New Year's Eve 1992: I will eat my weight in barbecue meatballs so I'll have something on my stomach when I start chugging Bartles and James coolers.
New Year's Eve 2012: I will eat my weight in barbecue meatballs while swearing to start exercising twenty-six hours a day nine days a week.
New Year's Eve 1992: I will complain when my friends want to call it a night at 3 AM. I will whine until they agree to go to Denny's for a short stack.
New Year's Eve 2012: I will hit a wall and beg to go to bed at nine o'clock and my daughters will plead with me to stay up with them. I will bribe them with a short stack for breakfast if they just leave me the hell alone and let me sleep.
New Year's Eve 2012: I will change the channel the minute Nicki Minaj makes her appearance at Times Square and curse the music of today.
New Year's Eve 1992: I will wonder if I actually registered for my last semester of college courses. It will be a fleeting thought.
New Year's Eve 2012: I will convince myself that I can read the last fifty books left on my fifty-two book challenge. I will fall asleep on page two of the next book.
New Year's Eve 1992: I will pony-up an extra $20 for more Roman candles at 11:57 PM.
New Year's Eve 2012: I will channel my inner 84-year-old and, at 11:57 when my neighbors begin shooting off their fireworks, scaring my dogs in the process, will shake my fist in the air and holler, "Damn kids!"
New Year's Eve 1992: I will wake up with mascara gooped in the corner of my eyes and stand in the shower until the hot water runs out.
New Year's Eve 2012: I will wake up with mascara gooped in the corner of my eyes and stand in the shower until the hot water runs out.
