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A Very Zombie New Year by Nancy Holzner

January 1, 2010

Happy Zombie New Year!!!

It is finally here!

The day…ur…night (had to wait until the sun had fully set for the Zombies to come out), we have all been waiting for when we finally get to ring in the new year and party with the Zombies! Or for those of you, ‘Norms’ out there who are to scared to actually party with the Zombies you get a voyeuristic peek at how they celebrate the beginning of a new year in their undead lives.

I am really excited about this guest post, by Nancy Holzner. I was expecting a fairly short post about how the Zombies in Deadtown would party on New Year’s Eve, but what I got far exceeded my wildest expectations. Nancy written a short story, prequel to her debut novel Deadtown, that can be found exclusively here at Book Obsessed!!! (For awhile – I’m not laying a permanent claim or anything.)  How awesome is that? Pretty damned awesome if you ask me!

The story takes place on New Year’s Eve, 1 year prior to the events that take place in the novel. I hope you enjoy the party as much as I did.  (Giveaway information at end of post)

My review of Deadtown can be found by clicking here.

Cheers,

Heather

A Very Zombie New Year

by Nancy Holzner

 
Nobody should be alone on New Year’s Eve. Not a human, not a zombie. Not even a shapeshifter who’s been abandoned by everyone she knows.
 
Feeling sorry for myself? Yeah, okay, maybe I was a little. Hard not to when I was sitting alone in an empty apartment, holding a mug of cold coffee in one hand and the TV remote in the other, clicking through channel after channel of Nothing That’s Any Damn Good.
 
My sister Gwen had packed up her family and gone to spend the holidays with Mom in Florida. Juliet, my vampire roommate, was out hunting, looking for norms who were drunk enough that their blood alcohol level would give her a buzz. Champagne, especially. She says it tickles her fangs.
 
Even tonight’s client had canceled. New Year’s Eve, he said, was the one night he wasn’t going to worry about the personal demons that infested his dreams and tormented him with nightmares. Instead, he was going to party until dawn and drink until he passed out.
 
Great. Maybe the guy would hook up with Juliet.
 
And then there was Kane. Well, no, there wasn’t, and that was the problem. He wasn’t sitting here beside me, where I could snuggle against his warm, muscular chest and inhale his scent of moonlit pine forest. Where I could see the smile glow in his gray eyes as we clinked champagne glasses at midnight and kissed under the mistletoe. Well, maybe not mistletoe. Kane was allergic. It was a werewolf thing.
 
Anyway, it was hard to do those things when he was nearly three hours’ drive away, in western Massachusetts. Kane was a lawyer, and he was working on a landmark paranormal rights case making its way through the appeals courts. He’d had to go to Pittsfield this afternoon to take a deposition. The weather forecast had predicted flurries, but a surprise blizzard blew in and closed the turnpike from West Stockbridge to Ludlow. Which meant Kane was stuck in the Berkshires overnight.
 
I sighed, wishing I could run my hands through his silver hair, thick and coarse like a wolf’s fur. I wished I could loosen his tie and lean in for a deep, never-ending kiss as the clock struck twelve.
 
Not tonight. Kane’s work as a civil rights attorney was important. And not only to him, but to all the paranormals who were struggling to gain legal recognition throughout the country, standardizing the state-by-state patchwork of laws that gave us limited rights in some areas and absolutely none in others. Important work. I knew that, and I admired Kane’s passion. It was just that, tonight, it would’ve been nice if he’d reserved some of that passion for me.
 
Not his fault, I reminded myself. He hadn’t called up a blizzard.
 
But here I sat, alone on my living room sofa, flipping channels on Juliet’s big-screen TV and trying to decide what to watch: an old black-and-white movie, mediocre pop singers lip-synching to corny songs, or a bunch of norms screaming and whooping and milling around Times Square waiting for the ball to drop.
 
I lifted the coffee mug to my lips, but the liquid was cold and bitter, and I set it down on the end table. The hell with it. I clicked off the TV and tossed the remote aside. I wasn’t going to sit around the apartment feeling pathetic. I grabbed my jacket and stuffed my arms into the sleeves. Nobody should be alone on New Year’s Eve. I was going to find a party.
 
And I knew just where to look for one: Creature Comforts, my favorite monster bar in the New Combat Zone. It was only eleven thirty. I could be there in ten minutes.
 
As I hurried through my building’s lobby, I waved to Clyde, the doorman, who was sharing munchies with a family of zombies from the second floor. A minister before the plague, Clyde was the most prim and proper zombie in all of Deadtown. Tonight, though, he sported a shiny green party hat and twirled a noisemaker in response to my wave. Even Clyde was in the mood for a celebration.
 
I stepped outside and got a fistful of snow blown into my face. The blizzard that had shut down the Mass Pike to the west was now whiting out Boston, but that didn’t slow things down here. Why should it? Zombies don’t feel the cold, and most of them don’t have cars to slip and slide around icy streets. Since zombies couldn’t leave Deadtown unless accompanied by a permit-carrying norm, there was nowhere for them to drive.
 
But tonight was different. The Council of Three, the vampire-werewolf-zombie triumvirate that governs Deadtown, had declared New Year’s Eve a holiday and issued an order that residents would not be required to produce a permit to leave the area. All that really meant was that they could pass through the Deadtown checkpoint and wander the New Combat Zone—the block between the checkpoints to Deadtown on one side and human-controlled Boston on the other—without being hassled. But to most zombies, that was unheard-of freedom.
 
Now, as I hurried toward the Tremont Street checkpoint, my collar turned up against the snow, zombies filled the streets, laughing and shouting. Many were dressed in gowns or tuxedos accessorized with pointed party hats, tiaras, plastic leis, beads. Odd to see black ties and satin cocktail dresses on folks who had gray-green, spongy skin; crimson eyes; and various body parts missing or decaying. Still, the dressed-up zombies gave Deadtown’s streets a festive atmosphere. Some were headed to neighborhood parties, but many were taking the opportunity to go through the checkpoint, maybe just to see what it felt like to be on the other side of those gates. Or else, like me, they planned to celebrate in one of the monster bars that lined the New Combat Zone.
 
The checkpoint line was long, but with no permits to scrutinize, everyone shuffled through quickly. The zombie guard swiped my ID card, sang out, “Happy New Year,” and pressed a button to raise the gate. Even through the heavy snow, I didn’t have to squint to see the cop car lights strobing away near the checkpoint at the other end of the block. The clear message: No one enters human-controlled Boston without paperwork. I guess the norms weren’t in the mood to party with zombies tonight.
 
Too bad. Because the zombies were ready for fun. New Year’s Eve was shaping up to be a major holiday for the undead. For one thing, it’s the only holiday that’s celebrated in the middle of the night, which is the middle of the workday in Deadtown. More important, it comes after what everyone else calls “the holidays.” Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa—whatever they celebrated before the plague, Deadtown’s zombies pretty much ignored those holidays now. They were family times, and most families didn’t want a zombie sitting by the Christmas tree, chugging eggnog by the gallon, scarfing down handfuls of Christmas cookies, and fumbling with stiff fingers trying to unwrap presents. I mean, what do you even buy a zombie for a present?
 
That’s how the norms rationalized leaving the zombies out of their get-togethers. And it meant that those holidays were quiet, even somber, in Deadtown. But New Year’s Eve was like a relief valve, letting off all the emotional steam that had built up since Thanksgiving, during the weeks that zombies tried not to think about the families they weren’t hearing from, the families that didn’t want them any more.
 
Outside Creature Comforts, a hulking figure hunched on a stool by the door, next to a hand-lettered cardboard sign:
 
No Humans
 
Private Party
 
$20 Cover Charge
 
I pulled out my wallet. “What’s the cover charge for?” I asked the bouncer. “Did Axel book a band?”
 
He raised his head. In the depths of the hood I could make out small, round, yellowish eyes and a big, hooked nose. A shaggy beard covered the lower half of his face, balancing the bushy eyebrows. He looked like something that chased children through their worst dreams, snapping his teeth as he tried to catch and eat them. This guy had to be related to Axel, the bar’s owner. The two of them looked like a pair of bookends—the kind of bookends you’d use if you didn’t want anyone going anywhere near your books. Ever.
 
“No band,” he said. “Glass of champagne at midnight. And snacks.”
 
OK, the snacks made sense. For zombies, there’s not much point in drinking—their metabolism burns off the alcohol before they can catch a buzz—but they do eat. And eat. And then eat some more. With Creature Comforts taken over by zombies, Axel wouldn’t be selling a lot of booze tonight, but he’d have to keep the bowls of bar snacks filled or he’d have a riot on his hands. Axel’s a big, scary guy. No one’s sure what species he is, and even the vampires are a little afraid of him. But a few dozen hungry zombies climbing over the bar and ransacking the storeroom in search of more potato chips might be too much even for Axel to handle.
 
Still, twenty bucks seemed steep for a shapeshifter. It wasn’t like I’d eat my weight in beer nuts or anything. But there wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to be tonight. I pulled out two tens.
 
The bouncer demanded to see my ID before he’d take my money. For a second, I felt flattered at getting carded, but then I realized he was checking my species, not my age. A lot of paranormals would love to pass as human, but tonight the message was you don’t look like you belong.
 
For a minute, I kind of knew how the zombies felt.
 
The bouncer gave me back my ID card and turned his attention to the zombie couple behind me. I pulled open the bar’s heavy oak door, and warm air puffed out with that unmistakable Creature Comforts scent. I took a deep, happy breath. No other bar in the Zone has quite the same aroma—a combination of spilled beer, smoke, a faint undernote of decay, and the slightest whiff of human blood. Some say that Axel pumps artificial blood scent through the air vents to give Creature Comforts an edgy feel, but I don’t believe it. Not tonight, anyway. Not with all these zombies. Zombies have this little problem called “frenzied blood lust”; the smell of human blood drives them wild with hunger. And with no actual humans around to gnaw on, they’d eat Axel out of business, twenty-dollar cover charge or not.
 
The place was packed. I spotted a group of werewolves sitting near the back, but otherwise it was wall-to-wall zombies. (No vampires tonight. They’d be wherever the humans were.) I turned left and shouldered my way through the crowd toward the bar. Axel had gone all out to decorate the place—if you call “going all out” taping some tinsel garlands to the wall and tacking up a Happy New Year sign over the bar. Still, since Creature Comforts’ usual ambiance came from forty-watt light bulbs, cracked linoleum, and duct-tape-patched vinyl seats, tinsel garlands were downright festive.
 
I snagged the last stool at the bar. Axel loomed a few feet away, emptying two giant bags of pretzels, one in each hand, into a bowl the size of a washtub. He looked up, saw me, and nodded. He handed the pretzel tub to some eager zombies, and then walked over to me, wiping his hands on a bar towel. He raised his shaggy eyebrows.
 
“Club soda, please.” I rarely drink—I don’t like the taste of alcohol. A sip of champagne at midnight would be enough for me. Axel brought over two glasses—my club soda and a plastic flute of pale-gold champagne with bubbles skittering up the side. “Almost midnight,” he said. The clock behind the bar confirmed it; less than fifteen minutes to go before a brand-new year began. At least I wouldn’t be alone. Not with several dozen zombies cramming the room.
 
Axel put a tray on the counter and filled it with champagne glasses, and then he began pouring. The liquid foamed up quickly in each glass, and he had to go around a second time to fill the glasses more than halfway.
 
“Where’s Kane?” he asked, keeping his eyes on his pouring.
 
“Stranded in the Berkshires,” I said. “This blizzard.”
 
He nodded without looking up.
 
“So is that bouncer a relative of yours?”
 
He nodded again. “Cousin. Why?”
 
“Nothing. There’s just such a strong resemblance.”
 
He looked up at that, a sudden grin splitting his beard to show square yellow teeth. I couldn’t recall ever seeing Axel smile so widely. Just as well. Those teeth were frightening. “Thanks,” he said. “Everyone says he’s the good-looking one in the family.”
 
Looking pleased, he set up more glasses on another tray. Axel’s not what you’d call talkative, and I think he’d exhausted his quota of words for the night. The zombies on either side of me were deep in their own conversations. Feeling antsy, I slid off my stool and grabbed the tray of filled champagne glasses. “I’ll go hand these out.”
 
It’s not easy winding through a tight crowd of partying zombies. Axel doesn’t have a sound system, but over in the corner someone was strumming a guitar. Barely audible over the buzz of voices, the music sounded mellow to me, but all around zombies were managing to dance to it. Some stood and swayed; some clutched each other and turned in slow circles, like couples at a high school dance. One guy in a Celtics jersey and baggy shorts pirouetted like an undead ballet dancer, his eyes closed, wearing a dreamy smile that, on his face, looked more like a death’s-head grimace. But he seemed happy. Maybe he was one zombie who’d been able to pour alcohol down his throat faster than he could burn it off.
 
I spent the next few minutes making sure everyone in the place had a glass of champagne. One zombie offered me a ten-dollar tip. I was tempted—it would offset that cover charge—but I told him to keep it. “Spend it on something fun in the new year.”
 
He raised his glass to me, but didn’t sip.
 
“Here we go!” someone yelled.
 
All eyes turned to the TV over the bar, which was tuned to the celebration in Times Square. Lights flashed and shimmered as the ball began its descent.
 
“Ten … nine …  eight!” The crowd chanted in one voice, loud enough that an echo probably reached Times Square. I took the last glass of champagne and stood among them, the empty tray dangling at my side. Zombies leaned forward, intent on the ball’s progress.
 
“Seven … six … five … four!”
 
The zombie standing next to me, a woman who’d probably been about thirty when she died, adjusted her tiara and bounced on her toes in anticipation.
 
“Three … two …  one …” A lonely feeling passed over me, like I might as well have stayed home. Cold coffee, warm champagne—what difference did it make? I was alone in a roomful of strangers. This was the zombies’ party. I shouldn’t have intruded.
 
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
 
The guitar player struck a chord, and everyone launched into Auld Lang Syne:
 
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot—”
 
The guitar stopped.
 
“And never brought to mind?”
 
The voices faded out, until only two or three ventured into the next line.
 
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot . . .”
 
The final voice cracked. Cold silence settled over the room like the snow covering the streets outside. Zombie faces looked pensive, some stricken, like they were thinking about all those old acquaintances who’d forgotten them.
 
“Hell, yeah! Forget ’em!” Someone yelled, echoed a second later by another voice, and then another. A roar went up, growing in strength until it shook the walls. Confetti rained. Horns blew. Noisemakers whirled. The guitarist started again, this time playing something fast and Spanish-sounding.
 
All around me, zombies were grabbing each other, kissing, thumping each other on the back, kissing some more. Shouts of “Happy new year” ricocheted around the room.
 
A hand grabbed my arm. I turned fast, bringing up the tray as a shield. Um, no. I was glad the zombies were having fun, but there was no way I was locking lips with one.
 
But it wasn’t a zombie. It was Kane, gray eyes smiling, melting snowflakes and confetti dotting his silver hair and the shoulders of his coat. He folded me into his arms and I breathed in deeply. Snow. Moonlight. Pine.
 
The champagne glass slipped from my fingers.
 
“I thought the turnpike was closed,” I murmured against his coat.
 
He stroked my hair. “You think a little thing like that could keep me away? I can be very determined, you know.” He pulled back an inch, and I looked up into his eyes. Something sparked in them that set off corresponding fireworks in my chest. “And I was determined to start the new year with a kiss.”
 
Our lips met, his warm but a little rough from the night air. His tongue darted against my lips—just a touch at first, then more insistently. I opened; our tongues met. Time slowed, and sounds of the room grew distant. Shivers of pleasure rippled through my belly. I pressed closer, wanting more. Going deeper. Tasting him, breathing him in.
 
A dancing zombie jostled us, and we broke apart. “Oops,” he said, flashing a sheepish zombie grin/grimace. “Sorry ’bout that. Happy new year!” He twirled his dance partner and they spun back into the crowd.
 
Kane grabbed my hand and twirled me in a similar move. Maybe it’s my natural inability to dance—or maybe I was still a little light-headed from our kiss—but I stumbled in a way that made the zombies look graceful. Or maybe it wasn’t me. Maybe it was the zombies themselves. Something lit them up, an energy coursing through the room. They’d decided not to look back. And if they didn’t have much to look forward to, either, they weren’t letting that bother them now. They were living in the moment. From where I stood, the moment looked like the perfect place to be.
 
I clutched Kane’s tie and pulled him closer. “Happy new year, Counselor.”
 
His smile lit up the room. “Happy new year.”
 
He moved in for another kiss. Yes, the perfect place to be. And no mistletoe required.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giveaway Info:

To enter all you have to do is leave a comment telling us your favorite New Year’s Eve Memory.

Open to all!

Ends: January 2, 2009 at Midnight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zombie New Year Prize Pack:

1- Signed copy of Deadtown with bookmarks

1- Set of Zombie Champagne Flutes

1- Package of Skull-and-Tombstone Confetti

and

Plus, some party favors like the ones described in the story.

 

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35 Comments leave one →
  1. Erin T permalink
    January 1, 2010 01:57

    I met my hubby at a New Years party in Y2K. 10 years and 2 kids later, we’re still going strong! Thanks for the great post! Love the zombie champagne flutes!!

  2. Sagi permalink
    January 1, 2010 01:57

    my favorite new years memory is one from a few years back (i don’t remember how many) when my parents took my sister, brother, and i to the docks close to our house to see the new years fireworks which were amazing and we had a dinner and ended by singing my mom happy b-day 😀

    • Sagi permalink
      January 1, 2010 01:57

      i just figured out how to get messages when u post something new because i didn’t before and it bothered me to no end 😛

  3. January 1, 2010 01:57

    Favorite moment was with an old friend, he took my to the beach and we got see the fireworks sitting on the back of his truck …. oh those we the days, lol!

    V

  4. January 1, 2010 01:57

    Great short story, Nancy! I can’t wait to read Deadtown.

    Heather, my favorite NYE story is several years back when the whole family got together, even the neighbors showed up and it was a HUGE party, sooo much fun! 😀

  5. January 1, 2010 01:57

    Forgot to add Happy Zombie New Year!

    V

  6. January 1, 2010 01:57

    Heather this was the best yet on all the stuff that has come out about Deadtown, thanks to you and Nancy both.
    The best New Year memory was when had a “let’s stay up and watch the ball drop” party at the neighbors and played word games and rang in the New Year in the comforting warmth of friends and wine coolers. Only had to walk across the street afterward so staying up till past Midnight was a blast that year…

    Happy New Year to all and hear is to a fun contest to start off 2010…

    Jackie B Central Texas
    jacabur2008[AT]gmail[DOT]com

  7. nancyholzner permalink
    January 1, 2010 01:57

    Happy New Year, everyone! I love reading all these memories.

    @Erin: How cool that NYE is also an anniversary of sorts for you. And congrats on your successful marriage!

    @Sagi and @yalover: I love NYE fireworks, too. Nothing like starting off the new year with a bang. 😀

    @Wendy and @Jackie B.: The best way to celebrate is with family and friends. Where I live (Ithaca, NY), Ithaca College has two tall dorms, called the Towers, that sit up on a hill. After Christmas, the college turns on lights in the dorm rooms to display the current year through the windows. (Here’s a photo: http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1076/3168606639_4e941a2630.jpg) At midnight, volunteers flip the switches to change the number to the new year. It’s kinda silly, but a fun tradition. You can see the dorms from my street, so all the neighbors come out a few minutes before midnight, champagne glasses in hand, to stand in the middle of the street and socialize and watch the year switch over. It’s like a big street party (in those years when it’s not so cold that everyone takes their sip of champagne and then rushes back inside LOL).

    • nancyholzner permalink
      January 1, 2010 01:57

      Hmm. My link to the photo of the Towers didn’t work. Let me try it again:

    • January 2, 2010 01:57

      Nancy,
      That is a really cool tradition you guys have there! I wish there was something simple, silly and fun like that here. There were fireworks here from around 8PM all the way to 12:30AM – never seen it here before, but it was very cool. We sat on the patio & watched the fireworks break over the roofs.

  8. January 1, 2010 01:57

    That was a great short story! I can’t wait to read DeadTown now. My favorite New Years Eve memory is of 10 yrs ago in 2000. (I can’t believe it was 10 yrs ago!) I was in Chicago and a group of us bought matching crazy color socks with holes in them for our toes, matching New Years Eve hats, blowers the whole nine yards.

    We were freezing-as we were close to Lake Michigan but it was so much fun! At midnight everyone turned around to see if the city had gone dark b/c of Y2K, but to our disappointment (and relief) the lights were still on. The fireworks o were beautiful!

  9. Donna B permalink
    January 1, 2010 01:57

    This one is easy it was Millenium Eve and i was at the local maternity hospital holding my cousins hand as she gave birth. The most amazing part was we had the radio on and she gave birth to her beautiful daughter as Big Ben chimed the Millenium in. She had planned to call her daughter Holly but as she was born to the sound of the bells she called her Belle, who is today celebrating her 19th birthday.

    Thank you for running this wonderful giveaway. I hope you have a Happy New Year and that 2010 is a fantastic one for you.

    Good Luck all who enter xx

  10. January 1, 2010 01:57

    Woohoo! I loved this New Year’s tale. Eager to read more.

    My best New Year memory – my Mum visiting from England, much reminiscing because it was the New Millenium, and a wonderful black and white standard poodle spending the evening with us while his family went out. He later adopted us and we loved him dearly, but that was his first night at our house.

  11. January 1, 2010 01:57

    wow… I loved this story… cant wait to read the book, now more than ever!

    Favorite NYs memory? hmmmm I dont have much luck in new years, its always boring, lame or too crowded for me to enjoy =(((

    My first time getting sick from alcohol was on new years 2001-02 LOL it was crazy…. =)))

    Happy New Year Nancy and to you too Heather!

    xoxo

  12. January 1, 2010 01:57

    Wow, this short story rocked. I’m so curious about Deadtown. I love the idea behind these quite different Zombies.
    My favorite New year Memory:
    The first year I partied together with BF in 2002/03. We were together for 2 month and it was the first time he was allowed to sleep over. *wink*
    Enough said!
    I hope you all have a wonderful and happy new year!

  13. January 1, 2010 01:57

    Great bite of a story! I’m dying to read Deadtown. My favorite NY memory has to be the one where my husband proposed. I think it was the first time he was able to shock me into complete silence. Eight years, a wedding, and two children later…I still remember it like it was last night.

    Happy New Year to you both!

  14. January 1, 2010 01:57

    my fav ? sitting up with my friend and her parents drinking non-alchohal pina coladas (with tons of whipped creme!) and watchign the ball drop then watching the late shows.

  15. January 2, 2010 01:57

    Nancy, that sounds like so much fun! 😀

  16. January 2, 2010 01:57

    My favorite New Years memory is the year my best friend spent the night and we watched Wizard of Oz while playing Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon…we thought we were so cool haha.

  17. pixie13 permalink
    January 2, 2010 01:57

    Umm, I don’t really do anything on New Year, just sit at home. Not the party type & I hate crowds. I’m boring & have no good New Year’s Eve stories.

  18. Arantza permalink
    January 2, 2010 01:57

    My favourite NYE memory is probably the one from this year. I had dinner with my family and then all my friends and I went to the center of the city where there were fireworks and the streets were full of christmas lights. Then we went to a party and didn’t come back home until noon.

  19. SarahK permalink
    January 2, 2010 01:57

    First of all thanks for a fab giveaway!

    My favourite New Year’s Eve memory is the last one of the 20th Century. The fireworks were amazing and all the local streets got together for a streetparty.

  20. January 2, 2010 01:57

    suh-weeet! loved this zombilicious tale! thanks for sharing it! now, i’m sooo looking forward to Deadtown.

    ok, i’d have to say my most favorite new year’s eve memory is one where my hubby and i attended a First Night event in our local town. this is an event where different places around town offer activities and shows from 6pm to midnight (mostly free). it’s a family fun way to bring in the new year without the focus on partying or drinking the night away. anyhoo before we went out for the evening, we had a wonderful meal which happened to have a fair share of garlic in the recipe. the event we chose to go to was a musical show held in a church. an a capella group were singing a selection of holiday-ish songs. mid-way through the performance the garlic started to kick into my husband. the pew was rumbling with his silent but deadly outbursts. we could not contain our laughter and the people looking back at us was not too nice. we had to leave before the show was over. LOL, what a night.

    vvb32 at yahoo.com

  21. January 2, 2010 01:57

    I’d have to say one of my top new years eve parties was 4 years back at my friends house, we had over 50 people there and it was my best friends birthday at 12 midnight! Another great new years was y2k, I was ice skating outside with pretty lights at night drinking wine!
    Thanks for this giveaway, I just found out about this book last night and I put it on my list!

  22. elaing8 permalink
    January 2, 2010 01:57

    my favorite New Year’s Eve was when I was 17. A friends parents were gone away so he threw a party..so many people showed it,the place was a mess but everyone had fun ;)..and when his parents came home they weren’t upset because we cleaned most of it up and threw out the broken furniture.

  23. Mariska permalink
    January 2, 2010 01:57

    my best was spending it with my sister and her hubby 🙂
    talked everything and laughs at all of things that we’ve done for last one year ! it’s Fun !

  24. Melanie permalink
    January 3, 2010 01:57

    I don’t have an actual favorite New Years Eve memory but one I remember the most was on December 31st 1999. I was only 9 years old and I was terrified because I really believed it was going to be the end of the world. LOL It’s also the first year I stayed up until midnight. I was watching Celine Dion’s concert on tv and it was that night that I became a fan of Celine’s music. 🙂

  25. January 3, 2010 01:57

    Favourite New Years Eve memory? *Scratches head.* Are you sure? Well then . . . it’d be my mum who impersonated a Chinese accent in a Chinese take out shop. Unconsciously. Whilst she was ordering. I was the only family member present who saw it all. The wide eyes. The look of horror on her face. It was too funny to keep my mouth shut. 😉

  26. January 3, 2010 01:57

    Sorry about the date! It’s still 2nd January where I am. :X

  27. January 3, 2010 01:57

    My favorite New Years Eve??? I don’t think I really truely have one. New Years is not one of those big celebrated holidays for me. We do watch the ball drop with friends of ours. But I do not get big into the excitement like many others. Even when we where younger before kids. So I really don’t have one. Sorry…

    hayden392@comcast.net

  28. whatinabox permalink
    January 3, 2010 01:57

    My favorite New Year’s memory is missing the ball drop every year, even when I try to watch it.

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