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New Year's Eve, you're fired

Jan 2, 2010

Before I tell you my NYE story, I want to reflect a little on 2009. My only resolution was to get happy -- and I know that sounds kind of pathetic, but my first year in DC was not easy. I learned a lot about myself and all that, but by the end of 2008 I was kind of sick of learning about myself and just wanted to have some fun! I am happy to report that I followed through on my resolution, and 2009 was one of the best of the decade! (I haven't come up with any resolutions for 2010 yet, but I'm working on it.)

I need to thank a few people now:

1) Britney Spears. You got your act together and came out with a new album, and I think it may be your best yet. Also, I love the lace tights in your "3" video and bought some to be like you. You will always be my guilty pleasure!

2) Jen Lancaster. You inspired me to write honestly, which is something I've always wanted to do. Also, you share a love of cupcakes and shoes, not to mention the 80s. I made Ashmi read "Bitter is the New Black" and she announced to me, "I know why you love her so much. She is you!"

For the readers: A couple of quotes from Jen to prove it.


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3) The fans! (Is it okay for me to call y'all that?) You motivated me to keep writing. You'll never know how much I appreciate the feedback! I promise to have lots more adventures to share with you in 2010!

And now, for the last/first adventure of 2009/2010:

First off I have to tell you that I finished the 2nd season of "The Tudors" around 6 p.m. on December 31st. If you don't know, it's about King Henry the VIII and his reign over England in the 1500s. When I really get into a book/TV show/movie, I start to think I am the character to whom I relate the most. In this case, it was Anne Boleyn (okay, can't really say I relate to her, but as a woman I felt her pain when Henry turned on her), and in the last episode of season 2 she is beheaded. I cried for the last 20 minutes of that episode, and then I realized I had a super fancy party to go to in three hours and I mustn't have puffy eyes! Luckily I recently found an amazing product that takes care of puffy eye syndrome in a few minutes, Aveda Intense Hydrating Mask.

Resolution No. 1: Buy more Aveda products, they rock!

Also, I should mention that Andy Baldwin began following me on Twitter a few days ago.  He's a former bachelor from ABC's "The Bachelor," and he lives in the DC area.  He recently posted a link to my blog and also tweeted "i love @mepper" (that's my Twitter name).  I'm not sure where all this is coming from, but what do I care?  Free publicity from a hot celebrity! Woo hoo!


I bought a sparkly blue dress on ebay and the fit was (almost) perfect, although my mother said it was too cleavagy. The concierge in my building assured me it was classy, and I starved myself all day to fit into it, so I thought I looked pretty good. I paired it with my pink puffy ski coat because it was raining (so sad I couldn't see the rare blue moon).  (Oh, I just figured out how to add pictures.  So here you go!)


Resolution No. 2: Flatten stomach so I don't have to starve myself before an event.

I grabbed a cab and picked up Jamie, my date for the evening.  We had VIP tickets to a big, fancy party at the National Building Museum.  The museum was gorgeous and our VIP tickets got us our own private room with maybe 50 other people, complete with our own bar and DJ. 

"Don't you feel like royalty?" Jamie asked me as we looked down over the balcony at the hundreds of people below.  Of course I immediately thought of Anne Boleyn and held my head a little higher, knowing mine would not be chopped off tonight.

We ventured downstairs after a little while to try to find a guy Jamie has been dating.  He had a general admission ticket, so we had to search for him through the mass of yuppies.  We circled the crowd a couple of times, but eventually Jamie realized we weren't going to find him, and he had quit texting her anyway, so he obviously wasn't looking for her.  It was almost midnight, and while I wasn't worried about having no one to kiss at the strike of 12, I felt bad for her.  Right about the moment she admitted defeat, three young looking guys surrounded us. 

After complimenting us on how gorgeous we were and how we should stick with them, I said, "Y'all are sweet, but I think we're a little old for you."

"How old are you?  23?" my guy asked.

"Um, no, a little older."  A lady does not reveal her age.

"30?" he tried again.

"Ehh, not quite, around there."

"Well that's the golden age!  That's the age guys like us want our women to be, you're so experienced and low drama!"

Jamie whispered in my ear, "So now we're golden girls?  Let's get out of here!"

I was glad, because a few minutes later was the big moment, and I didn't want those guys to think we wanted them to kiss us.  We counted down to midnight and pecked each other on the cheek then went back upstairs to our VIP room.  Jamie glanced over at a tall, blonde hottie across the room, so I grabbed her hand and pulled her over to him.

"Hi!" I said to the guy. "You need to meet my friend Jamie!"  Then I noticed he had a friend with him, a short, skinny, nerdy looking sidekick.  I took one for the team and talked to Sidekick so Jamie and tall hottie, who claimed he was an Air Force pilot (but couldn't tell me where he was stationed or what plane he flies), could get to know each other.  Eventually they all decided we should go to the after party at George in Georgetown.

We stepped outside into the cool air, which was so refreshing after dancing and being in the hot, crowded museum.  Everyone was trying to get a cab at the same time, so I suggested we walk up a block where so many people weren't congregated.  Jamie and Fake Air Force Pilot wanted to try to get one where they were standing, so Sidekick and I crossed the street to look for a cab elsewhere.  I had dropped my coat below my shoulders to get some air flow on my neck, and as we crossed I heard a guy say to his friend, "That girl looks like a prostitute." 

I stopped in my tracks and looked back at him.  "Did you really just say that?"

"Well, you do," he said and kept on walking.

(Okay, fine, Mother, you win.)

I stood in the middle of the street, mouth agape, unsure of what to do next.  Then something in me snapped.  My 4-inch heels propelled me forward and I stomped up the sidewalk to catch up with him.  As I got closer, testosterone pumped through my veins and I clenched my fist.  What happened next I did for Jamie, for Anne Boleyn, for all the women of the world who had been wronged by jerky white boys who didn't deserve to bask in our beauty!!!  I took a deep breath, braced myself and then...

"HOW RUDE!" I yelled at him.

That's right, I channeled Stephanie Tanner and REALLY gave it to him. 

Of course I was thinking, Is that all you've got?  Punch him!  PUNCH HIM!  Unfortunately I don't know how to punch, but Sidekick held me back anyway. 

"It's not worth it!" he yelled as the jerky guy took a step back.

Just then Jamie called me.  "We have a cab!  Get over here!"

I sat in the front seat and tried to pull it together, but I couldn't stop the tears from coming.  The cab driver looked over at me uncomfortably, and after a few minutes everyone was trying to make me laugh, but I was too angry to humor them.  However, I hated being the source of tension, so I asked the cabbie, "Do I look like a prostitute?!!"

Ever the genius, he answered neither yes nor no.  "Who said that to you?"

"Some stupid boy!" I cried.

"Well you should have told him he and his boyfriend made a really cute couple." 

Well why didn't I think of that???

Resolution No. 3: Develop a cache of zingy comebacks for jerky boys.

When we arrived in Georgetown (couldn't get dropped off at the bar because Georgetown is so flippin crowded) the guys got out and waited for us on the sidewalk.  Um, 'scuse me?  Who's paying for this?  Jamie opened her wallet.  "I only have three dollars, do you have any cash?"  I had plenty of cash, but I was not paying.  I rolled down my window.

"Do either of you have cash to pay the cab driver?"

Fake Pilot ignored me and looked away, and Sidekick pulled out his wallet.  "All I have is a fifty."

"That'll work!" I said cheerfully. 

As we walked toward the bar, I laughed at all the drunk people lying on the ground.  Guys had passed out, and girls were falling all over their high heels, many of them crying. ("He didn't text me!!!  WAAAAAH!") 

"This is so pathetic," I told Sidekick.  "I mean, come on people, learn your limit.  Getting that drunk to the point of falling down is irresponsible and unnecessary.  I'm so glad I'm not like tha..."

Suddenly my foot was turning perpendicular to my shoe and the sidewalk was coming closer and closer to my face.  BAM!  Right on my knee.  Sidekick scrambled to help me up (why didn't he catch me before I ripped a huge hole in my brand new stockings?). 

Now really, how could this night get worse?

We walked inside and Sidekick offered to check our coats.  Jamie and I handed them over and made our way to the bar.  We all talked for a little while, but it turns out Fake Pilot had no personality, so Jamie tired of him and led me away from them.  As we were walking through the crowd of drunk girls in ridiculously short skirts, a guy stopped us and smiled at me.

"You are soooooooo hot!"

"Um, thanks," I replied.

"Oh my gaaaaaaaaw, I'm sooooooooooo drunk!" he followed.

I scratched my head and looked over at Jamie for help, but she was talking to his friend.  When I looked back at my guy he was leaning in to me with his lips puckered.  I took a step back.

"Can I kiss you?" he said.

"No, sorry."

He leaned in again, swaying a little, and I was afraid he might fall on me.  "You want to kiss me, I can tell!"

"Um, you really are reading me wrong, then, because I really don't."

He looked disappointed, so I offered him an alternative.  "Look at all those gorgeous, fun girls over there!  I officially release you to go flirt with them.  No offense here."

"But I want to talk to you!  Let's just talk, I'm a really good listener."

I caught Jamie's eye and visually pleaded for help.  She nodded, took my hand, and led me to the coat check.  "Are you ready to go?  I am," she told me.  While we stood in line I saw Fake Pilot and Sidekick leave.  At first I felt bad, but then I realized Sidekick had our coat check ticket.  I ran outside after them, but they were gone.  I figured there had to be a way around the ticket.

When we reached the front of the line we explained to the guy that we didn't have our ticket.  He didn't seem to know English, so I pulled out all the Spanish words I could muster. 

"No tarjeta!  Chaqueta rosa y chaqueta negro, por favor!" 

Resolution No. 4: Brush up on Spanish.  You never know when you'll need it!

"No ticket, no coat" were apparently the only English words he knew.  So I found someone who worked there and asked for assistance.  "Sorry, we have a strict policy, no ticket, no coat." 

"Well how do I get my coat?  Y'all must have dealt with this before," I said.

"You'll have to speak to an owner."

After more waiting, an owner came over.  "Ladies, do you have a ticket?"

"No," Jamie explained.  "That's the problem, our friends ditched us and they had checked the coats."

"Then I suggest you call them."

"But we didn't know them!  PLEASE!"

"How do I know you aren't thieves?" he accused us.

"Look," I said.  "Our coats aren't even that nice.  And I can give you very specific details about mine.  In the right pocket there's a green doggie poopie bag.  See?  How would I know that?" 

"Do you have a ticket?!" he asked us again. 

"Why are you being so mean?!" Jamie asked, her voice raising in pitch. 

"No ticket, no coat!" he said again then walked away.

Jamie fell back against the wall, her eyes welling up.  This is not how this night was going to end.  I stomped after him, determined to have justice and also not be cold.

"Excuse me, sir, but you are being extremely rude (there I go with 'rude' again -- wow, I am just full of zingers!).  We are paying customers and this is ridiculous.  You must have some procedure for people in our situation."

"I'm sorry I was rude, but I will be held liable if they aren't your coats," he said.  I rolled my eyes, and as I did they picked up a burst of color on the floor.  No, it couldn't be...

I bent down and picked up a pink poofy ski jacket with a green doggie poopie bag in the right pocket.  Then I felt around on the floor and found a black poofy ski jacket.  I held them up in victory.  See!  We weren't lying!   The owner smiled and offered to get me a drink to make up for it all, but I was so done with the evening, so I said no thanks and emerged into the coat check area.

"WHAT???" Jamie said in disbelief. 

"That's right, that nerdy jerk didn't check them, he dropped them on the floor in the middle of the bar.  Let's get out of here." 

When I got home I checked my Twitter.  I had another message from Andy Baldwin: "What's your New Year's Resolution @mepper?"

"To eat pizza," I wrote back.  And after I got my tight dress off, I did just that.

One down, and four to go I guess! Let's make that number rounder -- from the suggestion of an old high school buddy, Taylor: Resolution No. 5: EAT MORE CHOCOLATE!

Don't worry, after NYE I'm already workin' on it.