It’s that time again. Time to snake your tongue down some drunken stranger’s throat just as Dick Clark’s dead ball drops at the stoke of midnight, then immediately turn around and blow chow all over yourself. It just doesn’t get any better than that, does it? Do we know how to celebrate, or what?

Mind you, I’m not opposed to celebrating or to having a few drinks. I did give up puking on myself decades ago. Call me a weak tit if you must. I’m okay with that. I like remembering what I did last night, and I like not waking up only to wonder who I played tonsil hockey with just prior to losing my party horse ovaries. But, if that’s your thing, who am I to judge. Have at it! Your host might judge, however, and so it might just be time to grow up a bit and keep your tongue in your own mouth or the mouth of those well-known to you. You will be happier tomorrow for it!