so 2009, huh? 2009 is like the year we used to pretend it was when we were little and wanted to play grown-up. i thought there would be a lot more rocket boots and flying cars by now, but whatever.

so i rang in the new year in a loft in brooklyn. actually, a few lofts. as usual i sucked at taking pictures and only have a few random ones that don't really illustrate any of the things that went down.

nothing says happy new year like Rick Owens ponyhair kicks. i love the recession because it makes all the shoes we want totally affordable.

dorsey was the holiday grinch and did a lot of shit talking the new year. the jager helped.
(i stayed the fuck away from the jager because every single time i drink that shit i end up blacking out, even if i just take a shot. plus it tastes like shit. for real. do not try to front like jager tastes good because you and i both know that it tastes like cough syrup and kerosene.)

see? a few jager swigs later and the grinch is down to take a civilized picture.

thanks for the loft party, homegirl!

ket and i right before the countdown.

after the countdown i basically tried to play catch-up with my sobriety. i realized over christmas FOR REAL THIS TIME that i don't really like to be drunk. we were in VA for for the holiday i got in a text fight with one of my best friends and had some shots of patron to take the edge off. i think what i actually did was give myself cirrhosis of the liver. i woke up the next day with the mother of all anxiety attacks, and poor brian had to drive us the whole way home from DC because all i could do was whimper, try not to puke, and eat xanax. i made it all the way back to our parking garage without incident, and then spent the next 20 minutes by myself shaking and puking in a trashbag in our car like sarina from intervention. not my finest hour. since then i've lost five pounds (a lot for me) and just looking at food turns my stomach.

the point is that i can't handle alcohol anymore, so the few glasses of Veuve at ket's house, swig of wine in the back of a cab, and maybe 1/3 of a bottle of prosecco made me mad swervy for the entire night. wtf? ket and i tried to find some yosh to at least clear my head but it didn't go down, then dorsey disappeared and then ket disappeared and i was adopted by the most adorable gays of all time who decided we were kindred spirits and put me in their cab back to their loft where i counselled them through a rough spot in their relationship and made friends with their blind italian greyhound bella, did a line, and fell asleep.

i woke up in the CUTS in brooklyn, had to walk forever to find a train, which ended up being the G on flushing, and made it back to civilization. all in six in micheal kors heels. but i looked good.

i don't have any resolutions this year. i don't really feel like i need to make any major changes. if i ate any better than i did i would be a fucking vegan for christ's sake, and that shit is NOT going down. i already work out as much as a 15 hour a day work-a-holic can. i don't smoke. i'm clearly not going to be drinking too much. the yosh is pretty much a distant memory. jesus, how boring do i sound. maybe my resolution should be to try to add back some vices. okay, fine. i resolve to spend waaay too much money on Chanel make-up and to add in a $20 sack once in a while. and i'll go to yoga more. hello 2009.