New Year's Nonsense

So I thought this New Year's was going to be fairly low-key, as I was spending it with a big group of Marrieds. (I'm not saying the Marrieds are lame, I'm just saying they tend to be more tame.) I wasn't the only Single, there was a small but happy herd of us present. We congregated at the snack table, grazing like peaceful buffalo. (Well, buffalo back in the day when they roamed free and munched on as much grass as they wanted. Buffalo that didn't worry about dudes with guns who would ride by and pop them in the back of the head.)

Anyway, I expected passionate conversation about things that do little to intrigue me, namely refinancing, mortgages, and mutual funds. My disinterest in these topics probably stems from my complete irresponsibility in the face of adulthood. Will I have a house in the next five years? No no, I will not. I will be dirt poor. Will I have a job in the next five years? No no, I will not. I will still be unemployed. To be honest, any discussion of a semi-permanent living arrangement is about ten years premature in my book.

Over the course of the evening, lots of alcohol was consumed. Shots were downed, beer was thrown, construction sites pillaged for flammable materials, most unusual love ballads were sung, firework safety was blatantly ignored, and the cautious unfurled garden hoses--just in case the pyromaniacs got too out of hand.
For a brief few hours, we were ruled by the twins kings of Mayhem and Chaos. Of course, I tend to like it that way.

In summation, I would like to say I was a hundred percent incorrect about this New Year's Eve party. That evening I learned a very valuable lesson that I would like to share with you: the Marrieds are rowdy, and don't you be forgetting it.