Dear Journal, 

Happy New Year!

As I write this, it’s already the 2nd of January, but these last few days have been absolutely insane. Rachel turned 21 a few weeks ago, and ever since then it's been a boozapalooza at the loft where she’s concerned. It never crosses the line and everyone still shows up at work on time, sober and alert, but any excuse to throw a party is taken with gusto. 

I suspect that Rach just enjoys flashing her ID card to the cute guy at the liquor store more than she does the actual drinking bit, but regardless, it’s been a very social December month with surprisingly few drunken mishaps. 

That being said, I should probably mention what happened on New Years Eve, because I don’t ever want to forget that happened! 

We were throwing yet another party at the loft, only this time cheap champagne was the drink of choice. The party had been going on for a while already, and we needed a new round of bottles opened, so Rachel, in her infinite wisdom, had decided that she would do the honours. I’ve no idea how she managed to do it, but the cork did not just pop out. No, it practically launched out. It flew way too fast to keep track of, but by the time the dust had settled my lamp was shattered, Rachel’s thigh was blooming with a bruise the size of her fist and Blaine had very nearly missed out on reliving his high school pirate days. 

Oh boy, I have never been more happy that I’d convinced Blaine to wear his glasses more often, than I was that night. 

Anyway, everybody made it out alive and relatively intact, my poor lamp notwithstanding, and Blaine and I now have something we can hold over Rachel’s head forever, which will come in handy when she’s hogging the bathroom again in the mornings. 

~ Kurt