It happens every year: starting in early December the texts start trickling in: “Yo, what are you doing for New Year’s Eve?” I shiver with pure hatred at the thought. Oh, you mean, “how are you going to blow wads of cash and not even hose and spray a chick down?” Listen, I’m all for raiding the ATM and swiping my credit card in a str*pper’s butt cheeks until the wee morning with my boys. However, there are elements of New Year’s — like the $200 20-minute open bar where I’m forced to stand next to Orange Anthony from Jersey as we vie for the two beers that come as part of “the package” (more on the tiered pricing later) — that I just can’t stand.
“There’s always this expectation that New Year’s will be the best party ever,” says BroBible’s Brandon Wenerd. He could not be more right. Those little fliers the guido elves hand out with “celebrity invite JaRule! NBA Development League Player!” always have a Latina babe with an ass crafted by the gods. I’m sure she’s going to be at that party, she loves being repped on the glossy stock paper, you see. Hell, this year there’s not even a Winter Classic to use as an excuse to not go out. Still, here are the 10 reasons that New Year’s Eve is actually the worst bar night of the year.
1. Making the Plans
Planning is for Martha Stewart and the birds. I cannot f*cking stand all the options people start throwing at you; then everyone has to get on the same page. It’s not your simple “meet you at the local watering hole” to bag some 8s. It always has to be something more extensive and expensive. Also, probably because some smoking-hot shot girl asked me to, I’m on a text list for club nights — go f*ck yourself club promoter.
2. High Expectations
“Dude! Best night ever!” Really? One night? When you set the bar high, it’s impossible to ever reach it. It’s not like you’re going to check the oil of all of ASU’s campus or anything. It’s one unlimited booze bar night, pretty standard at school.
3. Tiered Pricing
O.K., $150 for an open bar is aggressive, but, hey, the year is over and her pregnancy test was negative, let’s get rowdy. Read closely: $150 for an open bar that lasts an hour at most, limits what type of booze you can have, and never tells you that there is only one bar. Plus, it’s usually operated by the ninth-string bartender who is also half-deaf. Furthermore, the lowest
prices never include seating: Oh great, I get to stand up forever and feel like a peasant? Sure, I could buy up, but Bros aren’t playas (according to the commenters).
4. Being at Clubs
Much like Ned Younger Brother said a few years back: clubs suck. Oh, it’s named “Excursion”? Listen, whatever the name is, all I know is I’ll be 10 deep at the bar next to DJ Pauly D and his Italian Mafia squad. Most of the music will suck and all the birds will be so stick-figure thin, I may break all their ribs in a drunken romp. Clubs are awful, give me a filthy frat basement or dive bar. One day in the year is enough, and it’s not on December 31.
Don’t take this wrong, but I like to hang out with people I get along with. Suddenly, NYE comes around, and I’m forced to make friends with the Jersey Shore crowd (they always find their way into every atmosphere on this one night). I don’t care for those “people,” and I do not want to mix with them.
Flannel, Bean boots, and khakis: daily frattire. Now, you can’t wear a hat in these places, and have to get dressed up. I like getting formal, but not to watch some ball drop as I peruse the place for ass.
7. Amateur-Hour Partiers
You already know who I’m talking about: the kid who never goes out, but suddenly is the “man.” He might as well be a broad because by 11 p.m. he’s throwing up, crying about his life in the stall, and you have to find a way to piss around him. The night is full of these types who always become cockblocks (“I have to take care of my friend”). Yeah? So do I. His name is my pen*s and he needs attention too.
8. Midnight Kiss
Isn’t that hard to read in general? This isn’t fifth grade anymore. First of all, I’m always that guy who is clueless to what time it is, while every fat chick reminds you every five minutes “how much closer we are!!” Then it comes… midnight. Sure, most likely there’s that girl who just broke up with her five-year boytoy, and suddenly there you are. Count that kiss as a waste. Kissing that leads to nothing is the equivalent of a hot 17.9-year-old = a waste of time. Sure you may finger blast a few minutes, but that and kissing will lead to early arthritis and strep throat.
9. Closing the Deal
Not. That. Easy. Girls roll in hard-core packs to these events. Getting the target out of the wolf-circle takes a lot of work, something you should never resort to. I’m all for getting beau-coup Cancun drunk, but chicks usually can’t handle it on New Year’s. It must be all the resolutions to not be a sl*t in 2011 or something.
10. Getting Home/No Cabs
First of all, props to P. Diddy or whatever his new name is, for promoting the “Cue the Cab” campaign of Jose Cuervo. It’ll hail you a $25 cab ride in NYC for free. And also to the NYC DOT, who are doing the same thing tonight with their You the Man campaign. Aside from that, stumble out of your watering hole with some babe and look for a way to go give her another type of ride. Nowhere to be found. Drunk as shit and want to grill late-night food? Better walk, son.
Happy New Year, everyone.
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