Ringing in 2020 with Q & B

So surprise, surprise, Q & B rang in 2020 together in the way we have for the past several years – amidst a sea of snacks, children and husbands who would rather talk sports and pop culture then interact with their family.QUITTER: That was a badass shindig you threw to bring in the new decade B. For real. I loved it.

BOSSY: I’m glad you had a good time, but it would seem that you have a very loose definition of the word “party.” From an outsiders perspective, it was likely a visual definition of of the opposite of a party. Like the visual definition of what mannequins look like socializing.

QUITTER: Probably. But really and truly, nothings says P-A-R-T-Y like a low key gathering where eye contact is optional and showing up in clean pajamas means you’re dressed up.

BOSSY: Agreed. Forget everyone else and the mannequins.  And also, I felt like seeing you in person might be a good idea. Sure we talk once a week for the blog, but I hadn’t actually seen you in 4 months. I needed to ensure that you were still alive and that I hadn’t started writing with an AI.

QUITTER: Ya, I could see how you’d mistake me for an AI. I’m cool like that. Wait, wouldn’t that be a super cool premise for a movie? A famous writer who’s actually an AI. And A vampire! OMG that writes itself.

BOSSY: Put a pin that – back to the blog. As we’ve mentioned numerous times in the past, we’re getting more and more reclusive in our old age, or at least, more accepting of our introverted sides. So basically, why did we decide it was a good idea to get together, other than the aforementioned AI theory?

QUITTER: You know what? I have no idea. You suggested it and I typically think you have good ideas and are the brainy one of this operation so I said yes. In retrospect I am kind of glad you aren’t criminally inclined because I’d probably end up going to the big house for us both.

BOSSY: Nah, you wouldn’t last a week in prison. I’d take the hit and reorganize the contraband ring within forty-eight hours.  Good spread sheet and I’d be in. Okay, so forgetting the introvert detail for a second, do you ever envy other people’s New Year’s plans?

QUITTER: Nope. Not one bit. In fact this year my partner and I noted that most of the people we know had low key plans like us. I don’t know who is going to all those fancy parties and staying up past 12:01…I think Ryan Seacrest is the only one.

BOSSY:  But we were stupid enough to decide to get together and socialize so if you had to offer a play-by-play of the evening, almost like a sport’s commentator (and you should cuz really a good chunk of the night was about sports), how would it sound? Please use the terms “benched” and “offensive defence” at least once.

QUITTER: Are you shitting me!? I don’t know from sports! But you’re right, the amount of sports talk was way too much. The second our husbands see each other it’s all “sports, blah, boring, some stupid stat, that coach sucks,” and other crap I can’t decipher. For the rest of us it went a little like this:

  1. Quitter’s hoard entered the building and asked about food.
  2. All children like people looked for screens and started shouting random things excitedly.
  3. Adults poured large glasses of alcohol.
  4. Quitter remembered she lost the paper, rock, scissor DD decider and poured most of her drink back into the bottle.
  5. Bossy made all the food.
  6. Everyone descended on all of Bossy’s lovely eats like locusts.
  7. Men folk commandeered the TV and proceeded to split the screen to watch sports and channel surf.
  8. Quitter and Bossy retreated to plan world domination via the inter-ma-net at the dining room table.
  9. Husbands get into a TV show war with Bossy’s 4 year old who demands Paw Patrol.
  10. The 4 year old wins and we all watch Paw Patrol.
  11. A new decade begins.

BOSSY: You get 100 points for accuracy but a deduction of 90 points for not accepting my challenge.

QUITTER: 10 points, eh?  Still a win.

BOSSY: Did you like my beet hummus?

QUITTER: So much.

BOSSY: You know I’m not precious about my cooking. If it was balls, I’ll never make it again. Until I forget you told me it was balls and we do this all again.

QUITTER: I’m not placating you. Seriously. And I also like that you put it on crackers in the shape of a Christmas tree.

BOSSY: That may have been an accident.  Do you think other people ate beet hummus for New Year’s Eve? Is it trendy?  You know how I feel about trends (refresher: I loathe them).

QUITTER: No, it was only us. In the entirety of Canada…no…in the entirety of North America, it was only us eating beat hummus. No trend was followed that night I assure you.

BOSSY: I think all this back and forth about hummus is a true representation of how lame our New Year’s really was, and yet, so oddly perfect for who we have become.

QUITTER: I couldn’t agree more. We didn’t even bother with talking about resolutions for next year, we just ate our hummus quietly without looking at each other.

BOSSY: But I do believe in The Rule of 3’s (it’s my rule, really, and I’ll get into it at a later date) but basically I think we’re at the second stage of our personality when it comes to socializing.  So my question to you is, when we end up in our third stage (which has to happen…cuz of the 3’s), what do you think our NYE will look like then?

QUITTER: Well obviously there will be beet hummus…actually I hope it looks a lot like this. Just our families hanging out together, avoiding the world, eating snacks and randomly shouting. Yup, that’s perfect as far as I’m concerned.

BOSSY: I think by that point we may also have full blown agoraphobia and will have to socialize via Skype.

QUITTER: Won’t count it out. Happy New Year, Bossy.

BOSSY: Let’s kill 2020, Quitter (from the comfort and safety of our individual spaces).

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