Holiday Cheer

I'm on vacation this week. Unfortunately, my finances are such that I am unable to jet off to some sunny destination to laze on the beach. Instead, I am freezing my expanding ass off in the city. My only New Year's Resolution this year is to drag said-fat-ass back to the gym.

Speaking of New Years...not sure what I'm doing yet. I'd love to hear what the rest of ya'll have planned. Some people Kay and I know are spending the weekend at a ski chalet. It's a bit pricey but it sounds nice and will give us an opportunity to dress up for dinner. I'd prefer to spend a laid back NYE with Jay, Drew and company but Kay isn't thrilled about the "& co." part. She's been a good friend to me this year and I can't imagine ringing in the new year without her so Chateau Bromont it will probably be. I'll finally get to meet Al, some dude that they've been trying to hook me up with for ages. He's supposedly great, except for his receding hairline.

I hadn't gone dancing in a while so went out over the weekend, despite a (literal) pain in the neck. Salon Daome was every bit as fab as I'd heard. Unfortunately, I had to leave a little over two hours later because, genius that I am, I drank after taking muscle relaxants for my neck, and got violently ill. Thankfully the club is only two blocks from home. I still had a blast and am planning on going back this Saturday with my new friends. They are so much fun. They even invited me to party with them on New Years Day at Stereo, an after hours nightclub. I can't wait!!!

I'm 27. I figure I have at most a few years left of unadulterated, unabashed merry-making before I really have to sober up, buckle down and marry up. I reassure myself that at least I've got a head start: I own my own home, I have fur-kids, a well-paying full-time bore, I mean, JOB, pay taxes and invest in RRSPs. By day I'm Martha-fucking-Stewart. Although you ever notice how Martha Stewart is a big boozer? She spikes all her holiday recipes with liquor.

I have a crush of my neighbor. She's, like, from Romania or some other Eastern European country where they spit out gorgeous fat-free girls with scrubbed faces. What the hell is in their water?! She's an artist and lives in the penthouse with her suit-clad husband, a blond adonis from my high school that all the girls swooned over. And she's NICE. Cruel, cruel fate.