Holy wow, I'm just now recovering from my wild NYE celebration! Man, you should have been there. The music was bangin', the drinks had flecks of actual gold leaf, and at midnight, Catwoman-era Halle Berry descended from the heavens and kissed me.
Just kidding. Here's a picture of what actually went down:
Not pictured: Kelsey's favorite CAH card, "tasteful sideboob"
That's not even wine in our glasses, guys. It's grape juice. Straight up "Communion at a Methodist church" grape juice.
Anyway, brushing aside that weird thing I said about Halle Berry (and how middle school me kept a novelization of the 2004 Catwoman film in my locker at all times so I could stare at Halle Berry in a catsuit on the cover between classes while fiercely repressing my homosexuality), happy 2017!
At least, I hope it's a happy 2017. Let's face it. If we ask a Magic 8 Ball if 2017 will be better than 2016, I guarantee it will answer: "OUTLOOK NOT SO GOOD," followed by condescending laughter. There is a lot to be afraid of this year. Take it from a professional worrier.
But I'm still holding out hope. Out of the pessimism of 2016, many new and impassioned voices are rising. I see movements of love on my Facebook feed, and hear people asking, "What can I do to help?". In our last days before the regime- uh, I mean, before the inauguration, that kind of desire to protect and support each other is vital.
With that in mind, I truly wish you a happy 2017. May it come with endless love, safety, and progress. And maybe, just maybe, a little bit of tasteful sideboob.