Good news, 2012! That ass massage I gave 2011 worked out so well that I’m pretty sure there’s fellatio in your future!

Two years ago today, while hurtling headlong toward a depression-induced midlife crisis (or a midlife-crisis-induced depression; either way), I had the audacity to tell 2010 I was going to kick its ass. Those of you who’ve been here for a while now know how well that worked out. (SPOILER: Really shitty!)

One year ago today, I proffered an epic mea culpa to 2011 by promising to massage its ass with exotic oils while feeding it hand-peeled grapes and telling it how wise and attractive and thin and youthful-looking it was. And in return for my whorish behavior, 2011 rewarded me with a perfectly vanilla year.

And that’s just fine with me.

Last night, we bid farewell to the delightfully milquetoast 2011 by taking the kids to a super-nice, ridiculously pricey restaurant that they had absolutely no ability to appreciate (another of my stellar ideas!), after which we returned home, donned party hats, poured a couple drinks and watched the kids run apeshit around the yard while blowing kazoos as loud as kazoos can be blown — and documented it all with some terrible flash photography:

Girl reveler

Boy reveler

Moderately inebriated middle-aged male reveler, expertly photographed in mid-blink by moderately inebriated wife.

In closing: 2011 was a year for catching my breath and recovering after being battered about the head in 2010 … but I’m hoping to make 2012 a bit more noteworthy … and I’m willing to do whatever it takes.

Happy New Year, you guys.

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