Showing our (HIS) age
Last night around 10 p.m., Mark and I settled in front of the TV in our pajamas and flipped on Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve. As the opening credits rolled telling us that there would be performances by Rhianna, the Jersey Boys and Fergie, it dawned on me how it’s somewhat pathetic that we are no longer participants in the annual New Year’s revelry, but just passive observers watching the action on a lighted box in our living room.
Then, Mark asked The Question.
“That Fergie person? What’s she doing on here? Isn’t she someone from the Royal Family.”
And I laughed and laughed and laughed until I snorted and gasped for air and had tears streaming down my face. It was almost as good as the alcohol-induced high I experienced every Dec. 31st in my 20s. Almost.
Then, Mark asked The Question.
“That Fergie person? What’s she doing on here? Isn’t she someone from the Royal Family.”
And I laughed and laughed and laughed until I snorted and gasped for air and had tears streaming down my face. It was almost as good as the alcohol-induced high I experienced every Dec. 31st in my 20s. Almost.
Labels: Domestic bliss, Holidays
posted by Kimberly at
9:44 AM
2 Comments:
How excellent to greet the new year feeling younger and far more hip than your mate! Rock on!
Ha! Well he is a whole month older than me. That must be the difference. ;-)
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