I still can’t stop laughing.
That would be my stubborn face. Evidently, my New Years goal was to thwart anyone who told me to put my shoes on in the bar (read: everyone).
It appears I was going for the Stuart life approach.
What? You can’t see it? Let’s take a closer look.
Nobody even knows.
I’m confident I had that on my face for an extended period of time. You’re welcome, everybody at that bar in D.C. I’m sure that was a crapton of fun to watch.
And apparently I got it off at some point.
If you’re curious as to why I would have chocolate sauce on my face, I’ll give you some shots of shots.
It wasn’t chocolate sauce, though. After careful picture studying, it had to be the empenada or chicken on a stick sauce we nabbed off trays in the bar.
Possible New Years Resolution: eat without getting food all over face.
We were told by the all-knowing Yoda of the ABC store that mixing Pinnacle Whipped and Pinnacle Cake = a twinkie. Naturally, logic told us to mix the two, add chocolate sauce, and call them twinkie bombs.
Twinkies? No. Good? Yes.
(It’s Anastasia‘s birthday today! Happy birthday, gorgeous friend. I love you to pieces.)
I got yelled at for getting the Greek icon in the kitchen to dance. Apparently, she doesn’t want any part of Beyonce.
Speaking of “Single Ladies,” it was played several times. And the dance was done every. single. time.
See how elusive that DJ is? So inconvenient for all the Chris Brown I was trying to request. I spent a lot of my night asking the bartenders how I could “get up there to speak to him.”
In retrospect, I was probably turned down repeatedly because I was the chick with the crap on her face.
And the best part of New Year’s Eve was most definitely my midnight kiss.
For the second year in a row.
We spent the entirety of yesterday looking at the pictures over and over again. I can’t decide if everything is just hysterical in 2012 or if I just really had that great of a New Year’s celebration.