New Year’s Eve is always a bust for me. Always. I usually wind up being the guy holding some girl’s hair as she loses her cookies with the Countdown happening in the other room.
Last night, I was convinced to ring in the New Year in Orange County. We thought we were going to the Mardi Gras party where they drop the orange ball, with Bourbon Street Bars, and bands like Berlin and the Psychedelic Furs.
Apparently, there were TWO Mardi Gras parties in the OC.
We went to Mardi Gras Carnivale at the OC Fair. Lame drinks. Lame casino games. Lame entertainment. The most amusing moment had to be when the Donnas were performing. I’ve never seen so many confused middle-aged people in my life. Maybe they were expecting the Bangles.