Brand New Year, Same Old Me?

No regrets
No regrets
I leave the 20th century with no regrets

- Transglobal Underground, "Thousand Year Heat"

Happy 2001, everyone. I apologize for my weeklong hiatus; I've not been lying drunk in an alleyway all this time. I seemed to be having problems getting connected to Blogger. I personally think it's a conspiracy - the firewall at work continues to claim casualties in the never ending battle to keep me focused on my actual job. Tomato Nation bit the dust today.

I must admit I don't understand the logic behind the Great Corporate Firewall, and how it determines what is appropriate and inappropriate for me to view from my cubicle. Apparently it's fine for me to do my virtual window shopping at Amazon, but reading the editorial page of the Cincinnati Enquirer will warp my fragile little mind. Reason #847 why I must get my apartment clean, redecorated, and reorganized so I can move my new computer home.

I had a great New Year's Eve, which I still can't believe. After a decade of really crappy New Years, I got to kick back and chill out. JohnnyB and I hung out, watched DVDs, and ate lots of junk food. To be honest, I didn't even drink all that much. Two beers before the ball dropped, some Kahlua and Baileys in my morning (mid-afternoon, same difference) coffee, and some bizarre concoction that JohnnyB made with Baileys and 7-Up. (Mental note: leave the bartending experiments to the professionals. It tasted fine until the Baileys started to clot.)

Everything was perfect for the most part until JohnnyB decided we should go see Little Nicky on New Year's Day. Despite my explanations that I really didn't like Adam Sandler movies all that much (except for The Wedding Singer), I complied and trudged off to the Super Saver with him. I think I laughed twice. Maybe. I felt embarrassed for Harvey Keitel. Hey JohnnyB? Nothing personal, you know I love you and all, and I had a wonderful time up until that point. But that movie just bit.

As usual, I went to see another wonderful theatrical production on the last day of its run, so recommending it is a moot point. But if you ever get a chance to see I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change drop everything and go. Half of the first act was based on my life, and there's a good tearjerker song in both acts. (And a million thanks to Roger Mexico for getting me in to see the show. I know I got really persistant on this one.)

My soon-to-be kitten is apparently doing well. (For those who I haven't explained this to, the kitten that I selected out of the litter currently at Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's is not very coordinated. One of his back legs doesn't seem to work very well, and for a while couldn't go more than a step or two without taking a spill. Other than that, he's a perfectly well-adjusted kitten. He just looks like he's got a bad case of the caffeine shakes - just like his would-be owner. Most people have nicknamed him Wobbly, but I've been calling him Ma Huang.) I spoke with Rosencrantz today, and she said he is not falling down as much, and is tearing up and down the steps with the rest of his brothers and sisters. She also reported that Roger Mexico's kitten likes to fetch, just like the cat he already has. I foresee many hours of throwing paper wads for anxious kitties while we're trying to watch movies.

Frighteningly enough, another reason why I haven't posted lately is I have nothing to bitch about. Seriously! As much as 2000 sucked, 2001 has started off calmly with relatively few problems. Yes, I lost one of my notebooks and the book on Kwan Yin that Rosencrantz got me for Christmas over the course of this weekend. Yes, my favorite necklace shattered into pieces in the bathroom stall at Spy Club on Friday night. But that's been about it.

If bad things cease to happen in my life, what the hell will I write about? It's hard to be sardonic when this weird sense of balance has settled in my life.