For Auld Lang Syne, M'Dear

Can you hear it now, the wafting strains of "Auld Lang Syne"? If you come to my champagne soiree tomorrow eve perhaps you will be graced with just such music as the clock strikes midnight. Then reckless abandon will ensue as you frantically kiss everyone in sight under the bountiful mistletoe. And they will all be gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, everyone kitted out in formal attire--girls in stilletos, red lips, black dresses, men in suits and ties and suspenders--and all, all with champagne flutes full of mimosas or kir royale clutched in their hands.

I can hardly wait.