LOCATION

Right off the bat, I’m gonna tell you where I don’t want to find you.  I DON’T want to find you at a hotel. Hotel New Years parties are for rich douchebags and the handicapped—as in, if I catch you at a hotel party, I’m gonna break your neck and then you’re gonna be handicapped.

I better not find you at a bar either. Bars on New Years are for Band Wagon Jumpers—what, the asbestos-covered shit-hole me and the other alcoholics hang out at aint good enough for ya unless it’s New years? Are you telling me you won’t voluntarily tolerate the simultaneous smell of piss and vomit? LAME!

You know what else? I don’t want to find you at a house party either. Or on a boat. Or at a block party, or on a roof. “But dude, where can we go?” you must be thinking to yourself. First off, you shouldn’t listen to the voices in your head. Secondly, there’s only one truly manly place to hold a New Years party—in a barn.

It’s gonna be tough securing a barn this close to New Years—I usually scope out a farm in November and invade the farmhouse and kill the family living there in mid-December, leaving me plenty of time to dispose of the bodies before the big day. My main tip for picking a barn is this—choose a farm that grows lame, non essential produce. That way you won’t get caught.  People are gonna start wondering what happened to their corn. But no one will be the wiser if a Lima Bean farmer goes missing. What a cunt.

DRINKS

Now that you’ve got your barn secured, it’s time to go pick up the bubbly…right? WRONG! Champagne? You really think I’d let you get away with drinking champagne? Nice try. Pussy.

Last year at my party, we had Cosmos. This year we’re gonna be drink Watermelon Martinis. See a pattern? Fruity, mixed drinks=manly good time. Why’s that? Because I like fruit…it’s good for you, okay? Leave me alone. Just because I share a favorite drink with the head cheerleader of the Dallas Cow Girls doesn’t mean you can make fun of me.

Cuz I’ll kick your ass if you try anything. See? Drinking chick drinks is an invitation for a fight. And what’s that? Manly.

MUSIC

A lot of people are doing iPod playlists or Djing from mixed CDs. Not for me. Neither are records. Nope…I’m old school, dude. Every year I hire a choir of castrated boys to sing the year’s top songs. They’re called the Castrati 7 and the Indian one can do a ridiculously good Beyonce impression.

If castrated boys choirs aren’t your thing, no biggie. Regardless, here are a few songs that are MUSTS at your par-tay.

Wild Thing by The Troggs

Highway To Hell by AC/DC

Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N Roses

Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

Slide by The Goo Goo Dolls

Black Balloon by The Goo Goo Dolls

Who cares if these songs are impossible to dance to? You got your hard rock…and you got your Goo Goo Dolls. Sounds like a friggin party in a nutshell, broheim.

THE FOOD

No crab cakes. No cocktail weenies. No mini spinach pies. With all that drinking that’s going down, it’s prime time to prove your manliness…it’s raw meat time. Set up a raw bar with various steaks, fishes…and, yes, chickens. Don’t worry about utensils—raw meat is the original finger food. If you can make it through the night without puking, you’re a real man. And if you can make it a month without E Coli? You’re lucky. Cuz you’re probably gonna get E Coli.

THE COUNTDOWN

With Dick Clark MIA from the TV countdown (a stroke will do that to you) a lot of people are gonna be searching for a good show to watch the countdown. Is it gonna be MTV, or Carson Daly, or Ryan Seacrest? Hmm tough choice. Oh wait, there’s a dark horse contender that just entered the race…my FRICKIN’ watch. Yeh, here’s a crazy notion…I’ll look at my watch and let you know when it’s midnight. Cool?

THE KISS

If you’re like me, you don’t keep a chick around on the regular. They’re too much trouble, what with their offering sex and making you dinners and such. It’s like, bitch, go cook some other chump a steak. Not me.

So how are you and I gonna deal with the clock striking midnight and not having a chica to share a New Years kiss with? Well first thing’s first. You’re gonna need chicks at your party. So grab a phone book and start at the beginning. Anne Aaronson. Keep calling, inviting random chicks to your party. When you call, pretend like you’re whatever friend they think you are and say, “Hey, the party’s actually been moved…” then tell them the new location is your party barn. If any of the chicks actually show up, just kiss them when you open the door. Cuz take it from me, bro…they sure aint staying the whole night!

So there you have it…enough of these pansy ass New Years parties. Yours has been officially “Manned Up.” Jeah!