2009, so long. I don't really have any personal problems with you.
In February, you let me keep my job. In July, you got me a tiny pay bump, and in October, a promotion and a bigger, yet still modest, pay bump.
You introduced me to the wonders of Buffyverse and Prime Suspect.
Also, very late, to The Big Sleep and Sunset Boulevard. And, released this year, Drag me to Hell! Here's to hoping Crazy Heart gets to Salt Lake soon.
To the album and artist Fever Ray, a new entry into my favorite albums of all time, and the best live performance since I saw Tom Waits last year. Came up with a new Built to Spill album, decent, with a handful of kickass tracks, and a great show in September. Treated me to a great Robyn Hitchcock performance at Golden Gate Park. To a weird but rad Butthole Surfers show. And to the most ass-kicking show in years, if not my life, THE JESUS LIZARD. Also, treated me to an E and alcohol fueled enjoyment of an Animal Collective show in Vegas, which resulted in me punching someone in the face for the first time in my life. We're friends, he provoked me, and it's cool now. And to a number of new songs and albums I'll enjoy for years.
Gave me a great season for Oregon football! Hope it ends well today.
Also, lots of time with new friends and old, and many loved ones. I'm usually not so positive, so it must be my hangover cure talking.
2010, I expect more. I'm not happy with my job, so you'll need to find me a more enjoyable and higher paying one. And how about a large lump sum of cash? Maybe a relationship with a lady that doesn't crash and burn, or at least some more tail? Healthier eating and more exercise for some weight loss? Less time wasting and some education? Education.
Oh yeah, and less people killing other people, some solutions to poverty and climate change, a more stable national and global economy, and less douche bags over all. Come on 2010, don't fuck around. Get going.
I'll be kicking off the new year by enjoying, or not enjoying, the Rose Bowl today. Go Ducks. Then some dinner and drinks with friends, and a relaxing weekend. The last couple weeks at work sucked ass.
Cheers! And a wonderful new year to all of you wonderful figments of Wombat's imagination. Except for Paul, because I know he exists. To Paul, I wish you an even more radical new year with fire breathing art cars, excellent photography, and a glut of mustache rides.