Seeing the name Danuel House reminds me of his nickname, “House Party”, and the concept of a house party serves as a neat transition into the real meat of this video description, which will describe how the events of New Year’s Eve unfolded in the DTB household. Sorry Danuel. You’re getting ignored from here on out.
New Year’s Eve is not normally a holiday that I celebrate. As the ball drops, my time is usually spent making highlight videos. Even if I did have theoretical friends that would theoretically invite me to a theoretical NYE gathering, I would be forced to decline. Large gatherings of people exhaust me because I have to pretend to be social; even retreating to the snacks table and warding off conversation by constantly having mouthfuls of appetizers in my mouth is too much human interaction for me.
If I even acknowledge the holiday, the extent of my celebration is to heat up an extra Pop-Tart and drink it with a can of carbonated fizzy water (I don’t like champagne either). This year, however, my plan for the night was to treat it as any other night.
Those plans changed when, at 11:45, there was a knock on my door. I’ve been expecting some packages that were supposed to be here for Christmas but were delayed, so I immediately paused my highlight-making endeavors to run to the door and see what had arrived. It never occurred to me that Fedex doesn’t deliver packages that late in the day. When I opened the door, there was something other than a package waiting for me.
It was the cute Latina who lives in the apartment upstairs from mine. I don’t even know her name. She was holding a bottle of something and seemed a little bit tipsy. “Can I come in?” she asked.
I didn’t want to be a party pooper so I let her come in. Now, already, alarm bells are going off in my head. Remember, I’m done with women. Forever. Having women in my apartment is like a foreign situation for me at this point. Why would my cute Latina neighbor, wearing a little red dress, want to come to my place to celebrate New Year’s Eve with me, the guy who has previously shown no inclination to want to celebrate anything other than scrubs getting career highs (and Christmas)?
The Latina set down her bottle on the coffee table and found my remote so she could watch the TV coverage of the ball dropping in NYC. That was pretty brazen of her. I would never touch a friend’s remote without his or her permission. I would ask for permission before messing with their electronics. But she didn’t care about those norms as she flipped through the meager amount of channels I receive on my over-the-air antenna (cable TV is pleb tier).
Trying to be a good host, I brought out some glasses so she could pour us some of whatever was in the bottle. It turned out to be red wine. “I didn’t have any champagne spur of the moment,” she explained, giggling. That let me know that this hadn’t been planned out. It was an impromptu visit.
I really wanted to go back to my computer to keep working on highlight videos, but I didn’t want her to be disappointed at my lack of hospitality, so I grabbed a bag of chips from the kitchen and then sat down next to her on the couch so we could drink wine and watch the New Year’s Eve coverage. I was afraid that she would get all cuddly with me (she has displayed an attraction to me in the past, for some reason) but she was just really into watching the TV, so that was fine. My kitty Japurri noticed that there was another warm body to snuggle with, so he crawled up into her lap and purred. There’s more of her to snuggle than me. I’m a skeleton. The Latina is, as they say, “thick”.
It was getting closer to the ball dropping and I was getting nervous. I’m not ignorant. I know what happens when the ball drops. Everybody’s supposed to kiss their special someone. For some reason, when I thought about this, visions of Ricky Rubio flashed in front of my eyes. I pushed those visions away to focus on what was going to happen. I was pretty sure that the Latina was going to want to kiss me, and if that happened, my resolve to keep women out of my life forever might break down.
They started the countdown. There were only five seconds left. She was looking at me with a really intense, and, let’s just say it, sexy look on her face. Then she started leaning towards me. So I did the only thing I could think of.
I picked up Japurri and smooshed him into her face. “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” I yelled as the people on TV started whooping and celebrating. Japurri didn’t like this sudden change of plans and put his claws out. I didn’t mean to, but the Latina got a faceful of Japurri’s claws. Like, bad. She was clutching her face in pain and I just kind of walked her to the door and made her leave while apologizing.
That was a real close one, but my heroic kitty Japurri saved the day again. Now you know why I don’t celebrate New Year’s Eve.