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Yes, It’s Too Late to Wish Me a ‘Happy New Millennium!’, Dammit

Can somebody tell me something? What’s the statute of limitations on ‘Happy new year!‘, anyway?

I mean, that’s all I’ve been hearing from people at work for the past two days — it’s ‘Happy new year!‘ this, and ‘Happy new year!‘ that… ‘Happy new year — you’re back!‘ ‘Happy new year — it’s lunchtime!‘ ‘Happy new year — let’s dance the watusi!‘ Blah, blah, blah.

Now, maybe I’m just grouchy at being back in the office — okay, okay, so probably I’m just grouchy at being back — but I’m done with the whole ‘new year’ thing. Honestly, people — today is the fourth of January. The frigging fourth. It’s done. Get over it, for chrissakes. Here’s how it ought to work:

New Year’s morning, early: Say it all you want. Tattoo ‘Happy new year!‘ across your fricking nipples, if you want. This is your prime chance, all year, to get the shit out of your system. Say it loud, say it strong, say it while choking up champagne bubbles — it’s all good, for the first few hours after midnight.

New Year’s Day, midday: Sure, you can still greet people with ‘Happy new year!‘… but what the fuck are you doing awake in the middle of the day, anyway? Don’t be a douchebag — you were up until four in the morning or later, and you started drinking at noon on New Year’s Eve. And if you weren’t, then all that cheerful bullshit is gonna annoy the living piss out of those of us who were. Go the hell back to bed! Jeez.

New Year’s evening: Okay, we’ve all recovered by this point, so have at it. ‘Happy new year!‘ yourself silly, people. Tell your family, and your friends. Shout it to your waiter, your bartendress, and your bus driver. Greet your hooker with it. Go nuts. It’s still New Year’s Day. You’re good.

January 2nd: On the second, you get a free pass. You may not have had time to see everyone you know in one day — especially since you likely spent much of it trying to keep your pounding head from exploding — so you’re free to whip out a ‘Happy new year!‘ or two on the day after. Just don’t be so goddamned cheery about it, all right? Some people have already moved on; don’t piss them off so early in the year.

January 3rd: Now, normally, I’d say that the second is it. Finito. Done. But okay, once every seven or eight years, New Year’s Day falls on a Saturday, so you may not see some of your homies and bitches until you get back to work on Monday. Fine. I can manage to be magnanimous once or twice a decade, so if the holiday falls — as it did this year — on a Saturday, then you get Monday to be all giddy and shit over the calendar turn, too. Part of Monday. Like, morning. By two, three in the afternoon, you’re done. Wait till next year.

January 4th: No way. This shit is right out, even in a year like this one. If you didn’t bother to seek someone out over the weekend, and didn’t talk to them on Monday, then don’t get all stupid and pretend that you’re happy to see them with a big ‘Happy new year!‘ when you finally deign to speak to them on the fourth. Don’t even try. The year is already more than one percent over — one full percent, dammit — by this point. Find something else to yak about for the next three hundred and sixty-one days. Damn.

So, there it is. My view of when the ‘new year’ isn’t news-worthily ‘new’ any more. Three days, max. And I know I’m gonna be hearing that shit for the rest of the week, at least. There’ll probably be some part-time boobjob in the office, or wandering around the neighborhood, that I won’t run into for a few weeks, and I’ll be hearing that shit in fricking February. You’d think some of these people had never seen the calendar turn over before. Tsk.