NYE 2012 came and went and my ass is still clean and sober bitches!!! it was pretty uneventful where action, drama and party is concerned. Never in a million trillion bazillion years did I EVER see myself doing the chill deal, cooking dinner for two and watching that stupid ball drop on TV with Anderson Cooper and Kathy Griffin (she’s still making fun of Ryan Seacrest…which is like sooo god damned yawn worthy). The biggest shit kicker of all was the bubbly apple cider that was popped open after the countdown. I ask you, whose life is this? What’s my name again?
Lame, I know, but there’s always the alternative, which went something along the lines of me being a drinking and drugging sloppy mess and then diving into a dance floor ten seconds and counting into the New Year and exchanging spit with a bunch of kissing bandits and then screaming “HAPPY NEW YEAR” even though all parties involved know that the hangover will look and feel a lot like the old year that Jan 1st.
Truth is I hate New Years Eve. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Nothing symbolizes the passing of time like that god awful countdown—ever reminding us that–like hello–wake up bitch! Time is ticking. Tic-Toc-Tic-Toc.
Instead of crawling out of a gutter in 2012, my ass crawled up Runyon Canyon for a good hike with my Boo and my pup (YES!!! ME!!! With a puppy!!! The gay white fluffy kind!!! Which goes to show that what you resist, persists). The trails were packed with Angelenos—I’m talkin’ about hot sweaty shirtless guys trying to start the year right. We all looked like a bunch of ants climbing up an anthill from the far distance, I’m sure.
This isn’t what I expected my life to look like at this point in the game, but it’s all good, my name is PAULO MURILLO. I love the life I live. I’m grateful. It’s good to be alive. And junk.
HAPPY NEW YEAR DARRLINKS!!!