So my bf had the idea to have a New Year’s Eve party—at my place.
I thought: Cool because I have to work that day, I don’t care for the holiday or to travel, and it’s cold. But if everyone comes to me, fantastic! And this hostess has not ever hosted a party at her current home!
My roommate got on board and the three of us began planning. And I think, great. Me, party-planner, well this wasn’t my idea so I don’t have to do all of the planning and hostess work and I won’t care as much if it’s awful.
But it was anything but. We thought oh—like 12 people may actually be free. But the day before, the number had climbed to 30+, and then 40+ ended up coming.
It is so fun when you have help prepping for a party, because it’s an exhausting amount of work if you want to include tons of personal touches, a la moi.
So the men focused on the man power: creating a stocked bar, moving furniture, and driving to PA for $200 worth of fireworks while I focused on decorations, party favors, blankets, balloons, air mattresses, pillows, pajamas, toothbrushes, every beauty product you can think of and goodie bag gifts. Oh yes, and the tapas menu.
The day after the affair, I thought what didn’t happen? Nothing I can think of.
Dancing, debauchery at its finest, huge fireworks show on the roof, inappropriate comments/confessions, tons of alcohol and fancy food, midnight toast actually was ready and poured for everyone on time for countdown, green things, white things, cop who lives downstairs made people do shots with him and puked in our sink (and here I thought we’d have a noise complaint or an arrest for lighting fireworks off the roof) glitter, glow, live music after dance party, and everyone (who wanted to) got laid!
I call that Succe$$!
And now all I hear is: When are you having your next party?!
Stay tuned. This old soul is still recovering 😉