Should old acquaintance be forgot...

I hate New Year, as a rule. Every year I try to get enthusiastic, and most years it's a total wash-out. So let's see how this year's celebrations panned out, shall we?


20:00 Party time. Champagne, food, crackers, gallons of red wine. So far, so good.


00:00 Auld Lang Syne time. Lots of champagne and fireworks and singing into the night. Someone lets off a confetti bomb. Sparkles everywhere. Hey, this is fun! Maybe this year isn't going to be a let-down! Let's have some more champagne!


01:00 Drunk as a skunk.


01:10 Mobile phone rings. It is Jez, who is in North London at a different party. I'm too wasted to really hear what he's saying.


01:12 It eventually filters through to my brain that he is dumping me. On New Year's Eve.  Too drunk to say anything pithy or cutting to him, so hang up on a weak "see you, then".


01:13 Run out of the room and burst into tears. Comforted by friends. Blow my nose noisily, then decide to get really, really drunk.


Everything else is pretty hazy. Apparently I passed out around 5 a.m. The next day I had the mother, father, sister, brother, auntie and uncle of all hangovers, and a big knot of anger in the pit of my stomach. What a way to start 2004.


What I have done since New Year's Eve:


- Changed Jez's name in my phone to "Fucktard".


- Given up drinking for the month of January.


- Fallen down a flight of stairs.


- Visited Poole, Dorchester and Weymouth, (possibly the dullest places on God's earth). In the rain.


Can someone bring back 2003, please?
5.1.04 12:37


Motivation

Getting on the scales after the calorie-fest that is December is never pleasant.


Mum: Right, I've got eight weeks to lose a stone in weight.


Me: Ooh, I might try that.


Mum: (raising a sceptical eyebrow) Reeeally?


Me: I could lose a stone in two months.


Mum: Pffft.


Me: I could. Given the right motivation.


So we had a little bet. If I manage to shed 14lbs in 8 weeks, my mum is going to buy me a day pass to the Sanctuary spa. Now that's what I call motivating me.



I think she believes her money is safe. I also think she underestimates my Taurean will-power.
5.1.04 13:29


Perks

A couple of weeks ago, a package got delivered for one of the absentee head honchos here at Clerkenwell Towers. It was enticingly labelled "Holiday Gift Basket w/2 Wines & Food. Fragile - Handle With Care".


I finally tracked Absentee Boss down just before Christmas, and told him there was a parcel.


Absentee Boss: What is it?


YAAGers: I think it's a present from Head Office in the US.


Absentee Boss: Ah, I don't know if I can be bothered coming in to get it. Tell you what, if I haven't collected it in a fortnight's time, you can have it.


YAAGers: Aye, aye cap'n!


So now I am the proud owner of the following:


- 1 box of California Pantry sesame water crackers;


- 1 box of Camembert "Cheese Spread" (ah, those Yanks - so cultured);


- A cheese knife;


- A long pottery dish, purpose unknown;


- 1 bottle Hess Select red wine;


- 1 bottle Hess Select white wine.


I guess maybe I chose the wrong time to give up booze and dairy products...
5.1.04 15:09


Demise of the toxic swamp-monster

In my ongoing quest to shed some poundage and thereby score a day at the Sanctuary off my mum, I started a detox plan yesterday. "No problem," I thought, "how hard can it be?"


Answer: Nightmarishly hard.


Here's the deal - for the next week (or two, if I'm incredibly strict with myself) I will be existing on the following:


Breakfast: Porridge, or oatcakes with unsalted butter


Lunch & dinner: Steamed vegetables & salad, or baked potato with unsalted butter and salad.


I am not allowed any of the following:


Salt, pepper, caffeine, alcohol, sugar, bread, pasta, rice, fruit, a social life, fun, joy, happiness.


After only one day, my caffeine withdrawal is horrendous. I've been told that the headaches are hell (and I can now confirm that they are) and will last about 3 days (oh, what joy - oop, hang on, joy's forbidden isn't it?). My concentration is shot to shit, along with my ability to type. I want to kill everybody. Presumably this is just the toxins working their way out.


I never realised my body was that toxic. Christ. It must be like ICI in there.
6.1.04 11:28


ToxWatch - Day Two

Yesterday was something of a trial. My head felt like it was stuffed with wire wool and I wanted to take a chainsaw to all and sundry. So I had an early night (9 o'clock! I haven't been to bed that early since the days when I thought it was okay to wear knee-high white socks).


And today... well, I feel quite perky. The evil-dwarf-with-a-machete headache is more or less gone, replaced by a slight dullness behind the forehead. I don't feel like killing anybody. And I am actually able to smile again. So it looks like the worst might be over.


But. I am still fantasizing about grande cafe lattés. And taking all the office goodies upstairs was a real test of willpower (Bourbon biscuits! Chocolate Hobnobs! Maryland Cookies! Big loaves of soft white bread! Sweet Jesus!).


On top of this, I really am not looking forward to my fifth meal of plain-baked-potato-and-salad in a row. Principally because of the reaction I get in the café when I place my order.


Italian Café Owner: Next!


YAAGers: Hi, I'd like a baked potato, please.


ICO: Sure, what you want on it?


YAAGers: Nothing, thanks.


ICO: Butter, salt, pepper?


YAAGers: No, just plain, please.


ICO: (gives me a look like I'm from Mars) Anything else?


YAAGers: And a salad box, with lettuce, tomato, cucumber and sweetcorn.


ICO: You want olives? Roasted vegetables? Egg? Mozzarella? Bacon?


YAAGers: (visibly salivating) No, just a plain salad, thanks.


ICO: (now looking at me as if I'd sprouted an extra head) Okaaay.


YAAGers: I'm on a de-tox.


ICO: (laughs heartily and charges me an extortionate amount for my depressing little lunch)


By the end of this week, I think I'm going to feel physically sick at the very idea of a baked potato.


  Oh Jeez, I think I'm gonna barf...
7.1.04 13:12


My time perception is being affected

I just realised that this is actually Day Three of my detox. Whoop! Only four days left of this hideousness.


Went into a different cafe to get my potato today, after buying a plain salad in M&S.


Different Italian Café Owner: How can I help you, beautiful laydee? I am all yours - ah, how I wish I was! (laughs heartily)


YAAGers: Ah. Yes. Aha. Um, can I have a plain baked potato, please. With nothing on it?


DICO: Nothing?! (as if this is a terrible affront to his establishment) Not even some butter? Some pepper? Some olive oil?


YAAGers: No, nothing.


DICO: You have brought your own filling, yes?


YAAGers: Er, yes. (playing my trump card) I'm de-toxing.


DICO: Ah! Well we have a special detox salad, with chick peas! Try it!


YAAGers: No, it's okay, I've got my own salad...


DICO: Try it! It was made by my wife.


YAAGers: Really, I'm fine.


DICO: I just put a leeetle bit by your potato so you can try it.


YAAGers: (giving up) Oh, alright then.


DICO: And you're sure you don't want some olive oil?


It was actually a really nice potato (and I never thought I'd be able to say that again, ever). I didn't eat his leetle bit of salad though. It had chickpeas in. I'm not allowed chickpeas.
7.1.04 15:20


Willpower... crumbling...

Had my first jolly evening out of the year last night, as I joined a bunch of other 20sixers for a blinking session. Blog-drinks, that is. Not actual blinking. Although we all did blink during the evening, obviously, otherwise our corneas would dry out à la Malcolm McDowell in 'A Clockwork Orange'. And that wouldn't be very pleasant, and would have certainly impaired our hand-eye co-ordination.


Anyways, a précis of the night can be found over on NickD's blog (and a very precise précis it is too). I'd like to add some of my own personal highlights.


- The badges. Especially the huge one Geekboy had pinned to his tanktop, making him resemble an 8-year-old schoolboy.


- Geekboy and Erudite Baboon trying to out-geek each other with their impressions of Street Fighter characters.


- Em getting wildly excited by the news that Rudely Awoken is a personal friend of Billy Boyd. And then feeling the need to turn round and tell Erudite Baboon that "of course, I like you more".


- The somewhat eccentrically-decorated Italian restaurant. I can understand why they had a 'Godfather' poster on the wall. The poster of 'Braveheart' was a little harder to fathom.


- NickD's violent reaction to the word "Dairylea".


- And, of course, yours truly falling off the detox wagon in spectacular fashion. It started by everyone trying to figure out which alcoholic drink would be least damaging to my diet.


Geekboy: Vodka, because that's pure.


YAAGers: Yeah, but vodka and what?


Em: Lemonade?


YAAGers: I'm not allowed lemons... ooh, I know! Vodka, lime and soda!


NickD: But what if it's cream soda?


YAAGers: Gaaah!


And later on in the pizzeria...


Rudely Awoken: So who's having red wine?


YAAGers: Me! *glug glug* Oooh, this tastes so good. Give me some of that garlic bread. *munch munch munch*


A splendid evening - I haven't laughed that much in ages. And a nicer bunch of folks you couldn't hope to meet.
8.1.04 12:00


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