Blurg

It's been a week since my last post. I don't know what to write really. I'm feeling a bit blurg. Not ill; just blurg.

Went to the tattooist last Tuesday for my penultimate sitting on my backpiece. Loving how it's looking and can't wait for it to be done. Not cos I'm bored of it, but because I just want it to be complete and awesome. And then I can start thinking of my next pieces. Well, of course I already am thinking of my next pieces, and I have at least three ideas loosely sketched out in my head, maybe four.

Yesterday, the missus and I went for our regular constitutional at Whitstable beach. As ever, it was lovely, and a nice day for it. Rather too nice in fact, since I burned the fuck out of my neck. Then we went to see the movie Mamma Mia! I really don't know what we were thinking. Truly, truly awful. But I knew it would be, despite the rather glowing review it received in Sight & Sound. I almost feel like writing that revered journal of cinema a letter of complaint for misrepresentation.

What else? Meh, nothing really. Still v busy with work, hence my continued absence from both here and from your blogs. Sorry guys. I will get back on track soon, I promise. And I'm not even crossing my fingers.

Is it Wednesday already?

It's my dad's birthday today. He's 61.

On Monday I had another two and a half hours' work done on my tattoo backpiece. It's looking so motherfucking rad now, man. I really love it. Which is a good thing, cos it would kind of be a problem now if I didn't, wouldn't it?! According to my little black book, that puts the total time spent in the chair so far at 12 hours. And unlike some tattooers, Xam tends to be working the whole of that time, rather than taking phone calls and shooting the shit with passers-by. As a client I really appreciate the difference. He reckons we'll be pretty much done in about another two sessions, or around five hours.

This week's session was the most painful yet. There were times when I was thinking I'd have to stop. I've never experienced that before. But I kept saying to myself, "If I tap out now, it's another six weeks or so until I get back here." That was enough to spur me on and endure the discomfort.

What else...?

Oh yeah, I sent Shea a copy of the short film I made (whisper it) 11 years ago, coupled with a music video from the following year, I think. It'll be interesting to hear what he thinks of them. If I ever get around to it, I might even post them up on here someday.

I've set myself a small film-making challenge for this week, too, so I hope to get that started and finished in the next couple of days.

Italy went out of the European Cup, losing to Spain on penalties. That sucked, but they didn't play so great.

If you've not been over to my movie reviews (such as they are) in recent weeks, there has been some activity there, though I confess to having been a little lax. I'm trying to get on top of that shit, cos I'm watching some good films at the moment.

I'm sure I had some other stuff to write about, but it's gone clean out of my head. Oh well, probably wasn't very important. Not as important as me getting downstairs to deal with the washing up, anyway. So, off I go.

Blogging. And Candy.

It's almost a cliche that when a blogger doesn't know what to write about, he or she will write about blogging. Well, that's not really what this post is, but it kind of is.

When I woke up this morning, I had this feeling that the bottom has fallen out of blogging, but then I thought, "No, perhaps it's just me."

When I started this, about 27 months ago, I was writing a lot. Writing often, that is, albeit often short entries, and these tended to be based on news stories.

Lots of other folks seemed to have started at about the same time. I won't link cos I'm lazy, but you all know who they are: Cappy, Four Dinners, Candy, Steve Dullard, The English Ranter. These few peeps seemed to be my first contacts in blogland, and it was great.

Over the two years that have passed, Cappy and 4D have reinvented themselves a couple of times; Steve disappeared, reappeared and disappeared again; and the English Ranter slowly wound down. I've slowed my pace and have sometimes wondered whether I can be arsed to continue.

But Candy stayed strong, educating us with both high-brow and low-brow posts, mixing pop and politics and everything in between.

Until now.

Although I've never met her, she's one of the best friends I've made on the blog circuit, and I've had some great mails and blog exchanges with her, not to mention that we send each other video care parcels on a regular basis, sharing some of the best of our respective countries' TV.

But The Gnostic World Of Candy Minx is now on hiatus. For how long, who knows? One thing is for certain: the world's a duller place without it.

Let's hope it's not dead and just sleeping. Thanks Candy.

Confession

Readers, forgive me. It's been ten whole days since my last post.

Truth is, in that time I've done almost nothing but work. I don't even think I've watched any films.

I've not really got much to say.

We're holding on to a little hope that we may get some tickets for the Maxïmo Park gig next Wednesday. I'm still in two minds about us going to another Gallows show on Monday. I have shitloads of work to do, so I'll get back to it.

Sorry I haven't been getting round to any of your blogs either. When I'm busy, I'm busy. Even the weekend I worked till 7pm both nights, so it's not huge fun.

Anyways, it's 7am and I'm gonna go and start my 12-hour day. Wish me luck...

Post #792, wherein I pimp myself

I'm sure you're all gagging to read my answers to some questions put to me by fellow blogger Captain Karen, so click here or on the picture of the HMS Swiftsure on the right to check out the interview.

But don't forget to vote for nephew Liam again, too. Click the pic in the post below to take you to the place to go. (Ha, that rhymes! Yes, I'm an idiot.)

Oops, where did the time go?

We missed it... It was my second blogiversary on Tuesday 11 March. Oh well. Happy blogiversary to me, then, belated.

Thanks for being here, reading, commenting, sending rad gifts once in a while. It's been cool so far. Here's to the next one!

And if you've never left a comment before, why not break your silence now, just so I know you're out there. Cheers to you all.

I write about things I know nothing about

Sometimes, as I'm sure many have noticed, I write about things I know nothing about. I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with that. Sometimes it means I'm wrong; sometimes I'm right. And sometimes there is no relevant right or wrong; rather, there is just an opinion.

I don't know quite where yesterday's post fits into those categories. I have never been to Africa. I have no plans to visit any African nation. While it is in the sort of turmoil we see every day on the news (and have seen for years), that is not a continent I want to go to.

There is a conscious choice one makes when one writes. You choose whether to write something. And I chose to write something that I felt could come across as me being a bit fascist or a bit uncaring. But I want to reiterate that I am neither of those things. I am not anti-Africans (not that anyone said I am); but I am astonished at the terrible state of government over there. And the brutality of what should be normal citizens.

I enjoyed reading everyone's comments yesterday. Some I agreed with, some I didn't so much. I'm not convinced female genial mutilation (FGM) has anything to do with Christianity; I've never heard this before. I'm not saying it's incorrect; I've just never heard anyone make a direct relationship between the two, and I've happened to read quite a few articles on FGM for work reasons.

Also, I fear Four Dinners is right. Or maybe it's just that many of us (in the UK, at least) are fed up of "the Africa thing". We've had it rammed down our throats for a good few decades now. Maybe in the US it's not daily news; I believe the US is far less international in its news coverage. When you see these images and hear these stories, day in day out, for so long, you become immune to their message.

This is partly why the film The Devil Came on Horseback was so successful, I think, to me as a British viewer. It showed me the sort of things that I kind of knew but had never seen. It re-opened my eyes. And not just to the horrors of the situation, but also to the futility of trying to help. As much as the people in the villages need our intervention, and as much as it's probably the socially correct thing to intervene, we kowtow to African leaders who say they don't want us there.

When you were in the playground and your friend was being bullied, did you ask the bully, "Excuse me, do you mind if I fuck you up, for that is my friend you are hitting?" And then he would say, "Yes, I do mind," and you'd go, "Okay," and walk away?

No. Instead you would charge in there, fists and feet a-flyin', and Bruce Lee that motherfucker to the ground. That is what we should do in Africa, if we feel we should do anything. You can't fucking ask permission.

We went into Iraq for reasons far less worthy than this. Saddam Hussein, dictator though he was, had his country running peacefully. It's an odd thing to say, perhaps. Yes, he had committed and sanctioned atrocities, but he was not currently doing so. That doesn't make him a stand-up guy, granted. But if you're going to take a stand against human-rights abuses, you surely have to do it while those abuses are in progress. It's absurd to go in after the fact... after millions have been slaughtered...

Like I say, sometimes I write about things I know nothing about.

Stuff on my mind

Last night, I watched a documentary on Darfur, Sudan: The Devil Came on Horseback, about a young ex-marine who went to "monitor" and photograph the as-yet-unofficial genocide. I think this film contained probably the most brutal images of human suffering and the depravity of man that I've ever seen. Certainly on TV.

For those of you who have seen films like Hotel Rwanda and Shooting Dogs, the staged images in those films were quite horrible, as I'm sure you remember. But seeing genuine photos of similar crimes is really quite shocking. It's even more shocking, of course, that these photos were taken years after the Rwanda crisis. And now, while Darfur continues to suffer, it's all kicking off in Kenya, too: neighbours and friends macheteing each other to death because of different tribal lines.

I'm gonna come out and say it. Africa is a fucking hellhole. That's not to say I don't feel for the victims of these crimes. Of course I do. What's happening or has happened in the territories named above (among others) is shocking and appalling. But clearly there is something wrong in Africa. Every few years the most minor of supposed political disagreements causes people to grab the nearest axe and start smashing babies' skulls in. Give me a fucking break.

I don't know what we need there. Some would say wipe out the whole fucking continent. Some would suggest we need a dictator; maybe some countries just do need a dictator to keep the scum in order. Some would say let them sort out their own shitstorm. But they are incapable of doing so, as we have seen time and again.

The problem is pan-African. That's the incredible thing. We're not talking the odd country here and there. Even Kenya, now -- long seen as the most stable of African nations -- is a fucking disaster area. And South Africa, the great Rainbow Nation success story: a woman is raped there every 27 seconds. Is this normal? Is this acceptable?

But what the fuck can we do...?

-----------------

In other news, it's great to see that George Bush, in his State of the Union speech, has said that when it comes to climate change (aka global warming) every country should do their bit to cut the emission of greenhouse gases and that no country should have a free ride. Um, isn't that what everyone was telling you, Mr Bush, regarding the Kyoto Agreement.

That man is such a cunt, it's astonishing! And now, what? Everyone is supposed to think he's the great forward-thinking world leader? This man has denied the existence of climate change for the past seven years, and now suddenly he's saying no country should get a free ride? The balls on this guy!

------------

And finally, who was my 40,000th visitor? Well, technically, 40,001st, since number 40,000 was a hit via a lyric search on Google. It was Candy Minx, and then she headed off to my movie reviews page via the little logo on the sidebar. Big Brother is watching, right?

Guitar Hero III update

So a milestone was hit last night in my Guitar Hero playing. Finally, finally I achieved five stars on "Through the Fire and Flames", admittedly on Easy. And I got 100% on "Story of My Life". So that'll be two milestones then.

Also got another couple of 100% hits the other night, on "In the Belly of a Shark" and "My Curse" (all on Easy).

I am making inroads into Medium, reasonably good ones actually, but I just can't win the battle on that level against Lou, playing "The Devil Went Down to Georgia". Man, that's a tough one.

Sure, I'm blowing my own trumpet a bit, and sure, there are many people who won't know or care what the hell I'm on about here, but I thought I'd share nonetheless. It's a tough blogging day or me, so speediness was my prime objective. Have a great weekend, everyone.

Hey there!

So, I'm back from Christmas in Italy but I'm mad tied up trying to get some work done right now, helping out the missus, cos I have no work of my own. (Of course, all our work is our work really, but you catch my drift. Well, maybe you don't...)

Anyway, I hope you all had rad and rockin' Christmases, and I'll be trying to get round all your blogs in the next day or two.

Things I'll be posting about include:
Rudy, the fun-lovin' big bro;
Zaccaria, the even more fun-lovin' and allergy-inducin' fluffy little bro;
Guitar Hero (with video footage!);
and Petronilla, the 14th dinner guest.

Oh, it's all happenin', kidz! So let's catch up real soon. Laters!

Miss Milla, nooo! We will not let you go!

So, Saturday was the big day. The day of the MIRL between me and Red, and Milla and Zorro. We threw caution to the wind when arranging our meet, and it was decided to get together not in public or on neutral ground; rather, the venue was Milla's house, which is about 42 miles (67 km) away from us. It's funny, when we lived in London, it would take us about 75 minutes to drive 12 miles across London to see friends. These days we can do 42 miles in less than an hour when traffic conditions are favourable.

We arrived at 1.15pm to be greeted by Milla walking down her front path towards us. We met at the gate. The two girls kissed and hugged hello. Then I, too, had my turn. Red and Zorro kissed hello; he and I shook hands in a manly fashion. We entered their home and went straight through into the back garden.

It was a glorious day. You could even say it was a touch too glorious: although we stood and sat in it chatting and drinking for a while, when it came to sitting down to eat, we moved to the shade. I felt bad for Zorro, who loves being in the sun, but it was just too hot for the rest of us. It was hot for Pisko the cat, too, who spent much of the time trying to cool his belly in the shade.

Milla had cooked lasagne, and Zorro barbecued a trout for each of us. With the salads and giant mushrooms and the rest of the food, there was enough for a truly long and sociable lunch. Everything was delicious, but I can't remember the last time I ate so much! There were even two tiramisus: one that we brought with us and one that Milla made!


Don't you just hate self-timer pictures?
Someone always gets cut out of the shot...

We ate and drank and chatted. We talked about work and tattoos and chavs and blogs and travel and home and family and cats and how we met our partners -- essentially, all the most important things in life. And the next thing we knew it was 8pm. Where had the day gone? We chatted some more, but knew that the evening would soon have to come to an end. About 9pm we headed to the front door for the 10-minute goodbyes. It's nice when goodbyes take a wee while; it's like you're delaying the inevitable.

It was a great day we had for our first MIRL. Within minutes we were comfortable with each other, which came as no real surprise. What was a surprise, though, was the fact that we have mutual friends/acquaintances. Milla and Zorro know some photographers that I used to work with quite regularly a few years back. That was bizarre. London is a big city, and yet it's a small world, right?

One of the strangest things was what to call one another. I think everyone was called at least two names and possibly three in some cases. When you get accustomed to someone being a certain name, it can be strange to have to change that thought process!

Thanks, guys, for a great day. Here's to the next time! I keep thinking of other things that I should add to this post. I feel like there's so much to say. But I have to stop somewhere, right. So I'll stop here. Now. End. Fin.

Hmmm...

Inspirationless.
As dry as a nun's cunt, as they say. (Is that blasphemous?)
Hopefully something will come to me soon.
Meantime, I guess I'll write some movie reviews (such as they are).

What’s it all about?

Of course, you and I, dear reader, know full well that A Blog About Nowt is about nowt, but Technorati isn't quite as clever as us. This is what that most "useful" of bloggers' "resources" has to say:


Admittedly some of my favourite things appear on that list, but I still can't shake the feeling that it's missing the point somewhat. Oh well, such is life...

It’s one of those things, innit?

Facebook, I mean.

Those of us who do this blogging thing seem to have a compulsion to find out about and join other Web-based thingamajigs. Those of us who grew up in an era when people had real, flesh-and-blood friends who they'd meet up with once in a while might not fully understand what all these things are for.

Facebook, MySpace, BeBo, and whatever the fuck else is out there for "social networking". I read a few months ago about one social-networking site aimed specifically at black people, and that it is devised as neighbourhoods that you aspire to or something. I forget the name now. Oh hold up, it might be The Block. Something like that, anyways.

I have a Facebook account, just as I have a YouTube account, two MySpace accounts, and several blogs. But I don't know many people on Facebook. I've been there a few weeks, but no one I know in real life has one. And my Facebook account is in my real name. I know Cappy is on there, and Shea and Adam and Martha. And Will and James K.

So... do I hook up with peeps who I know only in blogland? Or do I set up yet another online thingy with my nom de plume? Oh, I just don't know anymore. It's complicated having all these personae. I feel like a superhero. Without the super powers, obviously.

Stuff and stuff

Sunday: Worked all day, but found time to do a little post about shaking my spear, below.

Monday: Worked all day, despite it being a holiday in the UK.

Tuesday: Worked until lunchtime, then headed out to the tattooist for some recolouring on a tattoo that I never got finished. It's two years since it last had any work done on it. Now I think it's finished. Though I can't help but feel it still needs a little sumpn sumpn.

Wednesday: Worked all day and got mad pissed off with some people we're working for. What is with people? I know not all people are cunts, but sometimes... sometimes it sure seems that all people I have to deal with are. I also found time to update Such As They Are for the first time in a month. I made a silent promise to post a new movie review over there at least once a week. And Lord knows I have a backlog to wade through.

Thursday: Started the day, as we do most days at the moment eating breakfast while watching an episode of Seinfeld, the show about nowt after which this blog was named. We've been working our way through the DVDs while waiting for Season 5 of Scrubs to get released. Then we headed out to Asda to do most of our weekly grocery shopping. We couldn't find the tofu. I knew it was a mistake but I thought I'd ask a member of staff.

"Excuse me, do you know where I'd find tofu?"
"Uh, find what?"
"Tofu."
"Toad food?"
"No, tofu."
"What is it?"
"It's ... [I tell myself not to mention beancurd or allude to anything 'foreign'...] It's a meat substitute for vegetarians."
"Oh, then it's probably in the meat aisle."
"I don't know," I say. "You carry other products by Cauldron, and they produce tofu. So I thought it might be in the freezer section."
"Oh... I'd better find someone who'll know. Come with me."

I follow her. She talks to another staff member. She too looks confused by the word tofu. I suggest that it could be in the chilled section, rather than frozen.

"Let's have a look there, then," says the second woman, and we walk towards that section. "It's not something I've been asked for before."

We stand there looking at the shelves. My eyes alight on the Holy Grail. I reach for the tofu. "Here it is!" I exclaim gleefully. "I'd better check the sell-by date, since no one knows you sell it!" It's all good. "You'll know where it is now next time someone asks," I suggest. Fortunately they don't kill me. You never know in this neck of the woods. And Asda.

“My inspiration has run dry”

Venice: Unlike me, not dry.

What better title for a post than a Natalie Imbruglia lyric? That's right, folks, nothing is right, I am, y'know, torn and shit. Yup, I’m as dry as a nun's cunt, as we used to say back in my old hometown.

The reason for this desert-like state of bloggy being is, as it always is with me, a valanga of work. (That's your Italian lesson of the day. Valanga [literally "avalanche"] is used to mean "shitload".)

Saturday morning I started working at 6am and I finished at 8pm. In between, any breaks I had were used to eat lunch, go food shopping and to the post office, and start clearing out the kitchen.

Sunday I started work at about 8:30am, having had a bit of lie-in, and I finished at 6pm so that I could do some more work clearing the kitchen and have my dinner. I then went back to work at 11:25pm for an hour.

What's with all the kitchen clearing? Well, this week is the week we are having our new kitchen fitted. Everything is changing (except the cooker and washing machine, and I think we are beginning to regret that we didn't decide on new ones of those, too).

So for most of this week we will be without a cooker, oven, and hob, and we also won't have a kitchen sink. Red spent much of her "free time" at the weekend preparing some delicious Italian dishes that we can throw in the microwave, rather than resorting to takeaways every night.

Yes, a fun weekend was had by all. We're into equal-opportunity misery in this household. Even Cat gets a piece of the action. He has been put in a cattery for the week (we call it a spa retreat when he's nearby). This is because the last time we had workmen in (for the bathroom a couple of years ago), he got so freaked out that he legged it out through the back door and we never saw him for hours. When he finally returned he was very quiet. And at about 11pm we realized that he had cut open almost the entire length of the lower part of one of his back legs. Midnight trip to the vet. Severed the ligaments. Hit or miss whether he'd ever be able to use it again. But Doctor Jim was a fucking total genius and you'd never know now from pictures like this the extent of the original wound. We don't want to go through that shit again.

Right, it's 9am. I'd best get to work. I hope to get round to some of my blogpals and check out what y'all have been writing in recent days. Toodle-oo.

Bye, Sky, bye

Oh, woe is me. And woe is the missus, too.

We woke up this morning to learn something of what it must be like to be Milla.

Yes, that's right, folks: the television-less one and we have that adjective in common. Kind of.

Our satellite receiver is dead, kaputt, extinct, no more, resting in peace, an ex-satellite receiver. It's beamed its last broadcast into our humble abode. And we are left ... having to talk to one another.

Keen viewers of this page will know that we mostly like to carry out our communications via blog comment boxes and the occasional IM session. But now we have to do what people used to do in the BC days (Before Computer). I'd forgotten what this lump of flabby stuff in my mouth was for and was wondering whether it was only used for far less bloggable pursuits. Get your mind out of the gutter: I meant licking envelopes. Jesus wept!

Fortunately, it wasn't long before we remembered... We can always watch DVDs. Phew. Thank the maker!

Haikus. Come and get ’em

If you dig haiku,
you really ought to check out
this blog. I like it.

Post #600, wherein I will undoubtedly navel-gaze a little and blather on about stuff I’m ill equipped to discuss on any meaningful level

It's the first day of spring. Happy spring to you all! (Thanks to Red for the lovely photo.)

And so it came to pass, my 600th post. It's taken a little longer than I had hoped, but you just can't rush these things. Well, you can, obviously. I've rushed many of the previous 599 posts at this blog. In fact, about 591 of them have been rushed. I did take my time over those three posts on cinema, though, and those few building up to my 500th.

Not only have I rushed almost 600 posts here, I've also rushed many of my posts on my other blogs. What a guy! So, there you have it: you can rush these things. Super!

So, 375 days and 600 posts. And not only that, but I've also watched more than 100 movies in that time, 99 of which I have reviewed; they can be found over at my movie-review site Such As They Are.

Anyway, I have a tendency to anticipate these "landmark" posts far too long in advance, and they become like an albatross. This is especially true when I haven't actually prepared anything in advance.

And it's not that I'm talking about having to "entertain my readers" or anything quite so "delusions of grandeur"-ish as that. It's all to do with my borderline OCD, a-place-for-everything-and-everything-in-its-place mentality.

We have lightswitches in our house, you see. Much like you do, I suspect. The room in which I am typing this is upstairs. From my desk, without leaving my seat, I can turn on the lights in the room. But I don't like to do it once I'm up here. Why? Because it means the switch for the same lights at the foot of the stairs looks as though it's in the off position, when in my mind it should look as though it's in the on position.

Likewise, at the top and bottom of our other flight of stairs we have double switches: one for the light at the top and one for the light at the bottom. I like it when both are in sync with one another. I don't like when they are in alternate positions. Do you catch my drift, get what I'm saying, see where I'm coming from?

Yes, I alphabetize my CDs and DVDs, too. Who doesn't?

So, getting back to what I was saying. This symmetry, if you like, this "commemoration" of "event" posts is more to do with me wanting the 500th, 600th, 750th posts to be something that I'll consider worthwhile of my time.

But...

By overthinking them I will often end up with an outpouring of nonsense fit for consumption by neither man nor beast.

Furthermore, I actually don't have much to write about today. Well, that's not strictly true. There are several things that have got my goat over the past 24 hours and upon which I would gladly wax unlyrical, but these subjects are all downers, and I don't want my 600th post to be a downer. Subjects like:

1. British schools can now ban students from wearing full-face veils. (Small print: if the veil is inhibiting learning or a threat to personal safety.) I mean, what the fuck does that mean?! The headline says one thing, but then the option is removed entirely by perfectly impossible clauses.

2. Number of fatal stabbings in the UK higher this year already than in the whole of last year.

3. German animal activist wants to kill polar bear. (Or, as I would call this story: "Knut und kunt".) Have you heard this? What a fucking tosser!

I mean, the world's going down the fucking pan.

So, no, I don't want to post on any of that stuff. I want to be upbeat, at least for today.

But the powers that be are conspiring against me at all sides.

4. Gordon Brown and his fucking Budget. You know it can't be good for anyone and it's going to be full of bullshit. But let's not dwell, shall we?

Instead, I'll get this post rounded off with something almost witty or pithy or amusing, then get back to my work and hopefully manage to pop in and read a good number of the blogs on my blogroll.

But I can't think of anything witty, pithy, or amusing. Bugger!

And to top things off, I was going to post a video clip from YouTube, but the fucking thing's been removed because of copyright infringement. As a creative type, I understand the need for copyright (oh, God, I've done this rant before), but so much stuff just languishes in copyright owners' vaults at TV centres around the globe... Share the fucking love, you cunts!

So, turns out I did navel-gaze a bit in this post, but I did less blathering about things I know nothing about than I had expected. That'll teach me not to put the title in before writing the post in future, won't it?

Working and Heroes and Idol, oh my!

I had to take a day off yesterday. Pretty poor start to Year 2, I know, but that anniversary post took it out of me.

Not much to report here. Busy. Worked flat out all day yesterday. Then came up for another hour after dinner and ANTM and Heroes.

I. Am. Fucking. Loving. Heroes. If you haven't started watching yet, you simply must ASAP. It's on the SciFi channel here in the UK, and it is one of the best serials I have seen on TV in a very long time.

Admittedly, I'm a sucker for tales of time travel and superpowers. This is mostly because I have superpowers and can travel in time, of course. But I realize that not everyone can, and that's why this show is so exciting. Last night's show (episode 5, "Hiros") actually gave me goosebumps in a couple of scenes. It was that good.

I will definitely, definitely be buying this show on DVD when it comes out. I only hope they can keep it up and don't let it outstay its welcome. The only problem with it is those fucking commercial breaks, man. There are four, and each one is quite long, which sucks.

What I really want to do each week is record the show and watch it later, skipping through the ads, but I literally can't because I'm too excited and want to watch the show as it airs. I guess I'm an instant-gratification kinda guy.

(While looking for a pic for this post, I was psyched when I found the one above cos it shows something I haven't yet seen but doesn't give away too much. I love Hiro; he's my favourite character. He's a rockin' motherfucker.)

Finally, and on another topic, I just want to apologize to Lee for taking so long with her contest prize. Things are moving along on that front, and you have not been forgotten. Bear with me, kiddo.

And finally, again, avid long-term readers may have noticed that there's not been much in the way of a running critique of this year's American Idol so far, despite my fondness for it last year. Sorry about that. (I know you all come here especially for AI news.) I'm a bit out of inspiration where AI is concerned this year. They mostly all seem a bit shit. What more can I say?