I went to a new year's eve party last night. New year's eve parties are cruel and unusual punishment for single people, especially those over 30. Your friends who have dates tell you to go and have fun, maybe you will meet someone. I could be having a great time, until the countdown to midnight starts. As soon as I hear people chanting 10, 9, 8...dread encompasses me like a thick fog. My eyes quickly dart around the room looking for a place to escape...the bathroom, the kitchen, even a coat closet would do. Anything except standing there at midnight without anyone to kiss while everyone else is engaged in a lip lock with their date. I feel utterly stupid just standing their by myself. Or worse yet, the balding guy who has been eating the garlic onion dip all night and who earlier showed me a picture of him in a costume his mom made him for comic-con all of a sudden appears right next to me with that expectant look in his eyes the moment the dreaded countdown starts.
However, this year it was different. The party hosts put out a bowl of candy like this one.
