just sad. Either way, I love the photos… especially that first one of the Hound Tableau.Scot & I are happy to send a virtual kiss your way.

  2. Toddlington

    Well clearly you didn’t get (or chose to ignore, which is the bigger crime?) my text. I had a special glittery corner all set up for you. Pish.And HNY. Je t’embrace à la prochaine fois.

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