01.02.03 - 3:48 p.m.

I was drunk on New Year's Eve. Drunk enough that people were laughing at what I said, and drunk enough that I can't remember the context of many of my ramblings. I snuggled up to Dan at one point and mumbled, "I want to marry you," to which he responded, "I'm working on it," to which I responded, "I want to marry the queso." Then I poked at my little fat roll hanging over my jeans and moaned, "oh no!"

Then I told Dan he couldn't write about the exchange in his diary. Sucker! I got first serial rights!

The title quote comes from some comment I was making about Dick Clark, but you can read all about our New Year's Vaguely Rockin' Eve-bashing here. I do remember shouting, "I love Dick!" [major pause] "Clark!" But the rest of it is kind of a blur. There was some discussion of the Osbournes as we watched the marathon on MTV, and I think Matt kept nodding politely as I gave a soapbox speech defending my love for Ozzy. Suffice to say, I was drinking champagne more or less constantly for six hours. And it wasn't even J.Roget!

People at work are afraid of the pallid bat. I'm getting funny looks. I may have to trade him in for a less offensive desktop picture.

Anyhoo. I dreamt last night that I walked into Bethie's room in Engelhart (which was a tad more spacious than a real room in Engelhart, but not by much) and she had left a note for me on her bed containing her latest updated entry with reasons for the long Diaryland absence. And lo and behold, what did I see when I signed into Diaryland this morning but an update from Bethie?

Of course, what she actually wrote was different from the note in my dream, but still. Is my subconscious tuned into some cosmic gossip channel that my conscious mind knows nothing about? I'm a little tweaked by the coincidence.

And it's not a resolution, but will someone PLEASE make me go to the dentist this month? I'm six months overdue and it's very out of character for me to ignore my dental health this way.