Well, that's just about enough goddamn 2014 for anyone, I'd say. We took the good, we took the bad (we took them both!), and now we have a fresh new year glittering before us, crying out to be ravaged. I know 2014 is basically one big Technicolor blur for most of us, but let's strain our brains just a bit to gander over our shoulders at what was good—nay, BEST!—about the year that will go down in history as "twenty-fourteen." Ready? Brace yourselves...

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PSYCH! If we're gonna look at the best, we also have to look at the worst because UNIVERSAL BALANCE. Quickly then, the worst: Poor Robin Williams, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Lauren Bacall, Joan Rivers, Ann B. Davis, and Jan Hooks all bought the farm (shhhh... a moment of silence, homos, please!), the Lobby Bar took the big dirt nap, LICK! quit after eight sweaty, unforgettable years, the wonderful J/K Pop at Barboza went kapootski, Chop Suey went on hospice care, Ade got bashed by assholes, Republicans still exist, and it was announced that the Harvard Exit Theatre is closing. (SIFF! Where are you?!) Also, that time BenDeLaCreme didn't win RuPaul's Drag Race (fucksticks!), that time police killed everybody and got away with it, the hottest year on record ever, Capitol Hill carpetbaggers stealing our asses and selling them back to us at a 300 percent markup, and did I mention Republicans? Republicans. Insufferable goddamn shit-brained Republicans. (Also, "woo girls.")

Enough of that! Our most golden moments of '14 were made even most goldener by the coming of Kremwerk, the fagulously fanciful new dance venue that rose as home to amazing new happenings that now light up our nights: Cathedral, Kiss Off, Bottom Forty, and Stiffed, to name a handful. (That place is AWE-SOME-SAUCE.) And even though BenDeLaCreme lost, her appearance on Drag Race—and her subsequent live recaps at Odd Fellows Hall—thrust us each week into a wild world of hilarity, thrills, Sarah Rudinoff, and something called "epic shade." Also! That time Match Game Re-bar gave me a toaster oven was pretty swell (so is the term "woo girls"), as well as the crazy/super-slutty new night at the Eagle called Arf!, every single Hero Worship at Pony ever, not to mention the glorious return of the Egyptian Theatre (thanks, SIFF!)—but especially my hypothetical-bong-toking/Pulitzer Prize–winning interview with Tori Amos (wait for it...). But in the end, it's the toaster ovens, really, that we'll remember, isn't it? Now and forever, the toaster ovens. (Woooo!) recommended