True, it might be January 3rd, but tons of sparkling confetti is still swirling outside the office window in Times Square. (Self is located behind the Nasdaq sign at 42nd and Times Square, which gives me a great view of the pandemonium outside.) On New Year’s Eve, Eric and I checked out the beginnings of the insanity in Tourist Central. Vendors had, for the time, swapped fake Rolexes and pashminas for 2007 joke glasses and noisemakers. We came around 2 or 3 in the afternoon, and people had already staked out their spots. Um, thanks, but sitting on cold concrete for 12 hours to see a flashing ball drop for 3 seconds doesn’t sound like fun.

What did sound like fun: Playing drinking games with Eric and James at Donna and Dave’s studio in Midtown. We brought a 12-pack of Coronas to supplement the MGD bottles and Jell-O shots, then played 99, Asshole and Smoke/Fire. To attest to the mind-changing properties of alcohol, Eric and I agreed to go to a bar afterwards to watch the ball drop. I can’t remember exactly seeing the ball drop, but I do remember that the entire bar counted down from 10 at least three times. We were a little confused.

On the long walk back to the subway, I shouted “happy New Year!” to almost everyone we passed – especially the zillions of cops on the streets. Most of them were nice and waved back to me.

Yesterday was not so nice, though. Eric and I slept til 2 – the longest I’ve slept in since I don’t know when – and stumbled through the day with an upset stomach and a raging headache. I was grateful for the rainy weather because I didn’t feel guilty for not being able to move from the couch or get out of my bathrobe.

I’ve been reading random Web sites today at work and all of them seem to talk about New Year’s resolutions. I guess since this note will go on the Web, I should have a resolution, too, but I’ve had trouble coming up with a worthwhile one. Perhaps I’ll write a follow-up post: New Year’s: The Sequel.

Until then, happy 2007!