I told them that Jagermeister gives me a god-awful hangover, that this time I wanted to start this New Year off differently. The outgoing year started on the cold hard tile of the bathroom floor, and the next twelve months were a downhill tumble from there.
I lost my job.
My girlfriend left me.
My dog died.
Once again, they didn’t care. And by the time I got to the bottom of the second Jagerbomb, neither did I.
But oh, God, was I right. Again.
Happy New Year.