The Exquisite Hell of New Year's Eve
It's exactly 15 days until New Year's Eve, and we're guessing you couldn't care less. We certainly couldn't. Like St. Patrick's Day, the 31st is a giant amateur hour, an excuse for wannabe-alcoholics to waste hundreds of dollars on an overcrowded, open bar, and don sparkly shirts that no God could ever have intended for them to wear. And after the ball drops and your night has officially reached its expected level of letdown, you can spend 75 minutes searching for a cab, only to finally hail a ride in a mobile vomit unit. Fun!
So thank you, New York Times, for giving us four pages worth of options on how best to execute our inevitably shitty evenings. 'Cause, um, we don't have plans yet.
