Post the Twentieth: In Which The Year Ticks Over

Given that it’s already ticked by in at least two-thirds of the world, Happy New Year, Gentle Reader. I had a few ideas about what to post, but it’s a holiday, and I’ve just removed the agraffe from this bottle of champagne, so sod it. You’re getting highlights from a few New Year’s past, all rolled into one.


Last year, I hosted a glittering cocktail party at New Year’s Eve. The theme was “Black and White”, and it ended up being pot-luck. Being a swanky sort of affair, though, we ended up with things like caviar, a gravlax dish, and curried lamb. There were several friends from out-of-town that I hadn’t seen in ages, and the cocktails were never-ending – I happen to have a globe bar, from my great-uncle, and one of our friends always bartends at these functions. At midnight, the Colonel and I kicked open the front door from outside, belting out Auld Lang Syne as cheerfully as we could, while Miss K assisted by bringing everyone some of the midnight punch* we had made, which was drunk from a ladle in a silver punch bowl.


A few years ago, I had decided to go to the Mix for the holiday, but my social anxiety and the popularity of the DJ conspired against me. Further, no one that I was anticipating actually showed up. I was dressed in full white tie and tails, with my top hat – I decorate the top hat with scarves, feathers, beads, vertebrae, or whatever is appropriate for each separate occasion. At any rate, upon receiving a text from Miss N. and her young man, around 10:00, I decided to go with them to their favorite bar, Galloping Gertie‘s, named for the famous, fallen, bridge:

This bridge.

This bridge.

As it’s close to the local base, it’s quite popular with the local soldiers.  Who kept buying the queer over-dressed young man drinks. I wasn’t objecting, but shortly after midnight I did break a glass while falling squarely on my hat. I was asked to leave, for the first time from any establishment. N’s young man dropped me back off at my van (I was still driving at the time) where I intended to stay the night. I had actually planned this ahead of time, and it worked, though it was a little trashy. Foolish, but it worked out.


Many, many, moons ago, Miss Ward, her young man at the time, S., and I went to a New Year’s event at our Aunt and Uncle S’s place, in Seattle. The last time we had attended one of their events, S. and I were both too drunk to drive, so this time Miss Ward had insisted that we get a motel room. As we were young and poor, we ended up in a hotel that actually pleaded with prostitutes to not frequent their establishment, via signs on all doors. At the party itself – which was absolutely lovely, by the way; Auntie and Uncle entertain in style – three things of interest happened:

  1. While I was outside, smoking, someone handed me a cigarette. That is, to use a phrase that is ridiculously dead, a “jazz cigarette.” That’s right, it had marijuana, which I had never tried before, and wasn’t expecting. People were amused.
  2. A sixty year old woman began masturbating in front of the entire crowd. Apparently, she was so out of it, that she thought that she was at home, and not in front of forty strangers. Uncle took photos – for blackmail, I can only presume , – then gently asked her to stop.
  3. As I had been complaining about having never had a midnight kiss on New Year’s Eve before, I was kissed at midnight, rather by surprise, by a sympathetic straight man. There are also photos of that. I’m not sharing.

No matter where you are or what you’re doing, Gentle Reader, I hope that 2013 is magnificently spiffing for you. Cheers.



*Midnight Punch: It’s quite easy, although probably more appropriate for summer – I’m just an enormous fan of the principal ingredients.  In a large punch bowl, empty a fifth of St. Germaine’s Elderflower Liqueur, and a small bottle of Rose’s Sweet Lime – it’s important to use sweet lime, rather than actual lime juice. Add ice, and top off with two or three bottles of champagne or sparkling wine, depending on the size of your punch bowl. If it’s a little weak for your taste, it can be given backbone with vodka, and the other ingredients will cover the harshness. Stir.


About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
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