Greetings fellow 2020-2023 survivors. We stumbled into the final day of the year the same way a wobbly marathon runner approaches his last mile like a baby giraffe learning to walk. (If exhaustion burned calories, we’d all be supermodels by January 1st.)
The last day of the year is like the superhero origin story of Mondays. You wake up, cape-less and coffee-deprived, ready to face the world one last time. This last day of 2023 was a Sunday, the last day of the week, and the last day of the year.
After Another trip around the sun it’s absolutely normal to feel out of gas, feeling exhausted at the end of the year is as common as finding glitter in your clothes after spending hours in a strip club or that’s what I’ve heard anyway. Plus, I don’t even remember when was the last time I saw the sun in L.A., this looks more like Portland every day. Maybe it’s time to face the reality that our genes are working against us, or that we are getting old.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
For the last 3 years, we’ve been saying: This has been the Worst Year Ever...until the next Year! We survived a pandemic and a writer's strike – I’ve never seen so many people eagerly waiting for both viruses and plot twists to be over.
So, in a bold move to break the monotony, I wished for 2024 to shake things up. Four hours into the new year, and I’ve already experienced a shooting and an earthquake. It’s like the universe misunderstood 'shake things up' and now I know what they mean when they say, \"Be careful what you wish for\". Maybe I should’ve added a disclaimer to my wish: because this level of drama is making me consider a career change to professional survivor.
Note to self: next time, be way more specific when making wishes.
Wait, does my Lamp Genie have dyslexia as well? Anyway, despite the chaos, I’m optimistic by nature. But first, let’s go back in time to this last Sunday.
We made plans to cruise and brunch at The Old Place in Malibu on this glorious midst-rainy and chilly day. En route to meet with the VVMC crew in Venice, J transformed herself into a rain-blocking hero, bravely standing guard against the watery onslaught from behind. This is proof that chivalry and rain don’t always mix! She was wet and I was not.
Riding through the Malibu canyons wet but in style, we reached our destination only to discover it was closed. Apparently, the service industry believes in taking breaks too. How rude!
The Old Place with VVMW (Venice Vintage Motorcycle Club) So, we did a full-on pirouette with our plans, and by \"we,\" I mean Dayne, our resident ninja on a unicycle. I swear, the guy can pivot like a breakdancing giraffe—graceful and surprisingly effective. If life were a circus, Dayne would be the guy juggling flaming bowling pins on that unicycle, all while making it look easier than avoiding small talk at a family reunion. We ended up headed to a spot by the PCH. Flexibility, my friends, bending over backward to fit into life’s absurdities, all while keeping a smile on its face. On our way back J’s refusal to visit the eye doctor might turned the scenic views into a guessing ride.
Back home, after defrosting and a round of what I call Spanish Yoga (napping), we faced the challenge of choosing outfits. In the same way, I’m color-challenged, J, is a chromatic superhero, decoding hues like a fashion Sensei. She matched while I stumbled along like a clown at a crayon convention.
Our evening plans were dinner, drinks, and a kiss under the mistletoe, or as J hilariously suggested one day: \"Stay under a mistletoe to kiss my cameltoe.\" Oh, the poetry of romance! Dinner plans went kaput when the kitchen people pulled a Cinderella on us and went home the second we walked in.
Yet, the silver lining? Nothing can beat spending the last nite of the year together and beginning a new one with J. Now, J might not see things the way I do. Maybe it’s her heart condition (she doesn’t have one when she is hungry), perhaps the need for glasses, or it could just be that she was starving. She’s like the anti-gremlin; you’ve got to feed her after midnight, or things get real.
So, we clinked our glasses with champagne, and with the spirit of spontaneity, meaning:
J: Are we gonna eat or what?
We embarked on a quest for the first drive-through she could sniff out. And when life serves chaos, a side of fast food just makes everything a little more digestible. And chaos, my friends, decided to join us for the night.
Shots were fired, people ran, and we found ourselves smack dab in the middle of a chaotic mess. It turns out, my experience in dealing with shit like this came in handy, as I calmly maneuvered our car out of the shooting, proving that my life is like a Spanish low-budget action movie—lots of chaos, minimal special effects, and thankful to made it out alive, especially if Alec Baldwin is in it.
https://abc7.com/downtown-la-fatal-shooting-new-years-lapd/14254758/
Back home, faced with the challenge of removing makeup, hers not mine, we decided to turn it into a comedy routine. Forget makeup removers; we opted for a clothes roller. I rolled that thing directly onto J's face, and we laughed until our stomachs hurt. Because, my friends, even after tragic events, laughter is the best medicine, even if it involves rolling a lint roller on someone's face.
In the end, we managed to end the year with a bang—a literal one, as an earthquake decided to join the party. Life may throw earthquakes and chaos, but as long as you have laughter and a lint roller, you’re well-equipped to face anything. Only 361 days to go!
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