2001-01-03 - 13:22:55

Brooklyn, Enwhysee.

Dude.

Where�s my car?

This is as fine a sentiment as any with which to start the new millennium, I feel. It�s a question that demands an answer. Like, "How may roads must a man walk down?". Everyone should just figure out where their car is, and we�ll get along just fine.

Did you hear the one about the 5 diarylanders in a bar? You know those people you read who you just think are hi-tech postmillennial computer generated genii? They actually exist! Who would o� thunk it? Anyway, I�m SO down with the East Village and stuff now. The bar we were in was across the street from Coyote Ugly, which is possibly the worst film ever, though admittedly, I have yet to see the aforementioned "Dude - Where�s my car?!"

Yesterday I also: got my head shaved by a Puerto Rican, spent a long time trying not to blow my life savings in Other Music, bought one of the most expensive sandwiches of my life, whizzed round the Met and then sat on the tube, sorry, SUBWAY whilst some crazy old guy told me how he lost all his money on one throw of the dice in a craps game and had to sleep on his friend�s floor because he couldn�t afford the bus home and anyway, what was he supposed to do? I wasn�t sure, so I just kept quiet.

But anyway, here�s to 2001. Or "zool", as no-one seems to be calling it. Let�s hope it�s a good one, with plenty of, er, whatever. My resolutions are to get into playing craps, see the film "Dude � Where�s my car?" and only have my hair cut by Puerto Ricans from now on in.

Today I�m going to go on the Statten Island Ferry and then go to Central Park and ride the Carousel just like the film "The Spanish Prisoner", though hopefully I won�t get unsuspectingly embroiled in an international conspiracy to steal the means of controlling the world�s stock markets, because I really couldn�t deal with THAT.

My first lesson of the year is that understanding why something has to be a certain way doesn�t make it any easier. Just the opposite, in fact. Like being allergic to cats.

Dude.