The Dave Report, USA-Canada-London, 1999 - 2000

Subject: THE DAVE REPORT, Part 1
Date: Tue, 08 Feb 2000 09:06:34 EST

Hello Everybody!!!!

HAPPY MILLENNIUM!!!!

Now before you start freaking out about yet ANOTHER impersonal bulk
e-mail and half of you (I know which half) start hurling abuse at your
poor computer screen, let me explain...

OK, bulk apologies first:

To all of you who have very kindly written to me for Christmas '99 or in
this new millennium to share all your exciting news and to wish me a
merry xmas and a happy 2000, THANK YOU!!!!, and please believe that I am
VERY sorry I've been unable to respond sooner. Life has been traveling
along at lightspeed the past month (year!) and when I haven't been
working, partying, shopping, or chasing loose women, I've generally been
too exhausted to set foot into the old internet cafe.

I PROMISE all you kind, corresponding friends that I WILL get back to you
all individually REALLY REALLY soon...well, it might be a week or two. I
know that many of you heap constant abuse on me for not e-mailing or
replying to you more frequently, but the truth is, I must be one HELL of
a slow e-mailer, because if all I did was respond to you guys...well,
eventually I'd run out of stuff to talk about, and each individual e-mail
would read: "my news this week: I e-mailed Tom, Dick and Harry and told
them that I'd spent the previous week e-mailing Jack and Jill and John".
Pretty boring stuff, right?

So...in the interests of having enough time to actually HAVE a life
(boring as you may find it) to write to you about, I just thought until I
get back to you all personally, I'd respond en masse to all your
queries/demands about my millennium celebrations and my life in general.
This way, when I DO get to e-mail you all one to one, I won't have to
repeat the same boring story over and over...gedditt??? I understand and
accept the point of view of several of you that this is
slightly/extremely impersonal/rude...anyone that thinks that, or doesn't
really want to read my about fascinating adventures, feel free to hit
that delete key right now - I won't be offended, I understand. But to you
all, please forgive me for succumbing once again to the evil of the
hotmail quicklist.

You guys buy all that crap????

Didn't think so.

ANYWAY, enough about you, let's talk about ME!!!

I think I've been naughty enough not to correspond with a few of you
since August last year, so lets skim over a few of the fascinating
adventures I've had since then...

FROM CAMP TO CANADA TO COD TO CENTRAL PARK:

After completing (surviving?) my second exciting (exhausting) year
amongst the delightful (possessed) children (agents of Satan) at the
hallowed (other-dimension) grounds of fantastic (no, it really was!) Camp
Kenwood, my dear friend AJ and I headed north and escaped across the
border into the beautiful land of maple leafs and mounted police (that's
"mounted" used as an adjective, NOT a verb).

First stop - Quebec. First shock - the realisation that no one had taught
us to speak French!!! Not a problem though, as we soon hooked up with a
charming tour guide, (our friend from camp) Kathleen, who graciously
showed us the highlights of this gorgeous little quasi-European city, a
place so French we figured "why bother with the source county?" {but we
probably will}. Kinda incongruous then to see - in such a quaint, history
filled mecca of beauty and culture - Kathleen dragging a headbanging AJ
past camcording Japanese tourists, out of a bar performance from a
Metallica heavy metal cover band, insisting we leave before the violence
flared up into gang warfare. Thankfully the hospitality of Kathleen's
parents quelled the fears in our hearts, as Mama and Papa struggled
gamely with their English, and AJ and I grateful that the universal
signal to accept superstrength beer was simply to nod and drool.

Travel Tip: To say "Thanks a lot" or "Thanks very much" in french, you
have to say something that sounds like "Merci bou-koo". I got several
looks of derision with my Aussie accented version: "Merci a lot, mate".
Doh!!!

We swapped french speaking cities - and sisters - for Montreal, and
Kathleen's sister, our next tour guide, the charming Maggie, who was
understandably embarrassed, when, walking down the main street of the
city, an old homeless guy starts yelling at me in French. I think to
myself "no big deal, just some nutjob", but everyone in the busy street
turns around and looks, half of them laughing at ME!!! Turns out I was
...well... adjusting myself (to put it politely), and this old guy
noticed and took it upon himself to comment. English translation: "STOP
TOUCHING YOURSELF THERE!!!! YOU'RE A BIG BOY NOW!!!!". Montreal offered a
huge variety of experiences after this though: we visited a Condom shop
(they had a policy of no refunds), watched a woman get brained by a
misdirected baseball bat during a game in the old Olympic Stadium, spent
ages in the "Biodome" taking gratuitous beaver shots (with my poor,
overworked camera) of these awesome (obviously non-union) beavers
tirelessly building this dam, and generally getting bemused (along with
the usual disgusted) looks whenever we attempted our french in
restaurants or bars.

Thankfully, the further west we travelled, the less french was required,
so in Ottawa, the only surprise we really had was when we woke up in a
jail cell...but don't fret, kids...it was actually an old jail that had
been turned into an awesome hostel. (We were still careful not to drop
the soap in the showers though...) Also provided a contentious issue
between AJ and myself: he INSISTED the correct, and more important,
CURRENT, spelling of jail is "gaol", per his 10th grade english teacher,
and "jail" is just some new-fangled slang. Please clear up, if you can
(care).

Obviously with intensely fought arguments like the above, AJ and my
tightly-hewn partnership was unravelling at the seams - but I suspected
it was more due to lack of vitamins than any real dissent. You see, we
hadn't spied a vegetable or fruit for weeks - since we'd left camp. I was
beginning to suspect AJ's continual chant "McDonalds - the cornerstone of
any nutricous meal" was based more on delirium than any scientific facts.
AJ also began to worry when he asked me if I was hungry, and I replied
"no, but I feel weak...".

Probably the least advisable thing to do in our condition was to scale
the upper-atmospheric heights of the tallest building in America...so
that was exactly the first thing we did on arrival in Toronto - straight
up the CN Tower. We could almost see all the way back home from the top.
Best part was the glass floor where you walk/hobble/crawl across trying
not to focus on the 300 storey drop right beneath the single pane of
glass your feet are fidgeting on. Nausea overload!!!! But grande fun!!!
Back on the streets of Toronto we snuck into the press circle of the
entrance to the Toronto Film Festival. Not quite the glamour of
Hollywood, no sightings of Arnie or Sharon Stone, but we did manage to
get Skeet Ulrich (the bad guy from "Scream" who looks like Johnny Depp)
and Jewel (some teenage singer-actress wannabee) to peer quizzically into
the press circle at us and wonder why two scruffily dressed guys were
waving dirty bits of autograph paper at them and pointing a tiny compact
camera at Jewel's enormous cleavage and Skeeeeet's drug-glazed eyeballs.
Incredibly, AJ (wearing old tracky-dacks and T-shirt that were begging
for a wash) managed to sneak INSIDE the stadium for a while and mix with
all the dinner suits and glittering gowns until he was politely ejected.
Ahh, the high life....

The next day, AJ was repeatedly shat on by a pigeon ("rodents of the sky"
- gedditt??) while he phoned our friends Catherine and Don in Cape Cod
(back in the US) and politely inquired if they would like us to visit.
Catherine and Don graciously/foolishly accepted our offer and I suspect
by doing so actually saved our lives. Not that AJ and myself aren't
hardened adventurers or anything, just that the fumes alone from AJ's
clothes would have killed a Canadian Moose, and my vegetable deficiency
was causing me to laugh hysterically at ANY incident...such as AJ losing
his passport WHILE we crossed the US-Canada border.

Anyway, Uncle Sam shrugged and said, "OK, you can come back in",
something Catherine and Don probably weren't counting on. But they very
kindly allowed us to clean out the fridge with our stomachs and test
their washing machine to nuclear waste standards. Of course, we didn't
have QUITE such a free ride. You see, Catherine and Don have two lovely
kids, Rachel (3) and DJ (just 2). It was most DEFINITELY a case of "Don't
Tell Mom The Babysitters Don't Have A Flying Fig What They're Doing". The
first hour was fine, courtesy of "The Lion King". The next five
hours...something like "Lord of the Flies" meets "Three Men and a Baby".
Just picture DJ lying on the floor SCREAMING at me and AJ as we attempt
to REMOVE his diaper (the means nappy). For some reason, DJ required AJ
and myself to alternate the nappy changing stages - he'd let ME undo the
velcro thingy and SCREAM if AJ tried, and vice versa for the ther stuff.
Needless to say, it took me and AJ a while to get our heads around the
diaper protocol. Meanwhile, we've got stereo screams coming from DJ's big
sister, Rachel who (having insisted on trying on EVERY single one of her
dresses for us), has shut herself in the toilet and refused to come out
until we find her "binky". "Binky?" We offered Rachel EVERY toy and
blanket and dangerous electrical appliance in the house, nup, none of it
was the precious binky...it was only after Mom got home (thankfully just
in time for DJ's diaper change No. 2, you know?) did we discover binky
was one of those things kids stick in there mouths and suck on (to stop
them screaming, I guess).

Anyway, the rest of our experience with the kids was pure delight - not
just the kids, but the whole family, as AJ and I let our home country
down when we were soundly beaten at every game from trivial pursuit to
chess to pool. (Although I DID whip Catherine and AJ at darts and front
yard footie.) Don even took us fishing in reputedly the biggest catchment
area on the east coast. Well DON caught a fish - a huge bass with a
bigger mouth and definitely bigger weight than AJ. But all I reeled in
was a colossal crab. Unfortunately all AJ caught was the smelly fish guts
from the bait in his face - when I tipped the bucket the wrong way and
the winds from the hurricane that was brewing changed direction.
Whoops...

After the domestic bliss of Catherine and Don's place, after recharging
our bodies with vitamins (and Jack Daniels) and our clothes with washing
powder, we returned, for maybe the seventh time, to our favourite city on
earth - the Big Apple. Unfortunately, this time, the sheen had dulled a
little on the apple skin, and the worm inside was a little more active.
The first night in the hostel I awoke to a squeaking sound - not the
mouse in the room, which had retired at a decent hour - this was coming
from the bunk bed less than a foot away...yep!!! Rumpy-pumpy. Shagging.
Horizontal Folk Dancing. The Four Legged Frolic. SEX!!! I could have
reached out and touched them!!! Yuck!!! Despite being the closest, I
apparently had slept through the foreplay (thank God!) and was the last
occupant of the room to awaken - the others were all leaning over to
watch and giggling. It was NOT a dream!!! If only I'd been able to sleep
through the drunken comment "aww shit, the condom broke". And the worst
thing? The guy was Australian... I spoke in a accent around the hostel
after that.

So our trip to New York was not quite as romantic as our first epic visit
- but it was STILL New York, and our passion had not waned, not really.
We returned to Yankee Stadium and danced to the YMCA again - and the
Yankees WON this time!!! We star-spotted Michael J. Fox, Robin Williams
and, breast of all, Jamie Lee Curtis. We said hello again to Times
Square, Central Park, the Statue of Liberty, the Star Wars department of
FAO Schwartz, the Empire State, the Seinfeld Restaurant, the grouchy
subway workers, and the happy subway beggars. We watched a naked Indian
dance down Broadway playing the violin. We fed, once again, off the
awesome energy and vibe and life of the city. And one night, we found
ourselves in the police station...

Just when we thought we'd experienced EVERY aspect of this wonderful,
varied city, we discover one more - we get robbed!!! (Well, AJ did). So
we got to hang out for a few hours at the 81st Street 14th precinct NYPD
station. It was actually REALLY quite disappointing - NOTHING like "NYPD
Blue" or "Hill Street Blues" - NO bad guys being hurled around in cuffs,
no drug dealers screaming abuse. Just a few ordinary looking cops, some
swarmy lawyers, a John Gotti goodfella type, and a couple of dopey
Australians. Ohh well, one more NYC experience we don't have to do next
time.

So that's about it for the North American travels in 1999. Nothing like
the huge epic 22 state journey of 98 that AJ and I shared with our fellow
Aussie Adam in 98, but just as few weeks amblin' around on those
wonderfully comfortable Greyhound coaches and sampling a little of the
north east. SO MUCH more to do in those areas, but...so little time...and
money. But mainly just so many more things we want to check out first.
Like Europe. And our first stop (well, my second)...London.


LONDON: THE RETURN

He's back. He's bad.
(He's hungry. He's tired. He's sick. He's broke. He's homeless.)

OK, so there are LOTS of worse places in the world to fly into without a
CLUE where you are sleeping that night. Particularly as I'd lived in
London for six months earlier last year and DID know one or two people.
But who knows WHO I'd offended in my absence (not that my absence is
likely to offend - usually the reverse, but...). It was a work day back
in late September 99 when I curled up on the cozy metal benches in
Heathrow Terminal 2 and dozed, trying not to emit too confusing an odor
to the drug squad dogs wandering around. When my friends arrived home
from work, I made a few calls. Luckily, my timing was exceptional and I
scored my old, just vacated room in my old friend Alison's place.

Unluckily, the illness that had chased me through Canada and the US
caught up with me as soon as I hit London and said "where do you think
you're going, mister?". Even though I scored my old bar job within a day
of returning, I had to quit after one shift due to my body becoming one
with Alison's couch and refusing to move. Mercifully, the wonderful food
that Alison's "beau" Julian regularly served up strengthened my aging
frame and after a week I managed to peel myself off the upholstery and
unglue my eyes from the "Eastenders" repeats and Dino-documentaries I was
inhaling from the television and start pounding the pavement in search of
gainful employment. If such a thing exists. I just wanted a job.

It didn't take long, because, strangely enough, even a town as huge as
London has some use for my skills (if you can call them that) and within
another couple of weeks, I had three offers - all on the same day!!!!
Tough choice, but I went with the one where I wouldn't have to iron...

My choices were simple:
(1) Temp jobs paying crap money doing "monkey's work", sitting on an
ever-enlarging arse in an office, playing with a keyboard, feeling my
eyeballs go square and my brain go mushy. (Suit and tie, hence ironing,
generally required).
(2) Working in a Book store in Central London, getting paid even CRAPPIER
money, reading lots of cool books and magazines every day, meeting
authors, dealing with an interesting cross-section of the London
community (ie: great perving potential). (Crumpled clothes, hence no
ironing, de rigeour)

Take a wild guess which one I chose...

And I've never looked back. Sure, a few £££ more an hour would be nice,
and retail over Christmas WAS exhausting, but generally I've LOVED it.
The other staff are interesting, I've got my finger on the throbbing
pulse of literary pop culture and the clientele...geez, I served a guy
this week wearing spurs!!! Not to mention that lingerie model yesterday.
(And TODAY, this biker-chick with a belly-button ring comes in and tells
me how cool my hair is and how much she'd love to run her fingers through
it. And people say bookstores aren't sexy!!!!) Half the customers don't
speak english, so I'm half prepared for Europe. And I love helping
people. That might sound corny, but it's cool to see those grateful
smiles on all those faces (especially biker-chick). Not that I probably
won't go back to office work to earn a few more pounds eventually, but
for now, the fun of retail hasn't worn off.

When I started at the bookstore, I was classed as a "floater", which
doesn't refer to what half of you are thinking as you remember that scene
from "Caddyshack", what it meant was I moved around to all the different
stores as required, working a week here or a few days there, depending on
business or how soon it took for the staff to get sick of me. "Floating"
was great, I got to work in all these different areas of London, within
walking distance of Big Ben, or Tower Bridge, or St Pauls, or the
Wimbeldon Tennis Courts.

But for Christmas, my favourite store picked me to stick with them for
the busiest period of the year (90% of all books in the world are sold in
December), so for the last couple of months, I've found myself working my
flabby little butt of in a store smack bang in the middle of what I've
been told is the busiest shopping street in Europe. It's called Oxford
Street. Some of you may have heard of it. Those of you who've been to
London have probably felt your pounds get sucked into the Oxford street
vortex. Most of the year, walking, shopping, working on Oxford street is
intense. During December, it reaches a level of insanity that...well, I'm
glad I experienced it, but I DON'T want to go through that again.
Christmas Eve, when we shut the doors, I felt like we'd won a war!!! But
just barely!!!

The huge adrenalin rush this Christmas wasn't just from the intensity of
the store - it was also due to the awesome feeling I got from the street
itself - dozens of huge red double decker London buses and black cabs
zooming past, metres from the door, a huge sea of incredibly cosmopolitan
humanity ebbing and surging around them, gorgeous Christmas lights
twinkling above - well, most of you guys know what a sucker for Christmas
I am, and it was hard not to whistle Jingle Bells once or twice as I hung
off the back of those red buses,
rumbling down the street towards my store door. The only thing missing
was snow!!! (We got that this winter, but not right in the city).

Anyway, the Christmas stampede has now subsided to a January trickle, and
the stress-free environment of the bookseller has settled once more.
Unfortunately, my tenure at Oxford Street has come to an end and, despite
an option to continue "floating", I decided to accept a permanent
position (with a few more pitiful £££) which I was foolishly offered at
another branch, this one located in north west London, only a few trains
stops from where I now live (more sleep-in time!!!). My new store is
situated smack bang in the middle of some of the wealthiest areas of
London, and I've been warned that I'll be hobnobbing with not only the
rich and famous, but also the incredibly snobby and snooty. Which is one
thing I've noticed working in a service industry in London - the
hilarious snobbery emanating from "old wealth" English people, usually
women (sexist, I know). But whereas back in Aussie-land, people with
superiority fixations tend to base them on the USA standard of how much
money they make, over here it's so much more what class you've been born
into. And classes don't come much lower than convict descendants!!! Looks
like I'll have to practice the "fair dinkum, ya sheila" and "strewth
love!!!" for my new clientele. (Footnote: since I wrote the above
paragraph, my orginal store just lost a permanent employee and engaged in
a bidding war for my services that would make Michael Jordan
blush...anyway, turns out Oxford Street wants me more, so I'm not moving
but staying smack bang in the centre of London's glorious shopping
community. Woo-hoo!!!)

Anyway, I don't know if any of you guys caught it, but in the above spiel
on my job, but I said somewhere "few stops from where I live".
Now after moving a few times on my most recent return to London, for a
while I shared a hotel room with my friend Trudy, who was dating one of
the staff - a french guy, and I was woken every morning by Trudy's own
personal wake up call - kissy-kissy noises and "mon cherie!!" expulsions
- like a Pepe Le Pew alarm clock had come alive!!! But the expense was
the main reason I had to leave that place. Two months ago, I did...

Now, don't fall backward off your chairs, but, where I live NOW is NOT
the usual hostel, friends couch, park bench, but...well, believe it or
not, for the first time in 18 months...I have a...a HOME!!!!


HOME

It's nothing special, not to look at. It's just an old rundown house. But
it's MINE!!! (Well, mine with the five friends and dozen dossers I'll be
sharing with). But it's a HUGE step for me. For the first time since I
left Bris-Vegas, I've conquered my phobia for any entanglements requiring
long term (ie: six month) commitment, and entered into a lease. But my
hand still shook with fear when I signed it...

Not that I haven't settled down before, for a month or two at a time. But
those were all just dossing on couches or hostel rooms or subsiding
someone's rent for the spare room. And, holy moo-cow, how much did I move
house back then!!! I sat down and worked it out today - since I left
Australia, back in June 98, I've moved into semi-permanent abodes
EIGHTEEN times - 18!!!! That's an average of a move a month. And that's
not including travelling time or the frequent occasions when I found
myself waking up at a friends or strangers house. That count of 18 was
only those places I actually unpacked my bag(s) and returned to the same
mattress a few times. Fun stuff, great way to meet people and get to know
your city, but bloody exhausting. I must have started looking like a
purple turtle to the public transport staff around hear, forever lugging
my colorful backpack across and around and about town.

So one of my first priorities when I reached London was to find a place
to rest my weary back for a decent timeframe. Not that I found the place
- that was left to the girls we moved in with. I teamed up with my mates
AJ and Adam from camp, along with Adam's girlfriend and a couple of HER
girlfriends and we (ie: the girls) found a place big enough for the six
of us - and MORE. By teensy tiny London standards, this place is HUGE.
Sure it's a little old, but it's quaint and Victorian and VERY english,
and the heat works (usually), it's about as cheap as ANYONE is going find
in this pound-sucking city, and, best of all, there's plenty of room for
guests. So too you all, PLEASE let me extend this completely sincere
invitation, which I guess basically is the primary reason behind this now
epic letter:

You, all and any of you, friends or family of, etc. etc., are welcome in
our home at any time.

To visit of course, but also I really mean - because so many of you are
in transit like myself - to crash, to stay a while, doss till you find
something of your own, or leave the country to continue your travels,
whatever...

We have plenty of spare mattresses, one couch, plus a quite new sofa bed
I found the other night near the tube station and carried home with Adam.
If the place gets too crowded, we can always promise the bath, the
garage, the floor. (AJ is willing to give his bed up for basically all of
my female friends, or at least willing to share it).

The reason making this invite is so important to me is that I know,
personally, what it's like to have little money and nowhere to live in a
strange city, and I also know personally the kindness of friends who
offered couches or beds or spare rooms to me till I got sorted myself.

And now that I AM relatively sorted, let me repeat my offer, to any of
you who need it, or even wonder if you might, our hospitality is yours.

To all my other friends who don't need it, but live in London or are
coming over soon - make sure you visit!!!!

Our address:

50 Leigh Gardens
Kensal Rise
NW10 5HP
LONDON
UNITED KINGDOM

Our phone number:

0181 - 968-7263

(If you can't get us on the house phone, AJ's mobile is 07941020869)

So tell me tell you a little bit about the place. Kensal Green is north
west london, pretty nice area compared to many, we only see the
occasional mugging. It's super convenient/accessible by public transport,
bus or tube almost door to door. OK, so on the map it may look like our
street is sandwiched between the gas works, the cemetery and the train
line, but you seriously never notice them!!! Speaking of the cemetery,
Number 50 is in the dead centre of our street, gotta be a good sign. We
have a front yard (a berry bush & some dirt), a back yard (a jungle of
weeds and junk, but a summer party spot begging to happen), a driveway
(cricket pitch in summer), a garage (no car inside, but plenty of flotsam
and jetsam from the previous tenants to scavenge, like the toasted
sandwich maker and the plastic pigeon). Inside, the kitchen is huge
enough for Adam and AJ to whip up huge culinary (and healthy,
vege-filled!!!) feasts, and the living room big enough for me to sprawl
out and eat them.

I share a room with AJ on the ground floor - a cavern so vast sometimes
we get lost. Our room is painted completely in bright red (or disputably
orange), which made for some interesting dreams, until we covered half
the walls with photos of all you wonderful people, plus maybe one or two
of Liz Hurley. And Catherine Zeta-Jones. And....
The camaraderie of travelling with AJ has slipped easily into this
domestic, room sharing partnership. Sure, I've almost strangled him in
his sleep a few times to silence his full symphonic snoring tunes, but
apart from that, it's been bliss. Not that we've been home that much to
do more than sleep (snore), scoff food and shower.

About our shower. We didn't have one when we moved in. Just a bath. Now
lying in a cooling pool of your own smelly, dirty water might be
something the english get off on (and trust me, many do!!!), but it was
NOT gonna cut it with six sweaty Aussies. And unlike those locals who
have a hand held shower thingy but no shower curtain, so they basically
shower sitting down in the bath (trust me again, they also exist), at 50
Kensal Green, we decided that the eve of the 21st century was an occasion
for our bathroom to at LEAST step into the 20th century...so against our
landlords demands, we installed our own shower. And most amazingly...it
works!!!!

So we've got a shower, beds, TV for AJ, fridge for myself...the place is
awesome. Really feels like home. Adam inaugurated the photographic "Wall
of Shame" in the lounge room by sticking up an embarrassing photo of him
flashing his favourite side to the camera while covering up the "P" on a
"NO PASSING" road sign. We hung up a blow up skeleton and perched the
plastic pigeon in place of pride. The girls even bought a Christmas
tree!!!! And guess WHAT!!! It was real!!!! I KNEW that SANTA was real,
but I thought Christmas trees only came in plastic and from K-Mart.


PARTY TIME!!!! EXCELLENT!!!!

Christmas was divine. OK, so I went through the usual homesickness spell
with the phone calls home to family and friends. But...Christmas in
London...in WINTER - the way it's supposed to be. Maybe it didn't snow
that day, but it did that week... And we had Roast Turkey for dinner, and
it wasn't the only thing to get stuffed. We gorged ourselves on great
food and abundant booze and crappy TV and fantastic friendship. Santa may
not have visited me personally, with any material presents, but he
certainly dropped off a shitload of good feeling in the last Christmas of
the millennium. I felt incredibly lucky to have the friends around me
that I did, not to mention the loved ones all around the world, and of
course the wonderful opportunities awaiting me in the new millennium.

...but maybe I was just pissed...

Social life the last couple a months has been frantic. You just GOTTA
catch up with all those friends you HAD to see before Christmas, so there
was a string of drunken pub or restaurant visits in the last weeks of the
century...all a happy blur now. One night, after a celebratory drink or
five with new friends from the bookstore, I found myself with them on the
outskirts of London in a little village surrounded by SNOW!!! -
wet-fluffy-white-stuff all over the cars and road and lawns. Naturally, a
huge drunken snowball fight ensued...

As the 20th century began to expire, options began to arise for the much
mooted last night of the millennium, the party to end all parties...New
Years Eve. Invitations sprang forth from hospitable friends...come to
Brittany, come to Canada, come to the Alps, come to the beach. Times
Square may have been the ultimate but all this was pretty much outta my
budget. True to form, nothing was really planned until the last minute.
As it turned out, it was one of the best nights of my life (whether that
says more about the quality of the experience or how sad my life has
been, I'll let you be the judge).

*** Unfortunately however, I'll have to leave you all on the edge of your
suspense laden seats, cause hotmail has just announced that I've exceeded
my maximum bytes for one email of rubbish news, so I have to resume this
sad tale in THE DAVE REPORT, Part 2. Stay tuned...


Subject: THE DAVE REPORT, Part 2
Date: Tue, 08 Feb 2000 09:11:31 EST


...transmission resumed.

For those of you still with me, (IE:, those who haven't given up in disgust), I thank you for hanging in there. I PROMISE, not long to go now. Besides, I'm just about to tell you about New Millennium Eve!!!

On the hallowed "party night of the century", AJ, Adam and myself, and another five friends rendezvoused on the north bank of the river Thames for the much-mooted "biggest EVER" fireworks display. The entertainment - from the fireworks, the crowd, and most of all ourselves, was free, so it fit our budgets. We got happy at home first with a few bottles of champagne, then headed off. Our first scare was the description of themselves provided by the girls we'd arranged to meet, but did not know: they told us they'd look like transvestites, and that one would be wearing a huge pink skirt. Although the description was somewhat accurate, there was nothing really to worry about and a few hours later one of the girls was straddling my shoulders and joyously exposing about the marvellous view, and by the morning we were all acting like lifetime friends.

We survived our next scare - a huge crowd crush on the riverbank esplanade, a huge claustrophobic squish of sweaty, angry, scared bodies, the likes of which haven't been seen since the Brisbane Ekka. Luckily the spot with with the best view had thinned out a lot by 11pm, and we had enough room to dance, sing, laugh, hug, meet all friendly passersby, consume a little chemical sustenance, and best of all (apart from laughing), watch Big Ben count down the last hour of the millennium. It was an almost perfect position - one way up the river I could see St Pauls Cathedral and the other way the gorgeous imposing spire of Big Ben, surrounded by swivelling floodlights, and all eyes where fixed furiously on maybe the most famous clock in the world as it counted down the hours...the minutes...the seconds. I'll never forget that vibe. The entire crowd around us ...around THE WORLD!!!...is buzzing, the anticipation is like nothing I've ever felt before - the dynamic of all these people, all here for the same experience, all excited - is ALIVE!!! Everyone is happy, partying, smiling, celebrating. The historic moment ticks closer...11.59 our mate Ben says. People are screaming, going ballistic, we can't hear anything but the awesome vibes washing through the crowd...strobe lights start flashing across the face of the huge clock, counting down the chimes..."LOOK!!!! LOOK!!!" I scream, then suddenly...

BANG!!!

This huge firework goes off right there, right next to Ben, and it's incredibly huge, it's awesome, it's magical and beautiful, but compared to what we see in the next half hour it's modest. It's also a signal for the crowd to go insane and reach a peak I thought they'd already reached...but the feeling of excitement just keeps rising...up and up and up...

My little group of friends all hug each other as we turn to watch the fireworks going off RIGHT UP THE RIVER!!!...not just a few little barges letting off a couple of clusters, but DOZENS stretched up the Thames for miles, and from our limited vantage point we can see at least half a dozen separate displays of magic, all going off syncronised to each other, in colour and movement and size. Beautiful stuff...heads tilted back, HUGE smiles plastered on our faces...awwwww...ahhhh....The gawking continues for ages the fireworks getting getting bigger and better - gorgeous and colossal clusters and streams and blossoms of brilliant light and colour...it's tough to describe the actual fireworks as much as the feelings, but as many of you know, I'm a firework connoisseur, and these were the best (even including Disneyland!, and even Expo 88!!!) But there were every conceivable type and size of firework, all perfectly choreographed - and the syncronised thing up the river made a HUGE difference on the impact of the display. The skies above were completely staggering!!!

The beauty and excitement and brilliance above symbolised for me the joy and hope in the hearts of all the people around us, around the world. Adam came over and hugged AJ and me and we hugged him back...the moment was special, we were all psyched to be spending such a momentous night with such great friends, such close friends...

And even as we hugged each other, there in the centre of London, we were, in our hearts, hugging all those friends and family and loved ones that we had all around the world.

The connection we had with each other was awesome...but we shared something amazing that night with the other friends in our group too, and that huge crowd there in London, and the entire world I guess, the entire global community tied together with pride at our past and hope for the future. The whole world saying "Yes!! We did it!!! Together!!! And it's gonna get better!!!"

It' s like nothing I've ever experienced...I could not have been happier....WOW!!!...One of the best moments of my life. My heart was in my throat as with the awesomeness of the extravaganza... entertainment and history and friendship and fun melding together perfectly.

The fireworks just kept going...and going...and going. Just when you thought they couldn't top it any more, they did...it got bigger and better...until you thought...that's gotta be it...it's over...

And it was!!! With a dozen huge climatic bangs and explosions that just kept topping themselves until...

Just lots of smoke wisping away up the river. And silence...the crowd is awestruck, speechless....Then a final exhausted yell and appreciative clap from the crowd, before the necks tilt back down and resume their usual position. But the huge grins remained stuck across those faces...they weren't going anywhere for while.

And our little group, we just smiled and laughed and hugged wished the world "Happy New Year". And then - we danced...

And danced and danced and danced and danced and danced...

We danced in the streets and in the bars and in the tube stations. We danced with friends and strangers. We danced until the skies above opened up and the rain poured down...we just kept dancing.

We followed the music around - from a guy with a boom box to a Jamaican Band on an outdoor stage to a little bar in Oxford street playing classic music from the old century - 80's music.

We met dozens of interesting people during our happy stroll/dance around the (closed to traffic) London that morning, chatting to happy revellers and grumpy revellers and bartenders and vans full of riot police. AJ phoned home and discovered he was an UNCLE - his niece born back in Sydney in the closing hours of 1999.

We all eventually made it home (HOME!!! we have a home!!!) by maybe 7AM. Too exhausted to sleep, we just kept dancing...well, our spirits did...we all collapsed in the lounge room and sang along to Adam's guitar. I'd love to say we watched the sun come up but...too much to hope for in London. I was the last one to collapse into bed - at maybe 9am - and just before that I wandered outside and looked east and watched the sky lighten from dark grey to cloudy grey.

The dawn of a new millennium. The end of a sensational night.

So that was it... What do you think? Turned out to be a brilliant end to the old century and an awesome beginning of the new one. To prove that latter point we had maybe an even better celebration two nights later - an impromptu housewarming type get together at our house with a few friends - at which the Jack Daniels and the Stella Artois got down and got funky with the Jacobs Creek Chardonnay that my Mum had sent me for Christmas. After consuming a few beverages, AJ and I attempted to cook a dinner for a few of our guests - and ended up turning the pasta into a thick mushy soup and giving our kitchen a nice splattered tomato sauce wall mural. Adam played the guitar and worked his way through his extensive song repertoire (including his own "creative" versions of a few) - he played for maybe six hours straight, so that when he finished (around 3am), his voice and his guitar playing skills hadn't failed him, but his legs HAD (he couldn't stand up), along with his ability to differentiate the taste of alcohol (he kept drinking the same glass of chardonnay and emphatically stating "this vodka is disgusting!!"). Alison fell off her chair onto my flatmate and she also attempted to leave the living room via the closet door - twice!!!. AJ, after helping Adam's songs with his own "interesting" backup vocals, christened the backyard garden in the same fashion he decorated the forest off Camp Kenwood's carpark and the streets of Boston, before I lifted him in my arms like a baby and tucked him into bed with his faithful bedside bucket. After Adam's concert concluded, the stayers cleared the coffee table from the centre of the living room to create out own dance floor and shook our booty until the early hours. I ended up dancing with the full size blow-up skeleton wrapped around my waist and an afro wig with "2000" glitter antennas on my head. Needless to say, it was quite a way to break our house's party virginity...

Since then, life has settled down - a little. The socialising has continued, albeit at a more sedate pace. The only noteworthy adventure since would have to be my first true excursion into London's clubland...a group of us entered a whole other world of sensory overload went we went to a club called "Fahrenhite" last weekend - I had an excellent time, the energy of the place was contagious the second we stepped in the door, but the best part was perhaps observing all the interesting "people" and dress styles and dance moves and...well, it's a whole other culture. My eyes have certainly been opened. Not something I could survive (physically, mentally or financially) if I did it every weekend, but certainly worth checking out again. They DO say this city has the best nightlife in the world. And as they also say, "when in Rome...".


NEXT...

So that's it. For the one person on my list still reading (Hi Mum!!), you are pretty much up to date with my life. I'm sure I've forgotten lots of fun stuff that's happened, but I think that's the basics of the last six months.

As for my plans for the future...hmm...

Thinking into the future for me really consists of the next few days...I know I'm going to work. I know AJ will snore. I know I'm going to the Walkabout on Wednesday night to celebrate Australia Day. I know I'm going out for drinks on Friday night with my work colleagues (we were going to celebrate me leaving Oxford street but now we're just going to drink!). I know I've have to try and get to another friends birthday party in Camden that same night. I know that BOOKS ETC. Christmas party is supposedly next Sunday night. I know I'll be hungover my first day of work in my new branch next Monday. I know I'm first in the queue to see "Toy Story 2" when it comes out next week. I know I've got tickets to some supposedly HUGE clubbing event at "FRANTIC" the week after. I know mine and Adam's birthdays are soon after that, so I assume (but I don't KNOW) that there will be some form of celebration of our continued existence on the wonderful planet.

That's all I know. Not a great deal. And not a great deal ahead. But it's something. As for the slightly more distant future - who knows???? To those Brisbanites, I can at least promise that I'll be away for another year minimum. It may even be longer.

That's the damn annoying thing about travel - the longer you stay away, and the more travellers you meet and the more places you go...you just can't get enough. You need more...and more. Travel is my heroin. The more places I go, the more places I want to go. I'm not crossing places OFF a list, I'm forever adding places ON to a list.

It's kinda frustrating, because I'm not missing home any less, I miss EVERYONE back in Brisbane (especially you, Mum!) more and more with each passing day, but I KNOW that I can't go home yet. The feet are just TOO itchy. I KNOW I won't have the time or the funds to get through HALF the destinations on my list, but...I gotta try.

The truth is, even when I'm NOT travelling, when I'm relatively settled in a different place, I'm still deliriously happy. I LOVE living with AJ and Adam, despite all the snoring and pathetic jokes, I don't think I've laughed as much in the rest of my life as I have since I've been hanging out with these two huge-hearted jokers. And I LOVE London...I love it for all it's diversity and culture and colour - for all its stimulation and energy. It's got SO much to offer, and even after living here for eight or nine months I've really only scratched the surface. SO many galleries and parks and palaces and museums and theatre shows right at my doorstep. I've really got to get off my ass over the next few months and soak up as much as I can, or I'll find myself like so many of my friends before me who've lived in and left London without having really seen it. I guess I really should stop meeting my friends on weekends in pubs and suggest meeting them somewhere different. There's only SO many bottoms of pint glasses you can see. (Although when we go on that Circle Line pub crawl, I'm going for the record!!!)

So that's the rough plan for London...work a while, enjoy the comforts of the house for at least the next four/five months (of the lease) and see as much as possible.

Saving ££££ has got to be included in there somewhere. My travelling companions of the last couple of years and awesome trips - Adam and AJ - basically want to do the same stuff as me - as much of Europe (including the UK) as possible over the next year or two. Africa after that. Central and South America are in there somewhere. Asia is the distant future...

But that's years away. Who knows where we'll be in a few months - we may even return to that wonderful place where the three of us met - Camp Kenwood, New Hampshire, USA. The past two summers we've all had there have been truly up there with the best of our lives, and - although we don't want to waste the number of summers spent in the northern hemisphere doing the same stuff - the pull of camp life is strong. We can understand why some counsellors go year after year - the place sucks you in, the longer you spend there, the more a part of it you feel - it's part of you, you're part of it. Kenwood is in our blood, the place and the people, and we may have one final summer in us. Basically, the truth is, we'd love to go back, but it depends on a few things...our jobs here in London, our lease, our house, how much money we are struggling on here compared to how much we'll be struggling on after we leave camp. All this of course assuming camp WANTS us back. As many of you know, two fun filled summers with me is enough for ANYONE to take, let alone three. We'll see.

So basically, as you can ascertain from the above non-sensical ramblings, my future plans, put in the smallest nutshell possible equals: (?).

The rest of the year remains a mystery...return to camp?...enjoy summer in London?...scrounge enjoy to buy a van and drive round Europe?...think about moving up to work in Scotland or Ireland a while?...sail round the Greek Islands?...you gotta love the suspense. We'll see. All I know for sure is that my activity will almost certainly be confined to the northern hemisphere, so you guys back in Bris-Vegas are safe for a little while longer. Enjoy the peace. I DO miss you all and as I promised at the beginning of this epic e-mail, I'll respond to all over lovely letters VERY soon. The same goes for everyone I guess, cause you're all scattered everywhich way around this crazy world. Thank you all SO much for keeping in touch with me. It's AWESOME to keep updated so frequently on all your news. I LOVE hearing from you all so often. I LOVE E-MAIL!!!

**PLEASE remember though, due to where I now work and live, I hardly have ANY time to check my mail lately, plus it is REALLY draining on my wallet. But I still try REALLY hard and will get back to you all soon - but it may be a few weeks between mails now. If there is anything urgent or important or even if just want to give me the thrill of hearing your voice, phone me!!!

To those of you lurking around the corner from me in London...beware. I'm closer than you think. I'll look forward to getting together with you all really soon. NOT necessarily in the pub...though it usually IS the most convenient.

(What I CAN offer you Londoners is my-just-this-second-decided-upon- opening-celebration for this year's birthday. My actual date is 10.02.00, right? (Don't pretend like you remembered). Well, the closest day off I have to that is Saturday, Feb 12th, and while I'm sure the celebrations will continue into that night, I think the most memorable way to kick them off would be with...what else?...a movie!!! And what a movie!!! - "Toy Story 2" starts that weekend. So...if you wanna see a silly birthday boy on the verge of his mid-thirties regress even further into childhood, I'll see you outside the Odeon Cinema in Leicester Square at 3pm on Saturday 12th February. And I KNOW that the excitement of "Toy Story 2" will be hard to top, but we WILL try, as the PG rating is lifted and the celebrations continue well into the night... )

But if I don't see you on Saturday guys, I'll catch up with real soon.
And to ALL of you, all around the world, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE remember my "pleas" to anyone earlier who might be seeking a place to crash. Jot down my address and number and DON'T FEEL SHY about using it. I'll be waiting.

Now, about the length of this letter. I was initially thinking maybe a few hours but it's been more like six or seven hours - I've written this over the last few weeks on several late nights when the internet joint is cheapest. I honestly had no intention to use up 60K or whatever when I started, I just thought that I had to share some news with you all that I haven't shared in a while, I thought maybe 10K, but I just got carried away, and rambled and rambled on. Sorry if it has been too boring for some of you, but I figured that at least one or two of you would appreciate all the different news reports flying around above, and I wasn't sure which one or two, so I decided to send it to everyone!!! (And besides, it makes a pretty cool diary (a relatively censored version) which I can keep for myself of the last six months anyway).

Nevertheless, it's almost over. Yippee!!! But, I'm still a little punchy from staring at this screen, and my mind is still racing, and the night bus isn't due for a while, so first, I'd like to sign off with my very own "Best of the Millennium" list. I saw dozens of best off lists flying around the press on the historic eve of the century. So what follows is my off-the-cuff compilation of unsolicited opinions about that beautiful, old, nostalgia-filled millennium...

(and of course it starts with movies...)

BEST MOVIES WITHOUT CARS: Offhand, I can't really think of ANY movies without cars, except the obvious winners: The Star Wars movies. And even if I hadn't put the "without cars" above, I guess they'd still win. Would somebody get this walking carpet outta my way???

BEST MOVIES WITH CARS: The Indiana Jones flicks. Not that the cars are that important, but if you look close, they're there. Hang on lady, we're going for a ride...

BEST MOVIES WITH CARS & NO WHIPS: The Mad Max Trilogy. And, as you've probably noticed, a LOT of movies have cars (and no whips). So they don't come much better than the Maxie movies, especially number two. You wanna get outta here, you talk to me...

BEST TIME TRAVEL MOVIES: Yeah, the Terminator films were pretty slick, but nothing touches Marty McFly in those Back to the Future flicks. Roads?...where we're going, we don't need roads...

BEST MONSTER MOVIE: Just LOVE those naughty Gremlins, and that T-Rex in Jurassic Park was superb, but these baddies still get edged out by this colossal-head-on-clash-of-the-titans-tie between two superheavyweights: Aliens and Jaws. You're gonna need a bigger boat if you don't get away from her, you bitch...

BEST NEW YORK MOVIE: All worthy nominees for making that fabulous city such an important character in the movie: Crocodile Dundee, Working Girl, Ghostbusters, Big, Annie Hall, Tootsie, Three Men and a Baby, Nightshift - but nothing comes close to the time When Harry Met Sally... And I DID have what she had.

BEST L.A. STRAIGHT ACTION MOVIE: Speed was fast enough to take Heat and pass the Lethal Weapons, but can't catch the ultimate rush - Die Hard. How nice to make your acquaintance, Mr MacLane.

BEST L.A. NON-ACTION MOVIE: Weird town, weirder movies: but the weirdest, and the best of them all, has no competition in sight: Pulp Fiction. And that WAS a good milkskake.

BEST CHICAGO MOVIE: This might give those awesome Blues Brothers the blues, and it might touch The Untouchables in unknown places, but above all these, who wouldn't wanna share Ferris Bueller's Day Off.
Anyone?...Anyone?...Anyone?...

BEST MOVIE WITH A FEW HORSES: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid may have been quick on the draw enough to take Maverick and The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, but nothing has the saddle-sore charm of those City Slickers. Soon you'll be dating sperm...

BEST MOVIE WITH WATERFALL JUMPING SCENES: Neither The Fugitive nor Butch or Sundance jumped into waterfalls, but The Last of the Mohicans did and he DID FIND HER. But gotta go with the flow and pick Jack and Joan and their little Renault in Romancing the Stone. IF ONLY his minimum fee for taking a stranded woman to a telephone had been more than 375 in travellers cheques...

MOST RIDICULED BOND MOVIE: If only for it's hilarious title - Octopussy - but it's really brilliant, second in the series only to Goldfinger, who, needless to say, would have those shining hands full if he ever met Octopussy.

MOST UNSEEN AND UNAPPRECIATED SUPERB MOVIES, EXCEPT BY ME: From least to most, none of these movies got the sort of attention they deserved (or the right sort of attention): Midnight Run (best buddy-cop-action-comedy genre movie, EVER), Grosse Point Blank (best high school reunion hitman comedy - EVER), Tremors (best giant burrowing earthworm movie with the dad from Family Ties...EVER), and...the least seen but most loved of all...Ishtar (okay...not many of us saw it. But we both loved it!). Honest! Telling the truth can be dangerous business...

BEST SHOOTING LOCATION THAT I'VE ACTUALLY BEEN TO: Recently saw them filming the Thames boat chase for the new Bond flick, and sat in a cinema in Notting Hill and saw on screen the exact spot I was sitting (in..der..."Notting Hill"...) a surreal but cool experience. But the winners are culled from 1998's epic location scout of New York: playing on the "Big" piano in FAO Schwartz and the diner I ordered what she had from the famous "When Harry Met Sally" orgasm scene.

MOST EAGERLY AWAITED MOVIES FOR THE NEW MILLENNIUM:
Things are looking up. I may only get to see a few movies this decade, but I'm absolutely FANGING to see, in ascending order of mouth-wateringness - Scream 3, Charlie's Angels (mmm...Drew Barrymore), Mission Impossible 2, The Green Mile, The Talented Mr Ripley, American Beauty, Magnolia, Being John Malcovich, Three Kings, Chicken Run...and last but definitely top of the list: Toy Story 2. It's a sequel sure, but it's the sequel to the best movie of the 90's. AND it starts on my birthday!! To infinity and beyond!!!!

BEST 90's TV SHOW: No choice but to giddy-up! and award a tie between those two champs of the couch potato: Jerry SEINFELD and Homer J. SIMPSON. Who could feel dysfunctional compared to the nonsense going on around these two legends. To me, they are both real and they are both spectacular. Mmm...television...Doh!!!

BEST 80's TV SHOWS: The three M's: M.A.S.H., MOONLIGHTING and MAGNUM P.I. If I had the surgical skills of Hawkeye Piece, the work ethic of David Addison and the red ferrari of Thomas Magnum, I'd be a better human being. At least we all share one thing: a rubber chicken.

OTHER T.V CLASSICS OF THE MILLENNIUM: Me and my FRIENDS said CHEERS and went on a STAR TREK with BJ & THE BEAR and ALLY MCBEAL onboard the BATTLESTAR GALACTICA to get some NORTHERN EXPOSURE. We ended up in E.R. where THE A-TEAM told us to GET SMART as they headed off with POLICE SQUAD for some WONDER YEARS and HAPPY DAYS in FAWLTY TOWERS... And the remote control was welded to my hand and they lived happily ever after.

BEST PUBLICATION: Tintin has got to take the title. With apologies to anything Shakespeare or Dickens or any other genius penned, nothing comes close to that tuff-haired dude from Belgium. His dog Snowy ain't bad either.

BEST THEATRE SHOWS: Tie between the only shows to bring long lasting tears to my eyes: The Lion King did it with wonder-inducing, jaw-gaping visual opulence and ingenuity, and Les Mis sucked me in with that story - genuine emotional overload.

BEST SINGLE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH (TM): tie between Disneyland, California, and Disneyworld, Florida. Of course, the people I went to each of these with might have had something to do with the happiness. Although how Mickey gets from coast to coast so quick, I'll never know...or want to.

BEST CITIES IN THE WORLD TO LIVE THAT (THAT I'VE BEEN TO SO FAR): London - for being the centre of it all, New Orleans - to party, Chicago - for its pure class, San Fran - to chill out, Sydney - for all of the above and for its unsurpassed beauty, and of course, my beloved New York - for all of the above too, and so much more... Can't forget Brisbane though, simply because it will always be my home...

SCARIEST CITY I'VE BEEN TO: Despite the aspersions cast upon New York, I felt as safe in Manhattan as I did in Disneyland. No, the scariest town - so far - was undisputedly Memphis: blood on the sidewalk, drug raids in our hotel, guys chasing Adam down the street for his sunglasses, and our friendly, chatty local bus driver advising us: "One thing about Memphis - you can get killed anywhere!!!" Lucky we never stepped on anyone's blue suede shoes.

BEST WOMAN TO GET INSIDE OF WHILE TRAVELLING: WHO could turn down the opportunity to mount the warm insides of lovely lady Liberty. Huge fun!!! The Statue of Liberty was also the most beautiful, inspiring unnatural thing in New York. (I was going to say "man made thing" but then I remembered that all those thousands of beautiful women are "man made" too, if you want to get technical.)

MOST BEAUTIFUL UNNATURAL SIGHT IN LONDON: Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament have a certain quaint English charm, but I think I prefer the exquisite, perfect Tower Bridge. With a red double decker bus to go...

BEST SUMMER CAMP COUNSELLOR: Can only be a three way tie, really... between Mr Adam Pearen for being the ultimate champ at absolutely EVERYTHING, A.J. Singh for making every single kid in camp laugh at least once a day, and...well...ME, I don't really know why, I guess just for loving all those kids so much.

BEST RESTAURANT IN THE WORLD: No contest - The Keg, of course!!! (Not for the food, you understand - I mean best for picking up fellow staff members)

BEST CELEBRITY ENCOUNTER: I served Kathy Lette and Gail Porter last week, and I saw the Queen at the movies one night with Meg Ryan, and I appeared on international TV chuckling alongside Rosie O'Donnell, and had my photo taken shaking hands the Mayor of New York...but I think I had the most fun with charming Kenny Kramer, the inspiration for Cosmo and for a lifetime of laughs.

BEST URBAN MYTH: Current favourite would have to be that nauseating tale of the lobster and the lonely lady (thanks to the four or five people - from all around the world - who e-mailed it to me last week). But I'll never forget that old classic...the maniac bouncing the boyfriend's head on the car roof...Whatever you do, DON'T look back...

BEST UNANSWERED QUESTION OF THE MILLENNIUM: If a Grizzly Bear had a fight with a Great White, who would win? (And before any of you smart-bottoms e-mail me back with: "On land, the grizzly. In the ocean, the shark.", the fight is in four foot of water. Whaddya think? I was just wondering...

(GOD, I'm tired!!! Is it obvious?)

BEST PIZZA DISCOVERY: tie between Papa Guesseppi's Supreme and McCain's Hawaiian subs. The frozen food section of Coles has been a lonelier place since they retired these two reheatable delights.

BEST McDONALDS DISCOVERY WITH WORST CONSEQUENCES: 29 cent Cheeseburger Day - every Tuesday in Nashville, Tennessee. I'd fly back for another eight of 'em if I wasn't scared of getting arrested for what I did on that bridge.

BEST CHOCOLATE DISCOVERY: Chunky Kit-Kats. Or Worst Chocolate Discovery, if you consider addiction to be a BAD thing.

BEST RESOLUTIONS FOR THE NEW MILLENNIUM: Sleep more. Eat less. Drink about the same. Travel more. Write down more memories. Photograph less memories. See more movies. Read more books. E-mail less quantity and more quality. Cut back to one chunky Kit-Kat per day. Call Mum more often. Be nicer to people. Be nicer to myself. And keep laughing about the same vast amount...

BEST WISHES FOR THE NEW MILLENNIUM: I guess the above resolution about being nice to people slots in here too. My only other wish - for so many of us - can be summed up with one of my favourite "Fishisms": "Bygones, people!!!" Life's just too short.

THAT'S IT!!!

I'm off to bed to start resolution #1.

Oh, yeah, I forgot one very important wish-upon-a-star: I wish that I'll see each and every one of all you people's wonderful smiles real soon...

LOVE YOUSE ALL!!!

Bye,

Dave

aka

David, Big Fella', Big Dave, Superdave, Davy-Baby, Sunshine, Davy, Tall Spunk, Man, Dirk, Homeboy, Johnny, Boutross, Your Favourite...and the rest...