I’m trying to tidy up and get organized before I leave Kansas City later this morning. I’m driving back to Russell today, meaning I will be welcoming 2016 at home for the first time in quite some time.

I was in Kansas City to ring in 2012, 2013, 2014 and 2015. I spent New Year’s Eve at Buffalo Wild Wings in each of the previous two years. This time, I swore I would be out of KC early enough so I could be home, away from all the bullshit parties and drunken jerks who make New Year’s Eve my LEAST favorite day of the year.

What is the big freaking deal about a calendar changing? Tomorrow is another Friday. Nobody’s debts, yours nor mine, will magically be forgiven. Nobody will wake up 50 pounds thinner. The vast majority of people will have the same job, will be driving the same car, and living in the same place. The only thing I see different is the last two digits on the date change from “15” to “16. Wow. That’s something to get really excited about.

To me, New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day is about one thing and one thing only, college football. I could care less about the stupid ball dropping in Times Square. Besides, what good is it for those who are not in the Eastern Time Zone? When the ball drops, it will be 11 p.m. in Russell and everywhere else in the Central Time Zone. And even dumber, the ball drop is REPEATED for those in the other three time zones. I really want to watch a REPLAY of a ball drop, and I REALLY want to watch a REPLAY of a ball drop being counted down by Ryan Seacrest. F**K ME HARD.

Seacrest should not be hosting any New Year’s Eve celebration. What ABC did with Dick Clark should have ended when Clark suffered his stroke in 2004. I didn’t watch the bullshit before Clark had his stroke, and I didn’t watch it after, but from what I heard and read, it was very sad to watch Clark struggle so badly.

Enough wasting time about that crap.

To me, the lasting image of New Year’s Eve came in the final hours of 1994, when Amy Silberman was killed by a falling bullet in New Orleans’ French Quarter. Silberman came to the Crescent City with a group of friends from Massachusetts, and were walking along the riverfront near Jackson Square, home some of New Orleans’ most famous landmarks, including St. Louis Cathedral, the Cabildo museum, and Cafe du Monde, home of the world famous beginets

December is a great time to visit New Orleans, since you can actually walk around without being drenched in sweat after five minutes, as is the case from mid-March through mid-October.

Yet a bunch of thugs always see the need to fire guns into the air on New Year’s Eve. It isn’t limited to New Orleans, but it is one of the cities which have the biggest problems. Five days into 1995, Silberman was buried in her native Cleveland by her parents and brother. Sad. Very sad.

One year after Silberman was tragically gunned down, I feared for my own safety on New Year’s Eve. I would be returning home late following the Sugar Bowl between Virginia Tech and Texas. I held my breath at every red light, looked over my shoulder every time a car came close. My biggest priority was to get off the freaking streets. I did.

New Year’s Eve is for those with bad jobs who think they are somebody. Guess what? You will still have your bad job January 2. Yes, I really want to flush $$$$$$$$$ down the toilet to drink champagne and eat bad food at an overpriced party where I have to waste $500 on a wardrobe just to get in the door. Great use of money.

Save your money. Stay home and watch Oklahoma-Clemson and Michigan State-Alabama. Go to bed early. Start 2016 refreshed, not hung over.