They Don't Call Her Fifi Box for Nothing...

The Guy Who Turns Out To Be the Movie Star In the End

After mentioning Luke in my previous post, I felt I should also talk about how we're heading off tonight to a screening of his feature film debut, Broken Hill. You can see the trailer for it at Trailer Addict, where he's totally making out with a Spy Kid.

This is after having seen him on Rescue Special Ops last night where, weirdly enough, he played a nice guy who turned out to be a stalker in the end (if you missed it, he's told me that he'll back for the season finale).

I'm getting the increasing feeling that if I'd listened to that agent I'd be rolling in Surprise Rapist cash right now.

Being Brian Posehn

Being a bespectacled gentleman, I have at times been compared to some fairly unflattering public personalities. I won’t go through the list, but you can rest assured that, having worn glasses since the age of 8, I have more than once been referred to as ‘Urkle’.

Now, I’ve learnt the lesson of talking too much about workmates on this blog, so I want to preface this little ditty by saying that I’m quite friendly with the person who made this comment and that, if she were to read this post, I’d hope she'd know it was all written in playful jest.

That disclaimer made, allow me to tell you of what would have to be one of the worst people I’ve ever been compared to.

Brian Posehn. I was compared to Brian Posehn. I was told I reminded someone of Brian. Poshen.

That name might not mean much to you. In fact, I practically guarantee it won’t. But if you’ve ever seen an episode Just Shoot Me or The Sarah Silverman Programme, you’ve seen Brian’s work.

Brian played uber-nerd Kevin on Just Shoot Me. This was the guy who was so weird and socially-retarded that even David Spade’s character felt like he could lord it over him. David effing Spade!.

Brian Posehn plays also Sarah Silverman’s neighbour in The Sarah Silverman Programme. The joke is he’s a big fat videogame-playing geek who also happens to be in a gay relationship with his roommate. Their catchphrase is a deadpanned “I’m so gay for you, dude.”

This is Brian Posehn.

This is Brian Posehn.


This. Is Brian Posehn.




This is the guy I was told I reminded someone of. It wasn’t said maliciously, it wasn’t said with the intention to hurt. In fact, the person saying it didn’t see why I was so shocked and embarrassed to hear such a thing. But honestly, that’s like being told you’re John Candy, or Rosanne Bar, or George Costanza. That’s just not good cricket.

So of course I became immediately paranoid about it. I sucked in my stomach all day and tried not to say anything in a dry baritone fraught with voice-breaking anxiety. I tried not to be a Frankenstein-style grotesque of comedic proportions. I tried to regrow any missing hairs on the top of my head.

I can only hope I succeeded.

Though out of all the things I’ve been called in my life, I still think “Brian Posehn” only rates as the second worst. Everyone has a toolbox full of prepared anecdotes for when they’re at a dinner party or similar social function and they need a frothy piece of personal history to fill in the space where only blank stares and awkward shuffling would otherwise go.

I often relate to people – more often than I probably should – the time I went with Luke to a short film festival in Brisbane. The entries were being projected onto a screen in the middle of a South Bank thoroughfare. People were crowded in the square, the majority of us sitting on the cold concrete.

We’re watching the short films, and every now and then this middle-aged woman would turn around and stare at us. Usually that would be a bit odd but when you’re hanging out with Luke you tend to expect it.

Anyway, we get to the portion of the evening where the judges are working out what the best film is, and the audience is using this as a bit of an intermission.

The middle-aged woman takes this opportunity to turn around and introduce herself. She says she’s a film-and-TV agent, and proceeds to gush over Luke, saying she could tell (upon his confirmation) that he was an actor, and that she could get him all kinds of work as a leading man, a model, etc, etc.

Perhaps feeling as if she was leaving me out of this conversation, the agent lady turns to me and says;

“Oh, not that I don’t think I couldn’t get you work as well. I could very easily see you as the best friend character, or the nice guy who turns out to be the rapist in the end.”

…

“The nice guy who turns out to be the rapist in the end.”

Thank you very much and goodnight, ladies and gentlemen!

Of course, it was thanks to that I started noticing just how many characters there were in films and on TV who were nice guys who turned out to be rapists in the end. I get the feeling that maybe I should have taken this agent up on her offer.

“Yes! Please! Cast me as the sweet, poor-sighted best friend of the girl who turns out to have been murdering her puppies and all her school chums in an elaborate ploy to sexually violate her by the end of the three-act structure!”

Surely, if I had, not only would I be rolling in vast mountains of cash, but people would be telling Brian Posehn that I remind them of him, and not the other way around!

Somebody Get Me a Stake, Part Two

...or "Marketing: An Idiot's Guide".

Step 1) Take a vaguely edgy photo of Angelina Jolie. Make sure to hint at that whole "she likes to fuck with knives / she's into weird blood stuff". Avoid allusions to her having sex with her brother, unless you want to be Jon Voighted.

Step 2) Apply Step 1 to teaser poster for upcoming horror comedy film, substituting Angelina Jolie for Angelina Jolie Jr (aka Megan Fox).

Step 3) Apply Step 2 to teaser artwork for HBO horror comedy drama, substituting Megan Fox for anonymous model / possibly (but doubtfully) Anna Paquin.

Congratulations. You are now a marketing genius. The end.

On a side note, Simone and I just finished watching the first season of True Blood. It was awesome. Bill Compton is just like Edward Cullen. Only he's not an over-domineering douche bag. And there's not a vampire academy in sight!

Top 5 Girly Men of Rock

And the Top 5 lists just keep on coming!

5. Frank N. Furter

He may be a fictional character, but there’s no denying the fact that Frank N. Furter has been hugely influential in pop culture. I mean, Hedwig (of Angry Inch fame) is totally riddled with Frank N. Furter’s DNA.

…

…no, that’s not how I meant it. You pervert.

Also, we’ll ignore the fact that The Rocky Horror Picture Show gives me the screaming shits.



4. Brian Molko

The first time I saw Pure Morning by Placebo, I couldn’t tell if Brian Molko was a boy, a girl, or a genetically-engineered neohuman.

Over ten years later and I’m still not sure.



3. Robert Smith

I like Robert Smith. I’m a fan of Robert Smith. But even I want to bitch slap Robert Smith. Suck it up, man! You’re 50 years old, for God’s sake! Put. The eyeliner. Down.



2. Freddie Mercury

I’m still waiting on that Freddie Mercury biopic to happen. His story has everything. Tragedy! Triumph! Moustaches!



1. David Bowie

Major Tom. Ziggy Stardust. The Thin White Duke. David Bowie is all these things and more. He’s an artist, a visionary – some might even say a genius. Dude’s also been married to Iman since 1992. That’s pretty awesome. But most of all, David Bowie is Jareth the Goblin King. And nobody’s cooler than Jareth the Goblin King.



I would post a clip from Venture Bros where David Bowie is depicted as the shape-shifting head of a secret supervillain society, but it’s nowhere to be found on Youtube! So in lieu of that, here’s a clip I pulled up at random.



By the way, if anyone knows what video Bowie released a few years ago where he’s standing in front of a mirror as an old man looking at a reflection of his younger self, for the love of God let me know what it is! I’ve been looking for it for ages and still can’t find it!

‘Til next time…

Further Proof There's a Microchip in My Brain...

I just remembered the time I woke up a couple of months ago with Jimmy by MIA stuck in my head, after having not heard it for weeks, only to turn on the TV and find it RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF BEING PLAYED ON RAGE. Which is really weird, because that video is over two years old and if they're going to play anything it's going to be Paper Planes.

It's proof, I tell you! PROOF!

Frank Darabont Is Stealing My Ideas!

A while ago, I was idly coming up with ideas for TV shows - it's something I have a habit of doing whenever I'm on one of my country trips (that's not some kind of drug metaphor. I mean, whenever I've driven out to the country for my job).

Aaaaaanyway, just as I'd thought a free-roaming zombie video game ala Grand Theft Auto would be cool, I also thought a HBO/Showtime TV series about a group of survivors in a zombie-infested world would be pretty cool. Then I found out about The Walking Dead, which is pretty much that idea except in comic book form.

Well, I figured, if they can adapt Dexter from novel to top-rating TV show, and make changes as they please, why couldn't they do the same with this? So I put my The Walking Dead-as-TV-series into my Good-Ideas-That-Will-Never-Happen pile and left if at that.

And then today, I find this on Chud.com;

Frank Darabont is close to finalizing a development deal with AMC to write and direct a tv series adaptation of The Walking Dead [...] Joel Stillerman, AMC's head of programming, production and original content says that "The series will stay faithful to the tone of the original novels. This is not about zombies popping out of closets,this is a story about survival, and the dynamics of what happens when a group is forced to survive under these circumstances. The world (in 'Walking Dead') is portrayed in a smart, sophisticated way."

Next thing you know HBO will be announcing a Batman TV series. And I'll have to start checking for microchips in my brain.

Top 5 Women of Rock

5. Sioxsie Sioux

So we have her to blame for all the emo punks sitting on the front steps of Flinders Street station. Seems like a fair trade. Just.



4. Shirley Manson

Forget the fact that these days she’s a Terminatrix camouflaged as a urinal. That doesn’t stop her from being awesomeness personified. In fact, it might even add to it.



3. PJ Harvey

I remember her being at Big Day Out about ten years ago and Jabba from Channel V was trying to get her to put on some trucker cap or something because Fred Durst was at the festival. She refused. And then she made Jabba bleed.

I might have made that last part up.



2. Chrissie Hynde

Pretender? I hardly knew her!

No, it doesn’t make any sense, but roll with me on it. Or not.



1. Joan Jett

Joan Jett is so freaking cool that they’re making a movie all about how cool she is. What’s that you say? It’s starring Twilight’s Kristen Stewart?

…

Ah, shit.

Top 5 Macho Men of Rock

I've been meaning to post random Top 5 lists for ages, because I'll often be composing them in my head. I thought I may as well try to do some more blogging by subjecting you to this numerical misery. Enjoy!

Top 5 Macho Men of Rock

5. James Hetfield

The lead singer of Metallica, James would be higher up the list if not for that whole Some Kind of Monster thing, as well as the fact that he appears to be playing an effing banjo in this picture (???). But that said, even after he’s given up the booze and the hard-rocking lifestyle, his still a dude who leave in the middle of recording to go bear hunting. I know I wouldn’t want to mess with him. Oh, and also? He’s a giant.



4. Josh Homme

Hardest rocking ginger. Ever.



3. Henry Rollins

Sure, he doesn’t drink, smoke or do drugs. But that just makes him even stronger. Strong enough to kick your head in if you pissed him off…or at least say mean things about you in his spoken word shows. Henry’s pushing 50, and you can tell he’s feeling a bit self-conscious about it because he’s singing in shirt and pants now, rather than his trademark gym shorts. Surely, ‘tis the passing of an era.



2. Lemmy

It’s amazing that Lemmy is still alive after all the years of self-abuse he’s put himself through. But not as amazing as our next entrant…



1. Iggy Pop

Cutting himself on stage, rolling around in broken bottles, and generally absorbing every form of mind-altering substance known to man. For decades. And he still looks like a python ready to strike. Also, forget the fact that he’s the godfather of punk; he inspired the look of Peter Jackson’s take on Gollum! Pa-chow!

Dear Blog,

I am sorry for abandoning you. It's not your fault. Really it isn't. And it's not like things haven't been happening that aren't worth blogging about. I mean, my God, I blogged a crapload about the Justice League movie and nobody gave a fuck about that, am I right?

No, the truth is I just haven't been bothered. I've been working for the most part, but the times I haven't been working I just, well...haven't felt like writing. Which has made the fact that I've been writing a book a bit difficult.

Yeah, I've been writing a book. Another one. After flogging a dead horse with the last book for about five or so years I figured I'd get back on a different, living horse and give this whole "being an author" thing another crack.

And you know what? I actually finished the damn thing! It kind of helped that the last book I wrote was a 110,000+ word monster and this one was planned out as being a slim, fighting fit 50,000 word effort. I even came in under the word limit, which is kind of like coming in under budget, only there's no money involved and no one really gives a crap.

I've printed it off twice now to take it through the personal editing process, and I'm actually very happy with how it reads. This is a good thing, as I've actually had a real, honest-to-God publisher say they'd be interested in taking a look at it once it's finished.

So with that offer on the table, you can understand why I'd be devoting my time to trying to get this thing into shape, and why blogging would be a thing I wouldn't have the right mindset to get into, right? Right?

Right?

In any case, and in summation, no I haven't committed blogicide, but at the same time I won't be making any promises that I'll be changing my ways and becoming a multi-post blogger dynamo. I hope that's cool.

All the best,

That Guy.

Forgot to Mention...

... Simone and I have tickets to see this gentleman performing stand-up next week;


(!!!)

Of course, am very very excited. Can't wait for him to insult Australia and Australians and for me to absolutely love it.

Somebody Get Me a Stake

If it not's bad enough that the top ten highest selling books in the country are pretty much all from the Twilight series (or companions to the Twilight series), we also have to deal with all the watered-down, creatively bankrupt imitators that are now springing up.

But they're not just ripping off Twilight. Check this out;

I won't even get into speculating on whatever the hell a "vampire academy" is. But I'm sure it'd be full of emo losers.

Bright Lights, Big Albury

Yes, I'm back. Again. And once again, I'm writing to you from the comfort of my Albury-Wodonga hotel room. What can I say? It's boring in a hotel by yourself, which gives you the proper opportunity to catch up on the blogging you've been meaning to do. Or go crazy and try to kill your wife and child. Whichever comes first, I guess.

So what've I been up to since last we met? Well, getting the new place sorted. Working. Going to prom parties (photos available on Li-Kim's blog, if you haven't seen them on Facebook already).

Mum stayed for a couple of nights before heading off to Tasmania. PK visited from the UK, after Simon had visited from Bris Vegas. PK gave me shit for not updating my blog. Simon vowed never to end up on Facebook... only to end up on it what felt like five minutes later.

Went on a bit of a spending spree recently, all of which was contained to online book buying. Bought Vol 4 of the Absolute Sandman collection at a $100 ($60 under the rrp!), as well as managing to track down the last two parts in William Gibson's Sprawl trilogy.

I'm also considering reading a Jodi Picoult book after finding out the main character is a comic book artist and it incorporates pages from his comic. Given that it also references Neil Gaiman, I think my fate has been sealed. Turns out the ol' JP is a big comic fan, even having written a short run on Wonder Woman (which I've also bought, but has yet to be delivered).

Went to our half-yearly conference for work and got ....... quite drunk. Simone can field any questions you may have, if she isn't too ashamed to be associated with me as a result.

Also went to yum cha for Carol's birthday, which was fantastic. In fact, I liked it so much that I took Simone to the same place the very next weekend, and had another fantastic meal. A fantastic meal with custard buns. Need I say more?

I'll try and start updating a little more regularly, but I make no guarantees!

Watched-men

When I first read Watchmen back in 2004, it occurred to me both the potential it had to be made into a movie, and how incredibly difficult a task it would be to actually accomplish that. Five quick years later and we have director Zack Snyder’s take on the material, and the results are… well, a little bit mixed actually.

I could go on and on and on about this (and you all know I could!), but I’ll boil it down to this; I was surprised at both how incredibly faithful to the material the film was and how, when it deviated, how wild that deviation was.

Maybe I’ll go on just a little bit more…

Small moments of violence in the comic were magnified into entire sequences where compound fractures were dramatically and grotesquely depicted, where blood splattered like white water at Wet ‘N’ Wild, and where the two most relatable characters (Dan Dreiberg and Laurie Juspeczyk, aka Nite-Owl II and Silk Spectre II) come across as stone cold, murderous psychopaths.

It’s this level of violence that warps entire meanings of these characters, who themselves stand in now hypocritical judgement of the hyper-violent methods of vigilante Rorschach. At least, in the cinematic version, he makes no excuses for who he is and what he does, unlike the other “heroes” who call him unhinged and then go around stabbing muggers to death.

Combine that with Snyder’s extrapolation of a brief image of a couple kissing and undressing into a full-on, multi-position sex scene and you start getting the feeling that this is what it’d be like if a 14-year-old was behind the lens of the film, staying as close to the source material as possible, choosing only to delve deeper than the printed page when it came to the sex and violence.

Not to say I didn’t like the film overall; compared to most superhero movies, its moral ambiguities and uncompromising adaptation of the graphic novel means it’s a difficult movie to outright dismiss. There were quite a few moments where I was staggered – happily so – that they’d managed to keep a small, throwaway moment from the comic that I’d regarded as special, yet unnecessary to the development of the plot.

And the changes that are made to the finale help to streamline the story in such a fashion that you can’t help compare it to the original story and wonder whether or not it might have made more sense to come to the conclusion that the film did.

I even liked the music selection; what’s not to like about an opening sequence set to Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are A’Changin”, or a fight scene to Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable”, or a third act opener using Jimi Hendrix’s cover of “All Along the Watchtower”? Multi-million dollar studio films don’t get soundtracks as diverse or interesting as this these days, and that’s a downright shame.

I wouldn’t recommend it to a non-comic fan. Certainly not as a cinema experience. Better to wait for DVD, stripped of the artifice of a night out and the expectation of some high-octane superhero action. It is, instead, a slowly unfolding mystery film with a rich tapestry of characters, each of whom get their moment in the spotlight… but it’s also a flawed adaptation of a superior source, where the cracks in the foundation are so fine you don’t see them unless you know where to look. Otherwise, you’re too busy staring at the ceiling just as it starts to cave in on you.

Maybe it’d have been better off in the hands of Terry Gilliam, or done as the HBO mini-series that fans dreamed about for years. But it’s here now, and overall, it definitely could have been worse. It ain’t no Dark Knight, but it’s no X-Men 3, either.

Consider This a Tease

The New Who

Right now, I'm watching a show on channel 2 (or as Generation Z will end up calling it, "ABC1") where the new Doctor Who, Matt Smith, is a heavily-featured supporting player.

So what's he like then?

Well, he has a strangely shaped head, with disproportionate features (big nose, big chin, big lips, big jaw, etc). And he needs to cut. His fucking. Hair.

In short, visually, he's the British James Van Der Beek.

But ... he blends an unassuming charm with an understated sense of authority and knowledge. He comes across as someone you can sympathise with very easily. In fact, I kind of like him.

Will that make him a good Doctor? Well, who can say?

...

...

...

... did you see what I did there?

What a Figwit!

This is a story literally years in the making.

Around the time that The Lord of the Rings was originally in cinemas, I stumbled across a fan site proclaiming its love for “Figwit”, aka “Frodo is Great---who is THAT??!!”



In short, Figwit was an elf extra in the background of the council scene in Fellowship of the Ring that, based on his striking looks, had managed to develop his own devoted following. Nerdy stuff, but to each their own.

Years later, I’m listening to the audio commentary for Return of the King (yes, I’m one of those guys. Like I said, to each their own!) when Phillipa Boyens and Fran Walsh point out that, in the scene where Eowyn is contemplating her future without Aragorn, Figwit makes another appearance, this time with a few lines. This was all courtesy of the cult following that had sprung up around this one guy. When doing re-shoots, the filmmaker’s thought it would be fun to invite the actor who played Figwit back, to please the “character’s” fans.

Four or five years pass. I’m sitting in the Henry Street living room after getting my haircut. Looking to pick up some more stuff I’d left behind (I swear, I’m the worst mover in the world) I figured I’d stop for a bit of a chat. Flipping through the latest Empire, I land on a page.

And am instantly blown away.

It turns out, after all these years hearing about this bloody Figwit guy, he turns out to be none other than Bret Mc-fuckin’-Kenzie from The Flight of the Conchords!!!



What the hell, man??

That’s like finding out Biggs Darklighter from Star Wars is actually Bill Bailey or some shit!

Needless to say, I immediately and breathlessly detailed the entire story above to Carol, who was likewise astonished. Or at least she pretended to be really, really well.

You can read about the whole thing in greater detail here. Rest assured, I will be telling everyone about this, regardless of how interested they are or if they have any degree of understanding.

Film Chat

It’s funny how your expectations of something can affect your actual experience of it. Simone and I went to go see three movies, all of which had very strong word of mouth (with one negative and the other two positive).

Australia was built up for months and months as an epic in the style of Old Hollywood, with a Sergio Leone-esque sweeping view of the titular country, its landscapes and its inhabitants. Rumours started circling about it fairly early on, and by the time it was released it seemed that almost everyone had a dim view of it (except Ben, of course).

So when Simone and I went to go see it, it was with fairly low expectations – and I think it’s safe to say we were both pleasantly surprised.


In short, it achieved everything it set out to. It was a grand love letter to a landscape often depicted as a nightmare, rather than as a dream. It was a rich mythologizing of a country and a culture that’s often written off as a punchline, and it was executed in a style that unmistakably brought to mind the kind of films that Hollywood doesn’t really make anymore.

Were people put off by the hyper-kinetic opening, where exposition was rattled off like machinegun fire, looking to breathlessly set up the entire story frame in the shortest amount of time (you know, like “Spaz” Luhrman does at the start of all his films)?

Were they put off by Nicole Kidman? I think that’s a big yes on that one, but I don’t see it personally. I’ve always found her off-putting. She’s always seemed much less an actual person and more like a porcelain shell, an image that gains ground with each passing year. But that was also what her character was meant to be, at least at the start, and when she began to thaw … hell, I bought it.

I understand that it’s not for everyone, but I have to admit I find it a bit mystifying that it’s as universally panned as it is. It reminds me of a film by the former Mr Kidman – Vanilla Sky – which was just as ridiculed and had just as much of an impact on me. But how much of that is a reflection of the film’s quality versus how my preconceptions have been shaped by the film’s negative reputation?

On the other end of the spectrum was The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, a film I’d been looking forward to ever since having first heard about it. With David Fincher directing and Brad Pitt starring, and with its incredibly intriguing premise, its pedigree was undeniable.


But in the end, I think one critic (whose name escapes me) summed it up best as “a movie that’s easy to admire but hard to love”. I don’t know if it had to do with Benjamin’s consistently calm demeanour, but I couldn’t help but feel detached from the entire story. I kept in step with it, but I never felt a part of it. I guess it didn’t help that we were seated directly behind some Chatty Bitches ™, but in the end the entire enterprise felt less like a movie and more like an exercise in technicalities.

Somewhere in the middle sits Slumdog Millionaire.


While there’s no denying it’s an excellent film, I think this one was the biggest victim of expectations versus reality. For months on end I’d heard nothing but incredible buzz about it, saying how uplifting it was, how it was one of the best movies of the year.

When we actually went to see it, I couldn’t help but feel a little let down. It got me in the end – goosebumps did make an appearance – but after all the hype I couldn’t help but feel that the story had been almost straightforward to a fault.

I think the final verdict will come when I get around to catching up with each of these films on DVD. There, removed from any speculation or expectation, I’ll be able to gauge each of them on their own terms, as they deserve.

Meanwhile, Micky Rourke as Crimson Dynamo in Iron Man 2?

Cooooool.

Notes from the Road, Part I've-Lost-Count

I’m in Albury. Once again. Dad expressed some confusion about the amount of time I spend on the road and how my missives from Albury fit into that. He thought that the only time I go anywhere as part of my job was when I came to Albury.

Just to clarify for everyone, I actually go all over the place, from Bendigo to Sorrento to Frankston to Ballarat. The only place I stay overnight, however, is Albury.

And I think I’ve finally found a hotel I actually like.

It’s the smallest room I’ve had so far, but it’s definitely the nicest. And the best bit? I got upgraded to a King suite at no extra cost.

I will be coming back, needless to say.

EDIT: Bedside lamps cast horrible fluorescent light. Still a nice room, though.

Unfortunately, No Accompanying Photos

By Friday, we’ll have been in our new place for two weeks. Everything’s going really well. We added an additional two book cases to the pair I inherited from PK when he moved overseas, for a grand total of four. And given that Simone and I both work in publishing, we need all the bookshelves we can get! Thankfully, they’re from Ikea, so they’re cheap, like the budgie.

Oooooh!

We also got a 12 cube storage unit for all the DVDs (which is already full, frustratingly enough!). Saturday night was spent putting together all the shelves we’d bought that day and then putting away all the books and DVDs that had been sitting around for over a week. This carried us well past midnight, during which we watched “40 Hottest Onset Hook-Ups” (which went for over two hours!!!).

Our oven is being fixed on Thursday, which is the same day our cable gets installed. God I’ve missed cable. You don’t really appreciate how little variety there is on commercial television until you’ve been subjected to it for an extended period of time. After that, the only thing that remains is to get the Internet set up. Oh, and the phone line. Gotta remember the phone line.

If ever I mention moving again, please feel free to punch me. In the face.

Quick Note (Oh, and Happy New Year!)

Wow, have I ever been slack! (or as PK called me in an email 'a not-so-considerate cowboy'.

The long and the short of it is that, in amongst Christmas, New Year and now moving (more or less packed and ready for the removal van to come tomorrow morning!) I've been somewhat busy.

While I fully intend to get an Internet connection established in the new place, it might take some time (all wireless broadband supplier tips and info most welcome, btw!). This means that it might be a while before I do a full update and get back to some semi-regular blogging.

Love to you all, and hope you're all enjoying your shiney new 2009! Talk soon!