New Years eve is almost always a disaster. It’s a little like losing your virginity. You think about it a lot in the time leading up to it, and then as the big day approaches, you kind of panic because, in the face of the moment, you realize you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, you don’t have a plan, and you’re gonna wind up with company that’s not exactly your first choice. In the end, you drink too much, it’s over quick and you wake up the next day thinking ‘huh. That’s it, eh?’ and suddenly a gigantic milestone is done and you’re just sitting there hung over and sticky.
This is just what USUALLY happens. Sometimes you probably lose your virginity to someone great and have mind blowing orgasms. This new years eve was like that for me. We played a show in Chicago and it was great in every way (if you came out, thanks so much! We love you guys). I got to hang out with some of my favorite people in the world and do some of my favorite things. It was a rare, but wonderful version of NYE.
New years day is probably the best day of the year. Here’s the situation: you’re hung over, it’s cold as shit outside, no one has anything to do, everyone EXPECTS you to be hung over, so you sit on the couch and drink mimosas and revel in the fact that it’s a new era and, for the time being, the slate’s clean and everything’s on auto pilot. Maybe you order a pizza and do it with whoever you’re snowed in with. Maybe you just play video games all day. Regardless, there’s a hazy soft entry to a new year and it’s pretty much the best. There’s no better feeling than lazily brunching your way out of a mild hangover with your pals, and there is no more quintessential brunching day than New Year’s Day.
But today, January second, this is, hands down, the worst day of the year. It’s cold. You’re back at work. There’s NOTHING on the horizon but cold, shitty drudgery for months. What’s the next big deal? Valentine’s Day? Ugh. You don’t even get to take off work on Valentine’s Day and you either have to try and come up with some dumb romantic gift/gesture combo or face the brutal fact of being alone. Either way, fuck Valentine’s Day. If you’re alone, you DEFINITELY have some dipshit friend who will call you and suggest a ‘lonely hearts club’ night out at a bar (a phrase so completely riddled with douche chills that my hands tremble just typing it out), and if you’re willing to actually deal with the kind of dork who suggests this kind of thing, you’ll wind up at a bar fending off advances from dorky pickup artists and predatory Jersey Shore types, or at the very least surrounded by them.
If you’ve got someone to hang out with on Valentine’s Day, you’re even more fucked. You’re either casually dating/boning, in which case you’re bound to either err on the side of doing something too casual or way too sappy, OR you’re in some established relationship and uh…what the fuck are you gonna do? Dinner? Chocolate strawberries? A trip down to Sybaris (google it and prepare to get virtual crabs from looking at the virtual carpet). Barf. There’s nothing that you can REALLY do on Valentine’s Day that’s worth a shit besides propose. Short of that, groom your zone, wear some nice underwear and bone. Boom. Done. But hopefully, you’re trying to do that a lot already, so what’s left? A lot of fretting about how to make someone feel special but no real tools to do it with besides dorky shit from hack jewelers and florists. To reiterate: barf.
But fuck, let’s say you don’t give a fuck about Valentine’s Day. You’re sitting here on January 2nd, and you’re looking right past Valentine’s Day because fuck it. It’s not even on your badass radar. Okay, then what’s up? Oh, right: St. Patrick’s Day, which is like New Year’s Eve if everyone started drinking at 9am and felt even more entitled to act like a mentally retarded asshole. It’s funny, because you’d expect an Irish themed drinking holiday to be a day where you don’t work, just by design, but alas…they’ve taken the Irish out of St. Paddy’s as sure as they’ve taken Christ out of Christmas. It sucks.
So, here we are. January 2, 2014. Some of you think you’re not gonna drink this month (or ever again) or you’re not gonna eat fried shit, and a lot of you think you’re gonna go to the gym and finally spruce up your sagging ass, but guess what? Look out the window. That’s not motivating weather out there. If you can’t do that shit in the summer, what makes you think you’re gonna do it now? You know as well as I do that you’re destined to fail. So here we are: already riddled with guilt and malaise at the beginning of the year, waiting for all our tax forms to start coming so we can once again assess either how poor or how screwed we all are. It’s like there’s no fucking relief in sight.
EXCEPT: The Lawrence Arms video for our new single, Seventeener, is coming out next Monday and it’s great. From there, it’s only a few short weeks til our new album, Metropole is released (Jan 28th) and THEN, we kick off some tour dates on the East and West Coasts just 2 weeks after that. So here’s what you do: get stoked for the video, once you see it, spruce up your balls and clams (send me pictures, of course), go HERE and get tickets to the show closest to you, and on Valentine’s Day, surprise your significant other or fellow lonely heart dipshit with a ticket to a great experience. Come party with us and then go home and bone each others’ nicely groomed zones off.
You’re welcome. Happy new year. I love you guys. xoxoxox