12.7.07

Back to Basics...

Sorry for the intense blog yesterday. I've accepted the fate of Washington Football at this point. I'm not happy about it, but I've accepted it. (Oh--one point I didn't bring up yesterday for all of you Willingham apologists: You know how you're always talking about how great he was at Notre Dame and how much better Willingham is than Charlie Weis?? Here's a fun fact: over the past three years, Charlie Weis has more wins over Pac-10 schools than Ty Willingham. And for those of you who haven't put it together---NOTRE DAME ISN'T EVEN AN EFFING PAC-10 SCHOOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

With that said, allow me to return to useless rants about inconceivably stupid topics...

Only 24 Shopping Days Left...

No---not until Christmas (you have 17 days left for that--and yes, I'm done with my shopping) but for the real holiday. You know what I'm referring to--the event we all wait for all----


I'm sorry.

That's as far as I can go with this ridiculousness.

Really--is there anything worse than New Year's Eve?

I'm not going to waste my time arguing that it is "amateur hour" because that would imply that I'm something other than an amateur at whatever it is that you're supposed to be doing on New Year's Eve (that is of course unless it involves College Football on the Playstation 2). So it really isn't the people that bother me---it is simply the fact that you're GOING to do something...and there isn't a snowcones chance in Cancun that it is going to live up to expectation.

Does this scenario sound familiar?

You spend 8x as much money as you normally would on a night out...and at 11:45, you're having exactly the same experience that you'd be having on any other night out.

Then it hits you---you're in exactly the regrettable position that made you consider staying in.

And you go on in motion...

Walking in circles in every possible point of the bar, looking for ANYONE to kiss. At this point, herpes is no longer a concern---in fact--you'd be willing to contract a major spinal injury if it meant that your buddy's girlfriend wasn't going to kiss you on the cheek, and thereby giving you the world's greatest conciliatory kick in the balls...

But despite my general disdain (General Disdain? SALUTE!) for the non-holiday, I have decided that I'm going to make my fortune off of it---and if any of you steal this, I swear on the soul of Macauley Culkin that I will find you and end you.

Here's the idea:

I'm going to open a bar/club where every night is New Year's Eve.

Yes--Disneyworld has a similar bar---but I'm going to take it to the big city. I'm thinking San Francisco to start--with quick expansion to Seattle, Los Angeles and Denver.

And we're going to do it all...

Decorations. Champagne, and of course, a clock winding down to midnight. EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT.

I even have a working-name (thanks to my friend Sarah): Countdown.

Think about it.

Who ISN'T going to go there?

Girls night out? Go to Countdown.

Buddy is down on his luck? Go to Countdown.

Relationship needs a drunk and sexual spark? Go to Countdown.

Just a lonely, creepy alcoholic? Go to Countdown.


And here's the beauty of the whole thing:
People will go so frequently, and locations will be spread so far around the country that when it comes time for the "real" New Year's Eve---people are going to be sick of it.

WHAT A PERFECT IDEA!!

In one swoop, I can become a kajillionaire and wipe out the worst night of the year...have I mentioned that I'm a genius? I am.


And so what if the Health Department will shut it down after three or four years because of rampant sexually transmitted diseases and a startling number of hookers...
But by then, I will have sold the business off and will have already ordered my Icelandic mail-order stripper wife and will be living in the biggest mansion in Kent.

Let the Countdown begin...



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