It will surprise none of you to learn that Monstro and I were the hit of the New Year's Eve party we went to with our best friends here in Cleveland. If you're looking for a way to spend New Year's Eve, go to a party that skews old: where you, your sweet baboo, and your two friends will at first only know yourselves and each other, and throughout the evening become acquainted with the other four people at your large, round, white-tableclothed dinner table. Our table was right next to the open bar and I also got to speak with the two bartenders and the policeman, and I got to kind of school him because he totally let me reach for a napkin on the counter within inches of his well-armed holstered-gun hip. (No, that's not code for anything. He had a gun.) Overall, it was like crashing a wedding on a cruise ship.
Even though the music started in the 1930s, the DJ brought us to a promising Shirelles song that would've had my dad spouting, “now *that's* some great music,” and finally threw us a “how will this go?” round of Let's Get it Started, for which Monstro, Karen, and I raced to the dance floor to vote with our feet. Someone should've called homicide because we were *killing* it on the dance floor. I'm pretty certain the “wooh!”s from strangers were for us. Well, OK, for me. I tore it up.
The surprising buzzkill of the night was Adele's “Rollin' in the Deep” (also the dog of her Royal Albert Hall live recording, because she got all stuffed up during her first encore, “Someone Like You”). RitD simply didn't keep it going on the dance floor, because although it thumps pretty hard, the tempo is not as quick as you think it is. If it got sped up, that would be an amazing song <-- my overall philosophy on improving The [American] Songbook.
The hotel down the road offered a free shuttle as well as a free make-up shuttle when we missed the one we had the reservation with, because the digital clock in our room was 10 minutes slow, which you know the guy who had the room before us did just to mess with us; thanks, buddy.
I also invented another new drink last night. Instead of my Virgin's Blush (tonic water and the merest drizzle of Chambord), this new one doesn't have a name yet; I like “jaundiced zombie” for its irony, because it's a light, rehydrating cocktail that settles one's overextended tummy right quick. Next time you're in need of something low-alcohol, fresh, and stomach-settling, try tonic water mixed with a 1/3 shot of Grand Marnier. Tonic water has a lot of sugar so if you're watching that, try it with Schweppes' diet tonic water, the only one worth mixing with quality booze that I know of. How about you?
With either tonic, it's delicious –fizzy bitter orange– but if your bartender's Polish and wearing a patchworked vest of Crown Royale bags? He'll look at you funny.
It's worth it. *Best* of all, though, was that we had an OVERNIGHT SITTER (cue angelsong) and didn't come home until noon, well, 12:02 on New Year's Day. And, because it's Sunday, we'll all still get to watch the Tournament of Roses Parade tomorrow morning on HGTV, where it will I believe be broadcast commercial-free.
Happy New Year and best wishes for 2012 from all of us here at Motormouth, who love you very much.