2003-01-01 - 9:29 p.m.

State of the (I)n(ebri)ation

Ouch (E.T. stylee).

The working day finally finished and I donned my stylishest livery and gatecrashed a north London shindig where I witnessed, amongst other things, the son of a very famous football coach selling copious amounts of coke. A suitably hedonistic time was had, in spite of missing several people very much indeed at midnight. For some reason it seemed like a good idea to carry on the proceedings at a friend�s house completely the other side of the city at 3am, involving the World�s Longest Cab Ride and everyone winding up a bit jaded but pushing through to 8ish, which isn�t a bad effort, that�s for damn sure as hiccups.

Of course, it seemed like the worst idea since Moses later that morning, when I awoke in an unfamiliar house to find that sadly, the future did not consist of flying cars or teleportation devices, and I had to use the same old rail network to get BACK across town feeling like eighteen shades of ass.

So, 200yesit�sapalindrome2. I leave it a gland down but very much none the wiser about pretty much anything to do with life, love and the radio presets on my stereo. Live and don�t learn, that�s my motto. But 11 trips, 14 of you buttock-clenchingly charming people met for the first time, and for most of the year I wasn�t unemployed. If I had to pick a highlight, it would be a tough choice between the day we rescued pixgrrl�s art from the clutches of the mullet-wearing miltant lesbians, a blissful four days in Los Angeles, hurricane-tinged adventures in New Orleans, Garofalo stalking in Montreal and the world record attempt at how many d�landers can fit in a bar in New York. Lowlights were just my ridiculous inability to tell some people how I really felt about them. But that�s all gonna change. I�m remaining goofily optimistic about this year�certain nuclear Armageddon aside, natch.