Good riddance

Okay, so there’s a lot of blog introspection going on right now. New year = fresh start and all that.

I’ve never been one for the New Year’s resolutions. I figure what’s the point of self-improvement when your house still only has one bathroom?

I’ll tell you a couple of things I figured out, though. Not like things I figured out this past year - what have I been yammering about for all of 2006 if not that? I mean things I figured out at this year’s bad* New Year’s Eve party:

1. Don’t go to New Year’s Eve parties. Just stay home and avoid the let-down. For instance, the hosts always tell you that it’s “dressy,” and then you show up looking fabulous, while everyone else seems to be having a ratty t-shirt contest.
   
2. When a fellow guest is telling a long-winded story about how terrible the food is at the Grand Canyon, asking if “The Grand Canyon” is that new Mexican fusion restaurant in Mid-Wilshire is not a very clever way to change the subject, no matter how much you think it is.
3. When your dyed black goth mullet-sporting host wishes you happy new year, “Happy 1988 to you, too!” is NOT the kind of response that a polite guest comes up with, really.
4. When someone starts raving about how great Dreamgirls is, keep your mouth shut about how much you hate Beyonce. No one, for instance, wants to hear you go off in any way remotely resembling the following: I really hate Beyonce. I hated those tired old Kelly-LeBrock-esque slow-mo Pepsi commercials she used to do. I hate her appalling taste in clothes. I hate her blond tranny wig and her creepy little baby teeth. I hate that she murdered those Prince songs on the Grammys, songs that are so brilliant that they are practically murder-proof, but everyone still pretended that she was fabulous. And I really really hate the egocentric dribble that has been issuing from her stupid, vapid little mouth since the whole Dreamgirls PR machine has gotten underway. I’m tired of hearing about how “soft” she had to sing, and how she had to “hold back” in the movie, and how that was such hard acting. Because to me, “holding back” means that you sang the actual notes of the song, and not ten notes around every note of the song. Because I am so so so so tired of that whole “see how many fucking notes I can jam in per second” school of diva bullshit crap singing crap. But the worst, the very worst, thing about Beyonce is that she clearly can not stand that Jennifer Hudson has stolen the movie out from under her, which, first of all, is so unbelievably “duh!” that it’s actually kind of funny. I mean, bitch, did you not ever see the show? Did you skip the part where the fat girl sings circles around the Diana Ross girl? And did you not understand that you were going to be the Diana Ross girl, and that the chick who was too fat for American Idol but can sing circles around you was going to be playing the fat girl part? Hello! And what could have been going through Beyonce’s teeny, tiny little mind when she said that "I'm already a star. I already have nine Grammys. Everyone knows I can sing. I did this because I wanted people to know that I can act and I can play someone so different from myself. I mean, I wish I could've gained 20 pounds and played Effie." Do you see what I mean? Is that not the biggest, most obvious me-ow in the history of catty show biz digs ever???? Bitch should call Jay-Z to take her and her gigantic booty-sized ego away to some island somewhere and leave us the fuck alone for awhile.

5. Uh, the other thing that I learned is that while riding home in the cab of a tow truck is not the ideal way to spend New Year’s Eve, but it does tend to confirm any notions you might have about the new year being an improvement over the shitty old one.

So, here’s to a better year, everyone. Now if you’ll excuse me, Hertz has a Chevy Malibu with my name on it.

*And when I say “bad,” of course I mean that there never is any other kind. It’s not the host’s fault. They’re intelligent and engaging people. They put out impressive amounts of booze and some great food. The invite other charming and accomplished guests. But they and their party are just doomed. They just are. You know what I’m saying. Don’t pretend you don’t.