I put on my gold, fuzzy bathrobe, snuggled under my thick penguin blanket on the couch eager to watch the preliminaries and the event.
What a waste of time.
Among other inanities three, allegedly mature men, made dirty jokes. I'm not against dirty jokes, but they have to be funny. I didn't find anything funny about them asking their preferences between things like oral sex and a hamburger.
A singer, although beautiful and with a beautiful body, did a bump and ground number worthy of a pole dancer in a strip joint, although she did keep her beautiful costume on. Another woman, dressed for the cold, sang Imagine although the audio left something to be desired.
Camera shots of a fun-loving crowd who were suckered into wearing a publicity hat for a gym chain. Thousands and thousands in the crowd seemed to be watching/recording the event on their phones instead of participating in the event or relating to those they were with, although there were kisses once it was 2026.
The countdown began. I didn't see the ball didn't descend. The Internet says it will be done twice, the second time for the 250th anniversary of the U.S.
I went back to bed. I've looked for videos of the ball dropping on the internet. I haven't found them yet.
I thought of Roman Bread and Circuses.
My resolution?
Memo to myself. Don't ever watch again. Take the dog to the beach for zoomies to start 2026, not a resolution, a lifestyle.
Happy and a healthy New Year to everyone reading this!
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