Backyard on Monday, first time this year. I had a blast and drank too much (five red wines, my limit is two), wrote two poems, completely shitfaced (because that's what people like me do when drunk, either poems or letters), gave them to Sham (pictured above)....met Chelvi (also pictured above) for the first time, and basically just had the best time.
Mark was at his best because the place wasn't busy (how he likes it) and he could play a string of requests (also shout-outs, specifically, me shouting out) and I was so high I even smiled at a former enemy, though I stopped short of shaking his hand and wishing him a Happy New Year.
Ah well.
It was so worth coming home and throwing up all over my bedroom floor (and leaving it till morning to clean up) and staggering through the next day like a delicate piece of china, liable to break if even the slightest pressure was applied.
(It wasn't).
Instead, I recovered to conduct a really cool interview at 3, and make a new friend in the process.
Do I have the best life or what?
That you do, m'dear. That you do...
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