I can’t get that Ella Fitzgerald tune out of my head.

But I can answer that question. Tonight I’ll be heading down to the 16th St. Mall, where I’m staying with hubby and a friend from out of town at the Marriott. The plan, so far, is to head down, get all dolled up, and hit the brand-new Purple Martini at the Tabor Center for a cocktail, then catch the 9 p.m. fireworks on the mall, and then scoot over to the Mercury Cafe for the “roaring twenties” speakeasy party with Gypsy Swing Revue and Burlesque As It Was.

That’s the plan, anyway.

I’d also like to hit a friend’s house party, the Lipgloss new year’s bash with Tim Burgess of The Charlatans as guest DJ, and wouldn’t mind dropping by the 15th St. Tavern to meet up with friends who are hitting the Tarmints show.

One thing I have learned over the years is that making too many plans on New Year’s Eve really sucks. It never works out, and I’ve spent too many hours waiting for taxis, looking for parking, or walking far too many blocks in heels when all else failed.

So I think we’ll stick to the original plan. I think three stops is sufficient for me to feel as if I have done it up properly.