Time to party and, being the smart New Year's Eve-ers that we were, we called a cab to take us to the Fox Theatre.

Traffic was thick, and while the girls clippity-clopped in their heels across Highland Avenue, me and Dusty gallivanted as only those in kilts can. We hurriedly climbed into the cab and Pork made a classic, first-time-in-a-kilt mistake.

He forgot to tuck when sitting down.

"Jeezus, my balls just hit the seat of a cab... what diseases do you think I just caught?"

Walking into the theatre, we were hard to miss, and while all the ladies were most certainly checking us out, some shitwad thought he was clever by doing the RiverDance bit for his buddies' entertainment.

We couldn't be distracted by Splitting his Skull though, for we had this waiting for us...

The red dress at the bottom is actually my date, who unceremoniously ditched me after witnessing my Napoleon-Dynamitesque moves on the dance floor. She apparently couldn't handle the pure Sexlishessness of me dancing in a kilt.

I learned that, when attending a party with a girl as hot as my date is, you gotta ward off the hordes of desperate dudes or one of 'em will attach himself leech-like to her for the rest of the night.

There were far, far too many incredible-looking women there though, for me to hold a grudge, and his nose remained unbroken. Plus, he was actually a nice guy, and didn't mind when we not only got his name wrong, but made fun of his friends name as well.

"Nice to meetcha, Barry."

"My name's not Barry."

"So whaddya do, Barry?"

"I'm in Law School... and my name's not..."

"Gonna be a lawyer, eh Barry?"

"...yeah."

We saw RiverDanceGuy doing his thing again, and he cockily avoided eye-contact while we glared menacingly from across the room. Beer and Hot Women beckoned though, and his Skull would stay whole for now.

With such a splendid environment to be immersed in, I sought out copious amounts of alcohol and some *ahem* pleasurable company.

At first, I tried to kiss-rape my kilt-clad compadre. He's THAT sexy.

This was a mistake, not only because he kicked me in the tit for trying it, but because his whiskers would probably have chafed against mine (reason #48 why dudes should never kiss).

During a smoke break, RiverDanceGuy actually came over and gushed all over the both of us about how cool the kilts were and whatnot.

We theorized that he wasn't a stupid person, and when his friends told him, "Dude, those guys are going to fucking KILL you," he probably listened.

Because we were.

While cruising through the crowds, I met many cool people, and actually had a fair number of women approach me about the kilt and the secret of what's underneath it.

One of these incredibly hot ladies actually struck up conversation with me too. I gotta admit, it was a real kick to get hit on by a hottie, instead of always doing all the work. She even asked me what my Midnight Plans were and did I have someone to kiss. The night was still young, so I told her that I didn't yet, but I'd look for her. She looked somewhat disappointed by this (or somewhat drunk, tough call), so I went ahead and laid one on 'er right there.

Then, I went for more beer, and to tell Dusty the magical powers of the Kilt were in full effect.

He was as excited by this news as I, and he'd even been experiencing some of it himself.

To get to the men's bathroom, one had to "walk the gauntlet" through the line of women waiting for their respective pisser.

It was during one of these trips that I was grabbed by DrunkenMakeOut #2. At first, she just told me that she wanted to know what was under the kilt, but when her friends tried to pull her away and she drunkenly fought them off, she decided that she wanted to see for herself instead.

She was frighteningly hot and wearing tight leather pants, how could I NOT show her?

Even though I warned her, she still shrieked loudly after a quick peek. Then, she grabbed me and gave me a kiss that took the pleats outta the ol' kilt, IF you know what I mean.

I once again, wandered back to Dusty and his date, grinning like I may possibly pass out from sheer bliss.

Dusty's date bravely took the risk of having her camera melt from the immeasurable amount of Sexocity that we were both exuding, and caught the two Sexiest-SkullSplittenest-Beasts-of-the-Night in full flare.

Atlanta Illustrated's Pictures of the Eve.

See if you can find us! (I just looked, and DrunkenMakeOutGirl #1 is in there)

Midnight was fast approaching, and I was finally drunk enough to make the attempt to pull my date away from MyNameIsntBarry. I found them on one of the dance floors, but I couldn't do it. He looked so happy, and she looked so... well, drunk, which undoubtedly made him happy.

I drank more beer and figured I'd make another pass at Pork, or at least his date, and try and get me some Midnight Lovin', when I saw a tall blonde up in the balcony with us. I grabbed two glasses of champagne and made my way over, hoping to get to know her well enough in the 53 seconds left of 2004 for a smooch.

She looked at me like I was a hunting tiger, moving in on the helpless gazelle. It probably didn't help that I was visibly licking my chops, but her friends HAD just ditched her moments ago. She explained that they were all married and were on their cellphones with their husbands.

I asked her if she'd care to "Ring in the New Year with a quick smooch?"

She eyed me skeptically, we watched the balloons drop and everyone screamed, then she leaned over and got me with a good one. DrunkenMakeOut #3 was very cool, because she wasn't even drunk, and I was. She bolted with her friends mere minutes after 2005 started though, and it was decided that the KiltBoys should make our way to the exits as well.

We were gathering up and waiting for the crowds to thin when I caught a good shot of my incredibly hot date and the Pimp that put the whole soiree at the Fox together.

I thanked him for putting together such a swanky time, then told him not to hit on my terribly drunk date, or I'd go all SkullSpitter on his ass.

Then, I finally got to make out with my date. DrunkenMakeOut #4 was great too, but it unfortunately happened while MyNameIsntBarry was still hanging around. I wonder if he'll still call her...

We got back to Casa del Tornado, ate fried snacks, and popped open the Asti Spumanti (Spoo). 27 beers and a wine glass of champagne altered my reality enough that I could see Dusty's lips moving, but the sound wasn't matching up with those movements. I muttered something about bad martial arts movies and joined my sleeping date on the Hide-a-bed.

I passed the fuck out, after Firmly and Awesomely ringing in 2005.

This is the four of us the next morning.

I look like I'm still drunk and eyeballing Pork, or his date. Dusty looked like I felt, and the girls looked like they were going shopping somewhere trendy, where they only allow you in if you are wearing PJ's, a fur coat and heels.

QueasyWhore Update.

After 2 solid days of complete whoredom and laying claim to my luggage, the cat finally got up and moved. I couldn't tell if it was to eat or shit, but I was intensely curious as to what could drag her from her beloved luggage.

She knew that she couldn't get on the plane with me so, after a tear-jerking-fur-covered goodbye, she went back to whoring herself out to her original Pimp.