I spent it with my wonderful wife, actually, and it was fantastic. We dined and drank and danced and had a fine time. There were several bottles of wine present, a good bit of beer, and most if not all was at least tasted at one point or another. By the time it was 2010 we were pretty well within our cups, and it was not the worst way to begin a new year.

Before I go on, though, I must explain that I have a Twitter account, "Fart", and I use it frequently. Twitter is that dumb thing that was really dumb before it became funny again (but still pretty dumb), once our scientists figured out how to Goatse over 2 million people with it. Generally, I try to use it primarily as a dump for idiotic thoughts and things I find funny throughout the day while I'm not at a computer and have no other way to write things down. It's definitely come in handy since I'm pretty much your average 25-year-old American male which means my long term memory is made up of about 10% actual memories, 60% TV shows, and 30% things that I thought happened to me but were actually just TV shows also. Without it I would have forgotten entirely about ideas like:

how come every time i get on the astral plane i appear to other spirit beings as a huge latina bbw. there are no mirrors so i cant check smh

god never closes a door without opening a cloaca #birds

Doin the ol Lady Gaga impression #lifeoftheparty http://twitpic.com/wh92s

Anyhow, the New Year's Eve party continued, and it was about an hour and a half into the new year by this point. Some type of lull in the conversation happened so I habitually grabbed my phone because I felt a twit coming on. Having learned earlier in the day that diabetics on Twitter were using the tag #bgnow to share their current blood glucose levels with each other, I posted:

#bgnow my blood glucose level is 666 #obama #tcot #diabetes

Which isn't very funny but it was amusing to me for a few seconds. Then my phone started blowin' up:

@fart I hope you are not by yourself with that blood glucose reading??????#diabetes????????????? Please Respond to me ,Please !!

A kind older woman took it upon herself to notice my twit and respond to it, letting me know I was in danger. Now certainly, I thought, this woman would momentarily see the rest of the dumb things on my twit history and then look at my probably catastrophic blood glucose level and realize her mistake, and we'd be done. But no, my life was to be saved that night:

@fart do you have some milk , chocolates , chocolate cookes , orange juice????

@fart I am waiting for your response please , ....!!!!!!

@fart R U listening to me , and responding ...I am waiting to hear from you, Fart answer me PLEASE !!!!!!!

First, I'm not a physician but I'm pretty sure that if my blood sugar monitor was giving me the extraordinarily high number of the beast I'd be looking for less sugar rather than more, as well as an affordable but not too tacky casket for myself. I had my fun though, and it was time to go, so I sent her a quick note to the effect of "Hey lady, I'm not fat or dying, thanks anyway" and left it at that... But she kept going.

@fart R U listening to me , and responding ...I am waiting to hear from you, Fart answer me PLEASE !!!!!!!

@fart give me your cell phone number so I can call u an d talk to u , PLEASE DO THAT NOW !

@fart If you don't want to give me you info , cell phone fine, o k , call 911 NOWWWWWWWWWWW !!!!!

Now we're over an hour since I first said the diabetes devil is killing me from the inside, and some woman in who-knows-where is celebrating her holiday by (probably drunkenly) panicking and pleading with "Fart" to give her any sign of life, even though "Fart" is sending her messages trying to say that "Fart" needs to go to bed so please acknowledge that you will stop thinking that "Fart" is actually a dying man. Her options running dry, she makes a desperate appeal to the Twitter corporation itself:

@Twitter @fart has blood glucose of 666 , extremely critical, I have asked him for contact info this is critical he is not responding, HELP

"Help Fart!" a sweet, but not necessarily technologically learned woman is crying out to her computer. The sheer absurdity of what was happening finally took hold of me and I had to force myself away to get some sleep amid giggles and this awful guilty feeling I had knowing I've colored the first few hours of someone's new year with a certain shade of cryptic terror and helplessness. She never did respond to me after that night and I can only say that I will try really hard toward not even jokingly suggesting to anyone that I have a fatal diabetic condition next New Year's Eve. No guarantees, though.

– Jon "@fart" Hendren (@fart)

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