It was almost the perfect New Year's Eve... almost.
If you could erase the last 10 seconds of 2007. That's when this girl's love boat sank to its yearly low.
Water works replaced reveling.
I found my boat flooding fast and I, without a paddle.
What I did have was an oar, pronounced O — A — R.
This jam band performed on MSG Monday night. And C. wanted to watch it.
Halfway into his air guitar act (with the remote secured firmly in his hand as his microphone), I declared I had had enough.
"Change the channel or I'm going to bed," said this O.A.R. hater.
That's when a fight ensued.
C. didn't understand why I couldn't just let him watch his fav. band.
I didn't understand why I couldn't watch the drunkards in Times Squares.
He was an ignoramus.
I was selfish.
We sat arms crossed and pouting, as the partygoers counted 10,9, 8, 7....
"Happy Freaking New Year to Me," I said. Then my tear ducts turned into a watering can for every house plant in North America.
Sure, at that moment we had bottomed out. But one of the reasons why I love C. is his ability to change my mood so completely.
In the midst of my dehydration fit, he scooped me into his arms, whispered into my ear and sent me into 2008 with a life vest — a promise it would be the best year of my life.
Ooo0, I can't wait!