New year, monkeys and here's to no bar

Well, I got a new calendar. Otherwise, what did I tell you? Things are pretty much the same. The hoopla over a 'new year' is really just an excuse to get drunk and a money maker for defense attorneys, who profit from all the stupid shit people do when they are drunk: drive, break windows with firecrackers, punch people, pee in the street, drive trucks into houses, fight their baby's daddy's new baby's mama, break windshields, buy crack from an undercover officer any sober idiot could tell was a cop, yell in the street with an open bottle of shitty whiskey, stuff like that.

If I buy into the idea of a new year, at least I don't have to take the bar this year, which is really a measuring stick. House burn down? Bird flu? Monkey infestation? Hey, it's not the bar. Further, I'm on my way to having associates of my own to abuse and, if I'm lucky, enough money to buy a new car someday. It will probably be after I pay off my student loans, which I'm on track to do when I'm 73, at which time they will take my driver's license, but I won't care, because I'll have that new fucking car and will drive it, fuck them. Oh, that new car smell! A windsheild with no crack in it! A stereo with speakers I haven't blown yet! Dreams I cherish like a child, except I don't beat them. Sigh.

Until next time, glad you got to read me. Happy new year and may you visit bars, not take them.