To New Year’s Eve: Bah, humbug!

I hate to be a curmudgeon but—no, wait, I actually love to be a curmudgeon. And in the interest of as much curmudgeonly, Andy-Rooney-esque behavior as possible for the remaining hours of 2009, I would like to go on the record as saying I dislike New Year’s Eve.

I was going to say “hate,” but that’s a strong word, and I don’t blame the day itself for society’s annoying fun-for-the-masses consumerist approach to it, or the bummed-outness which that inevitably brings.

When was the last time you had fun—and I mean really, truly fun, not just the kind of fun you feel obligated to have because you’re paying through the nose or waiting in line surrounded by drunks in freezing conditions—on New Year’s Eve? (Because if you’re not actually having fun doing that, you’re just … not so smart, now, are you?)

My favorite New Year’s Eve was when I was in middle school. Since I was a middle-schooler, I wasn’t going out with friends or expecting the most romantic evening yet or drinking myself into a stupor.

My mother, brother, and I (Dad had long since gone to bed) stayed up to watch the ball drop and just got generally goofy, blowing on New Year’s horns, throwing confetti, and wearing ridiculous hats.

I went to get my brother good with a particularly violent toot of a paper whistle, and, to my surprise, it recoiled and bounced back at me, hitting me in the eye. Which may well have been a symbol for things to come.

We all dissolved in laughter, and then the ball dropped, the cat licked the remaining popcorn, and we went to bed. I didn’t even have a hangover the next day.

There’s so much pressure related to the holiday nowadays. You know, it’s your last night of the year, even the decade, you better blow it out and have as much fun as you can. But with great pressure comes great disappointment.

Not to mention, everyone is out there trying to do the same thing, so you can’t get cabs, or into the good restaurants—and if you do, the meals are twice the price. It’s just not worth it.

And there’s a certain lack of insight in capping off a recessionary, semi-unemployed year by spending a lot of money on something that’s not even worth it, right?

I say, have fun through the year, maybe even blow it out New Year’s Eve Eve, and then on the 31st, you can feel superior when you stay in, order a pizza, and watch Mad Men, or the ball drop, with a close friend or two.

Which is exactly what I’ll be doing, not to toot my own horn. (Unless I change my mind, which as a curmudgeon I reserve the right to do.)