Stupidest New Year's ever

That was last year when the scammers were in my life.   

As I write, it is New Year's day 2014 and I am recalling New Year's 2013.

Oh how the days pass and my disdain and anger grow.  They are but insects and I crush them beneath my feet.  Oh how it feels so good.

A year ago, I offered to treat the scammers to my precious New Year's eve ritual.  I offered to make my traditional, piping hot, steamy, creamy delicious, pungent, comforting, inspiring French Onion Soup.  Served with excellent French bread and real gruyere for the croutons.

It was the usual:  me, Eva, Dud, Tommy, Uncle Dum.  (You've noticed, their names change with each entry.  Because it doesn't matter what their names were.  All were fake, and they aren't worth having real names.  Yes, that's how I feel.  Queen Moi doesn't like to be scammed.)

I arrived with my pot of lovingly brewed soup.  Tommy had bought some crap crostinis from Costco, laden with fat and taste chemicals.  "No," I said.  "I'll make the real croutons."

Dud poured crap sparkling wine. We ate the soup on the patio.  It was golden.  We all found ourselves incredibly full after our soup -- onion soup does that.  That's why I never order it as a starter.

So full, that when Dud served a tray of Costco frozen hors d'oeuvres no one wanted any.  The dumplings, empanadas, breaded chicken were dried out to the point that his plastic wrapped chemical dipping sauce would not save them.

Dud couldn't believe this tray of crap he had "made"  just sat there, unwanted.  The party seemed to be over.  It was ten o'clock.

Tommy excused himself to go to the bathroom.  When he didn't come back.  Dud checked on him.  "He fell asleep," he said and started scouring the kitchen with his Dawn fervor.

Uncle Dum didn't care about anything.  He just sat there.  Eva and I looked at each other.  "I'm going home.  Want a  ride?"
"Yes!" she said.  We gathered up our pots and things and made our escape.
Dud was perplexed at our glee as we slipped out the front door.  He shook his head and said, "What a stupid New Year's eve."

So, today...on this sunny cloudy evocative New Year's Day morning I wonder where the hell are they, and what stupid New Year's eve did they have last night?

I spoke to Eva in Miami, tucked away in her new private life, away from the scammers.  "I bought some lamb chops, some wine.  It will be just me and it will be good."

I am alone with my memories, wonderings and wanderings.  Becalmed.  Adrift.  It will always be good, excellent, better.