New Year's Eve Past

This past New Year's Eve found our family on the couch in front of our t.v., watching a Canadian house hunting/remodeling show on Netflix-- right up until about ten minutes before the ball was slated to drop. With Dick Clark gone there's not much reason to tune in before that, or at all really. I'm sure there are those of the rising generation who, because of the wickedness of the traditions of their fathers, will think the same thing about Ryan Seacrest when his time finally comes. But no matter.

If New Year's Rockin' Eve isn't even worth watching from the comfort of my living room anymore for lack of Clark, I can't think of a reason for so many people to actually attend the thing in person. What kind of person would willingly be sardined into Time Square like that? And it's not just a few people; no sir. People come in from all over the country to stand, fifty people deep, along both sides of the street, for twelve hours or more in the frigid conditions, holding their bodily fluids and hoping not to get trampled to death by the other lunatics with neon 2015 glasses balanced on the ends of their noses, so they can watch the second that the ball drops LIVE and in person-- all while fending off complete strangers who want a New Year's kiss.

It just seems like a lot to me, with nothing more to show for it than a new profile picture and the very distinct risk of contracting meningococcal meningitis.

Anyone who watched a little after the ball dropped also saw a man in uniform propose to his girlfriend in front of Jenny McCarthy, God, and everyone with access to basic television programming. Which was sweet, I guess. The girl didn't seem to mind, anyways.

But such proposals have always seemed so disingenuous to me. I suppose I have always felt that any proposal that needed dressing up wasn't much of a proposal at all. Any man who would propose to me in such a public setting would get an unhesitating "No" for his trouble.

Time Square on New Year's Eve: "No."

Jumbo-tron at any sporting event: "No."

In the middle of a restaurant: "No."

In any public place, at any given time, by any man: "No."

I feel like proposals are very personal business and should be done in private. Let me be clear: This is just my personal take on the matter. I know tons of people who have started their marriages off that way and their marriages don't seem to suffer by it. That sort of thing is fine if you're okay with it. But I'm not.

My last few posts have seemed particularly judgmental, I think. It's probably just because I'm a really judgmental person. I'm sort of glad you're finding this out about me now, though, before we get serious.

On a side-note, I want Elton John's blazer.