In theory, the final day of 2013 should be a reflection of the year as a whole, right? I like this concept. It’s neat and organized and poetic. It wraps up the year nicely, giving you a fitting full-circle ending. You may tell yourself you’re going to stay up all night, fork over hundreds of dollars for a ticket to whatever hot club party everyone’s going to this year, and drink until your eyeballs turn into champagne bubbles, but are you really going to? Are you really? Those are mere expectations. The following is what will probably happen on any given characteristically underwhelming December 31st.
12:00am: Get to bed at a reasonable hour to prepare for a productive and efficient final day. After all, 2013 was all about getting shit done.
11:50am: Wake up nice and early.
12:05pm: Stare into the depths of the fridge until there is a magical breakfast apparition.
12:10pm: Nothing appears, so you make oatmeal. It kinda sucks, which doesn’t really make sense. All you have to do is mix the packet and 2/3 cups water, and then microwave for a minute. Boom, easy. Nope. Terrible every time. Never the right consistency.
12:40pm: Alright. Gotta think of something clever to text Katie. Google “good text conversation starters with girls” to get some ideas.
12:55pm: Eh, Katie’s not even that hot.
1:00pm: Watch YouTube clips of Jennifer Lawrence interviews.
￼1:20pm: Make a collage of Jennifer Lawrence pictures on Microsoft Paint.
1:35pm: Try to print your collage so you can hang it on your wall, but the printer is out of paper. The collage is pretty good stuff, so you debate posting it on Facebook, but decide against the idea, because you don’t want Katie to think you’re into anyone other than her.
1:40pm: Finally get around to rearranging your Spotify playlists to create a more enjoyable music-listening experience going forward. Finding new music proves to be difficult and the whole organization process is tedious, so you just listen to Yeezus and The 20/20 Experience on repeat until you get bored.
2:15pm: Take a shit. I mean, what do you want me to tell you, that you don’t poop? Of course you poop. If this thing is going to be accurate, we’re going to have to include defecation.
2:25pm: Drive to the gym equipped with a printed out CrossFit regimen that you found online. Upon your arrival, realize all the necessary equipment is occupied, so you run a mile and a half on the treadmill and go home.
3:10pm: Watch Pitch Perfect for the fourteenth time.
5:10pm: Stroll into the kitchen to eat an apple, but make a crucial audible and eat a cheese stick instead. Who doesn’t love cheese sticks?
5:15pm: Read half a chapter of Catching Fire before deciding you’ll watch the movie eventually.
5:45pm: Browse Katie’s Facebook. It hasn’t been updated in a few weeks, but those same eleven profile pictures aren’t just going to stare at themselves.
￼6:00pm: Sit down and rack your brain for a good tweet. Problem is, your Twitter game is not where it needs to be, so you force yourself to stare at your computer screen until you think of something witty and topical. Unsatisfied, you publish something subpar.
6:20pm: What? No favorites? Okay, delete that shit. You’re not trying to be a hero.
6:25pm: Dinner time. Peruse the online menus of local restaurants to quickly decide what you want delivered.
7:45pm: Okay, you’ve decided. It’ll be here in an hour, so if you’re counting at home, that means in the time it took you to decide what you wanted until you’re actually eating, you could have made enough sandwiches to feed a small island inhabited by 20-30 people (also, a large island, provided it is also inhabited by only 20-30 people).
8:35pm: Eat your chicken parm sub. It sucks, but it came early, so you’re feelin’ good.
8:50pm: Send this exact text to your closest 26 friends: “Hey whatsup, anything goin on tonite?”
9:05pm: Consider texting Katie to see what she’s up to, but decide to check her Instagram instead, as it will accomplish what you’re looking to do without having to interact with her. Oh, shit. Is she with a guy?
9:15pm: Flip through Tinder so fast your face would fall off. Lay on your couch, stare at your phone, and judge people strictly on their looks for 45 minutes. #America!
10:00pm: Devour two sleeves of Double Stuf Oreos. You’re going on a diet tomorrow, so it’s cool.
10:20pm: Walk down to the bar, wait in line for a few minutes, pay the cover, and enter.
10:30pm: Decide this whole dancing thing is not for you. Head to the corner to stand with your beer.
10:33pm: Decide that this whole standing in the corner with your beer thing is not for you. Squeeze your way through traffic and sit down at the bar.
10:40pm: Decide this whole bar thing is not for you. Walk home. Nah, scratch that. Take a cab home.
11:15pm: Alright, let’s see. What’s on Netflix?
11:50pm: Okay, Breaking Bad it is. Wait. 11:50? Never mind.
11:55pm: Check your phone to make sure your most recent text to Katie was delivered. It was. She just hasn’t responded yet. Good night.