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NEW YEAR'S EVE WAS BANANAS.


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New Year's Eve was out of hand. I rang 2006 in at a caviar and champagne party at some swanky loft, then drank a bottle of scotch and went absolutely wild. I walked into a gay bar, threw down a large bill, demanded that the bartender serve a round of mojitos to everyone there, and walked out. I ended up at 8 am with some Austrian artists in a hotel room doing a tremendous amount of cocaine and having a dance party. I then broke a lamp and they threw me out. Took a handful of codeine, ate pancakes at a diner, threw up in the diner. They called the cops, I ran through some shrubs and across a highway to get away. I drank a case of Busch light and watched "Clifford" with Martin Short yesterday, then went to an art gallery opening and took off my pants. I passed out on the hood of a Ford Taurus, saw the sun rise and got home today at noon. Whoa.

Grind like a peppermill.

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