I, the Single Guy, party the hardest on New Year’s. It’s what I do. Why wouldn’t I? If 2008 is going to be the year of the Single Guy, I’ve got to ring it in in proper fashion: By Rocking Out with My Cock Out.

When most people think “New Year’s Eve”, they think counting down to midnight. That mindset is fucking stupid. NYE should be viewed as an all day affair.

There are too many awesome things about today to limit the good times to just one party. There’s alcohol. There’s the day off work. There’s waking up to Egg McMuffins chased by bloody mary’s. There’s reminiscing about how awesome you were the previous year. There’s getting a pass for acting like a jackass. And–most importantly–there’s the even lessened inhibitions of chicks with low self esteem.

NYE is about forcing your way in assorted bars at 11 AM before they open and coercing the manager to serve you and your friends. It’s about cursing the flat screen and whatever flat-footed retard of a quarterback just threw an interception, costing you a couple hundred bucks. It’s about running game at your waitress, asking her what her plans are for the evening, and then calling her an ugly prude behind her back after she tells you she’s going to dinner with her boyfriend.

It’s about attending a crowded hotel party where everyone is an amateur, where you and your friends are the select few that can drink liquor all day and still form complete sentences. It’s about preying on the packs of mediocre chicks grazing the dance floor. It’s about taking complete advantage of the ones waiting for any dude with a pulse and a decent job to give them an inkling of hope that they’ll someday find someone.

NYE is about ringing in a fresh year and a fresh start by getting drunk and making bad decisions, Single Guy Style. It’s about waking up naked, realizing the condom is still on, and trying to remember the fake name you used the night before.

Happy Fucking New Year!

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