Like that time in high school when we got in the car accident on the way to the shore and we ended up in the back of the cop car and the cop helped us find an alternate ride to Ocean City. Actually, that part was awesome. Minus the whole car accident part. But then I'm pretty sure there was some shoving and some fighting and some dramatic running to the beach.
And that time in college when we went back to the shore and there was the blue marker all over the white walls and white furniture and the pee in the shoes and toilet paper in the jacuzzi and all those clogged toilets and those tears and didn't someone puke in a purse and more dramatic running to the beach.
And that other time in college where there was the awkwardness and the too much champagne and the beer tears and the falling down the steps and the fighting and the crying on the couch and I'm pretty sure if a beach had been within closer proximity there would have been some running to it.
To remedy this, B and I took New Year's Eve off last year. We went to a concert with my little brother and his girlfriend. And it was great. It was mindblowing. But this year, we're back in the game.
After much discussion, a general party destination for the VGFs has been decided on in New York City. And now exact locations such as Manhattan or Queens are being thrown around and I'm intrigued because wasn't a movie filmed there one time? And things such as uptown and downtown and train stations and speaking of trains in New York City I wonder who in the group will be reenacting the train scene from Risky Business because no trip to the Big Apple is complete without some public sex, right? I'd also be down for some fisty cuffs on the subway platform because I'm not sure what movie I saw that in maybe I'm actually confusing
And now's the part where I take a breath and stop planning. Because this is the lesson life has taught me: The higher my expectations rise, the harder I fall down the steps. But at least I've learned to not spill my drink along the way.
UPDATE: B has just informed me that the correct term for coming to blows is actually fisticuffs not fisty cuffs and apparently I'm dumb but I like my way better because it's cuter, right, and then we came to fisty cuffs because nobody corrects me and gets away with it.