I find every year to be full of so many events, I really need start writing them all down. Some funny, some sad, many shameful but never any regrets. I started off the year strong, my 2011 resolution was to get back into shape after eating and boozing my way through the Big Apple these last few years.

So in January off I went to Park City, Utah with friends for a ski trip. My second run of the second day I skied past the Glory Hole run with my friend Tim, who said he was “gonna hit that.” He made me laugh hard and took off ahead of me. I turned to the right, still laughing, caught an edge and fell hard down the hill. Why I always fall underneath the busiest ski lift I’ll never understand, so I had quite an audience.

As I tumbled, I could feel my left ski turning one way and my left leg turning the other until I heard a loud snap, like the world’s largest rubber band. I was lovingly taken care of by hottie ski patrolmen–one was named Tinker, no really. In the end I tore my ACL completely but the experience led me to discover my new favorite drink, the pickle back.  We went to the Sundance Lodge, I had to hobble in my crutches and knee brace. Tim ordered us a round of pickle backs – a shot of Jameson followed by a shot of pickle juice. Initially disgusted, I was quickly proven wrong. Tell me what you think.

In February I hobbled around New York City with my bum knee, got drunk one night on the roof with my neighbor, whom I barely knew, and had drunken sex. All the lights were on and the windows open–oh lord, my poor neighbors across the way. I made him do the walk of shame home in the middle of the night, one short flight down. The next day I found his Eddie Bauer slippers tucked underneath my couch. I didn’t know what to do with them because he lived with his girlfriend. I decided to leave them in front of the mail boxes in the lobby. What’s a girl to do?

I also was on KCRW’s radio show UnFictional, thanks to my dear friend Gemma Dempsey, who was a producer there. They recorded my story in a recording studio for over two hours as I talked about growing up in Newbury Park, strip clubs, Huey, Dad and life.

In March I had ACL surgery, where I received a cadaver achilles tendon and three screws in my left knee. My mom took care of me the first six days. After that, my dear friend David and other friends and coworkers, would drop in and make sure I didn’t fall over while giving myself an awkward sponge bath. I laid on the couch for two weeks taking vicodin, contemplating life and powered through the entire series of Madmen. God bless Netflix. I started physical therapy ten days after surgery and was amazed at how easy my recovery would be.

In April after only a couple of weeks in physical therapy, I developed a full on crush on my Bosnian physical therapist. I told everyone about him. I Facebooked about him. He had a huge following. I could barely contain my sheepish grin every time he put his hands on me to stretch me, especially when his head was between my legs. I think he caught me a couple of times. No I KNOW he caught me.

I also ran into Carrie Fisher at a restaurant in NYC. She recognized me, covered her face and said “Oh my God” as she hid behind the person next to her.  Needless to say, I have gotten over my girl crush on Carrie Fisher. In fact, I don’t even like her that much now–I’m on to her schtick and I don’t buy it anymore.

In May I went out to California to visit my dad for his 69th birthday–just weeks after his appellate attorney filed his last possible appeal after eleven years with the California Supreme Court.   My mother, sister and I heard Dad’s appeal was denied the day before we left to visit him in prison for his birthday.  When we got there, my mom, sister, aunt and I sat around the table at the prison visitor center listening to my dad talk about all the things he was going to do when he won his appeal and got out of prison.

After an hour, he got up to throw something away. I looked at Mom and told her she had to tell him. He came back and sat down, put his hand on my knee and smiled. Mom was emotionless as she said, “Michael, you lost the appeal.” “What?” he said in total disbelief. I held his hands on his knee, he was shaking. It was like telling someone they had six weeks to live.

In June my good friend Emeline got married. I adore her and went to France for the wedding. A total Francophile, I was in Heaven, spending five days speaking French. Though I did learn that I need to work on my “kid French.”  I had a tough time understanding her daughter, except when she wanted me to blow her bubbles that she could chase. I loved getting to know her family. They are like my second family now. The French are so open minded, no one gave me shit about being single like I normally get in the states. One guy I met was on his fifth marriage. “If something doesn’t work out, that’s ok, try again!” he told me. I went to the beach with her brother Erik.  It was the first time my body had seen sun this year, I decided to forego sunblock and fell asleep. Two hours later I woke up burnt to a crisp with second degree burns–the photo below speaks volumes. It hurt to wear clothes. However seven months later I still have a tan, worth it?

This time I went to Tulum, Mexico with two good friends. I used to love the holidays and never understood why people said the holidays were so hard. That is until I spent the last eleven Christmases in prison. I wanted to get away. I did and I felt good about it. I had visited Dad a couple of weeks beforehand. I had five days of sun, sand, beach, micheladas, steak tacos and ceviche. The best Christmas ever. I called Mom and told her I loved her. She was driving to visit Dad. The usual.

May next year bring even more stories for me to tell. I’m actually leaving out a couple of juicy nuggets—I need to maintain some sense of mystery…Happy New Year everyone! I’m very blessed to have amazing friends in my life. Live life to its fullest, take risks and have no regrets.