We all just hung out, played several random drinking games, taking cigarette breaks out on the patio. Eric, who is half-Jewish, regaled us with his version of Hebrew, which I caught on video. We ate copious amounts of tasty food, from dips to chicken cutlet hero to puff pastry thingees to Swedish meatballs. My younger sister even brought Krispy Kreme. Sick, sick, sick amounts of food. There was also some pressed ham when my sister-in-law, Joe and I put our bare asses against the patio window and knocked, and then mayhem ensued when Bill quickly yanked the blinds shut again, ripping the cord right off the wall. Eric was a little upset, but we did manage to fix it.

There was wrestling, there was wedgies, some female arm wrestling, and a little homosexual crotch-grabbing. But I guess if you went to college with the guys you are crotch-grabbing, it�s not really considered gay. I don�t know, that�s how they explained it.

We realized, in the middle of a round of asshole, that we had 1minute and 32 seconds until the ball dropped, and in what can only be described as a feat of the fantastic, Bob and I managed to retreive four bottles of champagne off the deck, open them in the kitchen, and pour 12 glasses before midnight. New Years record or holiday miracle? You decide.

Unfortunately, this is where our story goes downhill a bit. I started drinking champagne like it was my job. I went from pleasantly buzzed to atrociously ill in about 10 minutes. Commence quiet vomiting in the bathroom (seriously, people are always telling me what a quiet vomiter I am � I�ve never been one of those �hold my hair� kind of pukers) and subsequent passing out on the couch. I missed the part where Joe made Eric do laundry at 3:00 a.m., as he was worried that the champagne spilled on his sweater would stain. And the part where the Bob and Joe cuddled on the Aerobed, because none of the women would cuddle with them (I might have been game, had it not been for the champagne coma). By morning Bob was on the floor, claiming �claustrophobia�. That�s what they�re calling it these days?

Morning was not pretty for anyone, but especially me, when three sips of bright blue Gatorade had me quietly hissing for my sister to get out of the bathroom, seriously fearing the humiliation of bright blue puke on the white carpeting. Once that was over with, regular water managed to stay in the belly just fine.

We spent the day eating more, browsing Target for games, and playing Taboo (which I rock at ... who knew?). Then we all went to see Big Fish (a decent film, though I fear many of the finer parts are lost to me, as I couldn�t comprehend not knowing your own father), and then, FINALLY, we drove home and went to bed.