A Christmas Tale (+ bits and pieces)

Marianne in mail: '...You're a good person Rimone, a little hyper at times but then 8 year old boys can be like that...'

thank you for saying, sweet grrl. yup, you totally nailed me (ooo-er --- *slaps own wrist*). and i so appreciate the fact you took the time to include the 8-year old boy stuff mostly cause you know me so well *preens* and secondly, cause i've been accused (always by chicks) of putting on some kind of a wack act or something. i mean, get real, lay-deez: which adult woman in her right mind would ever liken herself to a liddle boy? well, apart from those of us who actually do and say so, thanks to their Asperger's. but anyway, Marianne, i know you're suffering from the horrid 'flu, and i hope you feel way better ASAP.

mail from me to Chris M: '...totally no pressure on getting back to me whenever you want. i mean, the thought of me standing on a chair with a noose shouldn't hurry you, why would it?...'.

Chris M: 'Then we would both be "well hung" ! Badda Bing ! I thank you, you've been a great crowd, please try the chicken...'

LOL, OK, moving out of the Gutter of Puns only to chase the bouncing ball of ADD, this next is Cabot Tower (can only be seen out my windows during Autumn or Winter):


i'm so totally proud: after 3,5 years of running out on the balcony with my camera-phone, hurrying cause the clouds were in a particuarly pretty color combination ('particularly pretty' meaning anything other than solid blue NYC skies), this is the best i've managed to do (Annie Leibovitz i'm not, though much to others' dismay, sometimes i think i am):


OK, Christine in mail: 'What's the point of doing anything if we're all going to die anyway?'

as you very well know, Chris, that's exactly the kinda tawk that truly upsets your brother Segs and that's the last thing i wanna do: sadden him. anyway, on saturday night, i used Chris' question as a jumping-off point (heh) to write an ill-conceived and rather suic- er, quite noir-ish post which was basically summed up by my constant companion, Despair (and my typical 'why bother?'):

'...apart from some being lucky enough to be born driven or wanting to share their talents with the world (and having the confidence to do so), thank you for saying, Christine. i've been searching my entire life for the damn point but it's continued to elude me to this very day.

'the last time i thought i found it happened when discovering online, fan-fuelled music promotion built on Open Source and Creative Commons basics, sprinkled liberally with a handful of the Smart Mobs ethos:

"A smart mob is a group that, contrary to the usual connotations of a mob, behaves intelligently or efficiently because of its exponentially increasing network links..."

'and then i came up with a shitload of my own ideas, adding to The Person Formally Known As Pet Man's. we knew they were exactly the kick in the ass to best spread the gospel of the Alabama 3, but then were shot down at the starting gate by their then-current management (but that's another story that, most likely, will never be told).

'anyway, i've had kindred spirits come and go, blithely bopping into and out of my life at the drop of a gramme of liquid acid, but as you know, i've finally met my match regarding dark, gloomy chicks: you (and thank the laudenum i've gotcha)...'


ADD tangent: whoa, just remembered Mark called me Glum Soddess and that was before we ever got talking and he finally learnt, up close and personal, just how verily glum i am. one might say i was grim, actually, and y'all wouldn't be far from the mark. uh, yes i know there's teh funny back there but even i wouldn't stoop that low, mmm-kaaay?

right, always lurking beneath the surface of my bright, shiney effervescent *snigger* exterior, i guess i am pretty damn grim, grim as in Grimone *ducks* and y'all already know whose bright idea that was. *sigh* in truth, i LOL'd upon first hearing but only after he looked all hopeful cause who am i to harsh anyone's buzz? *rolls eyes* but looking on the bright si-

wait, WTF? where the hell was i going with that? looking on the what? ROTFLMAO! hang on, i can't stop LOL... oh my. *snigger* whoa, OK, at least *giggle* i can laugh about it. *smirk* um, hee?


anyway, it's a damn relief knowing Christine's out there but it totally doesn't please me to know she feels the same as me cause i wouldn't wish my thinking ...


... and the ensuing depression on ANYone, especially those i truly love. fleeing from one of my way too many Danger Zones (let's call them), on monday i sent her this photo along with the burning question: what the hell happened?:


we still haven't come up with a satisfactory answer but in her reply she said 'great photo' and i felt a teeny tiny bit better. it didn't last long cause as i kept reading, i dissolved into even deeper anguish; she wrote the (to me) incredible 'Michael thought you look a bit like Mick Jagger... (that's a compliment)...'

Sweet Zombie Jesus! i'm actually too frightened to ask if he means the old (young) Jagger or the way he is now. uh... thank you for saying, Michael (i think). moving quickly away from yet another Danger Zone, over the weekend i was browsing through my many bookmarked LOL Kitteh sites (thanks, Babe). when i found this next, i just about died laughing cause it's so totally me all over:


in other news, this next in from the Department of The Unforgiveable: a few nights back i yet again made the wack mistake of confiding in Mark. i regretted it almost instantly but wasn't aware he'd take my liddle (hopefully amusing) confidence as a 'gift on a platter' to be exploited; to be used as a tool in his thus far successful efforts to entertain his online audience. unfortunately for me, i'm not tawkin' on his music, but his proclivity to get people laughing. at me. :-(

anyway, when he hinted about this upcoming fresh new hell and i demanded to know why i deserved such treatment, all i got in return was: 'You'll jes' have to wait. Ha Ha Ha, Mr Esoteric finally gets his revenge. REVENGE. REVENGE! *in a K-K-K-Ken voice* x'

so keeping in mind i do (almost) anything Freebase wants (and i ain't nobody's tool when i happily do), here's the latest chapter of A Cock And Bull Story, sorry, i mean, The Rock 'n' Rimone Show. this installment is a heartwarming fable called A Christmas Tale as told by Rock Freebase. the fact that i tell it quite another way --- how it actually happened --- shall be totally ignored for the purpose of adding levity, as well as giving yet another boost to Delta Slide Dude's way too-fragile ego:

'Once upon a time, in the wild wild east (NYC to be exact), there lived a little grrl; let's call her... Slumbelina. When she was, say, seven or eight years old, she'd watch a TV show starring a guy called Roy Rogers. You may remember him from such films as: King Of The Cowboys, The Yellow Rose Of Texas and Stop Chuckin' Those Bloody Tomahawks At Me.

'Anyway, she admired him so much, she decided to send a letter to the fella with the big white beard and red suit, asking for a cowgrrl outfit for Christmas. Sure enough, on Christmas day, there was the suit. And what a suit! It had everything: hat, waistcoat, deputy sheriff badge, holster, gun, chaparejos, even boots with spurs.

'The problem was, she didn't have a horse (Mr Rogers's horse was called Trigger by the way). As luck would have it, a kindly relative of hers had only gone and got her a pink toy pony, which was just the right size to gallop around on when Mr Rogers's show was on.

'Oh the adventures she and Roy had, she wasn't just his sidekick (that was a guy named Pat), she was his parrrdner. Some might say she had a bit of a crush on old Roy, personally, I wouldn't want to speculate; I'll leave that up to you good folks. Anyway, many years passed and sadly the pink pony just couldn't keep up anymore, but that ol' cowgrrl suit still has pride of place in her wardrobe. And do you know what...?

'It still fits.'

AAAARRRRRGGHHHHHH! Mark! i should've killed you last weekend when you were all hinty about going public. how many times do i have to say i was five, dammit? FIVE! and there wasn't a goddamned pony, EVuh. and what have i ever done that warrants your nonstop dissing of my size? as you very well know, this is something i totally can't help, something over which, to my lifelong dismay, i have absolutely no control. grrrrrr... |-(

anyway, comments start at prior link, right after the besmirching of my hitherto spotless past. some (mine, not his) might actually bring a smile to your face and light up the corners of your cold, cold heart (or other places where the sun don't shine).

Mr Soon To Be Living The Rest Of His Short-Ass Life in Agonising Pain: 'And here we have a photo of Slumbelina getting a nice, warm, pink blanket to wrap her pony in for the night... awwwwwwwww... sooooo cute.'


yup, yer eyes don't deceive you: she's holding a huge, pink, massively endowed rolled-up rug and i'm perfectly aware that says more about me than it does about her or anyone else. *rolls eyes* hmmpf... right, i've got news for you, Mark: for the outrage above as well as for each and every episode of last year's Rock 'n' Rimone Show, please remember: 'revenge is a dish best served cold.' i'm waiting to strike back and for once i'm patient, so i'll wait good. *chomp!*


note to Boudicca: i'm totally not gonna smear That Meddling Bitch on this here site, mainly cause i don't want her contaminating whatever good vibes might be left (if any). but please keep sending your hilarious commentary cause one of these days, i'll grow the stones to actually copy, paste and then hit 'publish'. LOL, keep 'em comin', grrl, and feel better soon. :-)

the sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new...

that's Samuel Beckett (one of the heroes listed on my real site and we'll get to him in a while but shit, i wish i wrote that. the thing of it is, i know it'll never happen and that was a cheap effort to embiggen myself by even saying, but that's me all over. *snigger* however, i've actually been doing a lot of writing lately (the usual essays and poetic attempts); it really means nothing and i do it for the sole pleasure of playing around with words cause i'm totally guilty of being a logophile, and at times, a philologist; always was and hopefully, always will be. anyway, i'm meaning late night writing, my favorite kind, that which comes out around midnight, especially when i'm ripped. well, it usually comes out around midnight but not tonight and i'll get to why in a little bit.

the writty about which i'm talking is the kind that'll never see the light of day, not if i have anything to say about it; not in this lifetime. it's all put down in one of my current notebooks, the ones i keep with all the journals (some going back decades). but since my real site went live like four years ago, for the first time i can remember, i haven't kept a journal at all cause this --- wherever i'm spewing my shite --- is my journal. :-)

the paper ones, along with my endless files, were all packed into the 80 boxes of books that moved from Brooklyn to Bonn and then finally here to Bristol. now the entire mess of meatspace writty is stuffed into one of my desk drawers here, the drawer that both Chris and Dave have first dibs on after i check out. there's actually a note on top of the confusion inside, a note with both Chris and Dave's contact info (signed and dated by me and witnessed by Marianne from Dublin) so that whomever finds me (or whichever authority gets here first after they drag my body outta the Thames --- LOL, kidding!) anyway, they'll know to whom the contents of that drawer go (apart from the mention in my Living Will). check the drawer --- it's like over a foot deep and two feet long and really heavy (i removed the note before i took the photo):


moving right along, my post title is the first line of Samuel Beckett's 'Murphy'. *big sigh* uhhhh, y'know how when y'all dig someone and you find out they like the same shit you do? and you feel like, closer to them and dare to dream s/he might be a kindred spirit? that's what happened when Jake rang me yesterday. we were just shooting the shit when one of us remembered that Techie-Boy very foolishly lauded my writing to him and Fran last weekend.

when he did, i thought i'd fucking die and i gave 'em all my back; rather, i began staring at the fire Fran made after i shot my usual STFU look to Chris (who pretended not to understand). anyway, Jake said he's been writing again, which i think is great, especially since i am as well and told him so. *preens* then somehow, we began talking Samuel Beckett and it came out we were both reading some of the same stuff at the same very early age and i felt the glimmerings of like, kindred spirit-y recognition.

BTW, over the years, i got chastised by my asshole teachers for reading above my grade level; i mean, WTF and WHY? one might assume they'd be all happy cause of things like the upcoming SATs, but noooo. like, i was bringing Nabokov, Beckett and Camus into school, solely for between-classes and lunchtime escapist reading but i certainly wasn't about to write the mandatory weekly book reports on them. i mean, by that time, i knew better than to even think of doing anything as wack as that.

when the school principal rang my mother and invited her to visit his office (cause my reading matter caused 'a disturbance', one that seemed only to bother my homeroom and English teachers as well as the school psychologist), i got the message loud and clear: i was supposed to be reading things like the Nancy Drew series or whatever, books i breezed through when i was like five. anyway, after my mother's little visit to the damn principal, i stuck to Alice in Wonderland and Catcher In The Rye (which were looked upon as only slightly better in my teachers' way suppressive POV). oh, and from then on in, i had weekly appointments with the school psychologist to talk about my choice of reading matter (another story for another time). }-(

hmmpf... i had a point somewhere. anyway, Jake tells me to go to the libe for Beckett and i'm all really pleased as i went 'no dude, i don't have to go out --- i've got 'em all here'. LOL, *preens* and then we discussed Endgame for a bit and other Beckett books and stuff but my mind was off and wandering; i'd suddenly remembered how way back when, i'd asked my dad to buy theatre tickets for us all to see Krapp's Last Tape so far off-off Broadway, it was down in the Village. and how my parents just didn't get it (in all truth, neither did i, but i'd read the damn play and idolised the man and i just wanted to see how it all came together onstage).

by the time i snapped out of my little reverie and caught up with Jake's side of the convo, we were saying goodbye and after that, i went into the bedroom (where most of the fiction is) and searched for awhile until i found Murphy. and then i sat down to read my ass off while the sun set, unnoticed for once, and dinner time came and went (still haven't eaten, actually). my point, and i did have one when i began, is that after we got off the phone, i felt really pleased and a bit more closer to Jake (and for once i'm not preening like a proudtard, cause i'm really proud about this). LOL, yup, we all know the drill: 'it doesn't take much'. *snigger*

when i finally came up for air and realised it was getting late, i went to Wikipedia to remind myself of what i used to know about Beckett. in a nutshell, this is what so entranced me as a kid:

'...Beckett's work is stark, fundamentally minimalist, and, according to some interpretations, deeply pessimistic about the human condition...'

fuckin-A! 'a kindred spirit', i'd have thought, if i'd known that term way back when. more:

'...The perceived pessimism in Beckett's work is mitigated both by a great and often wicked sense of humour, and by the sense, for some readers, that Beckett's portrayal of life's obstacles serves to demonstrate that the journey, while difficult, is ultimately worth the effort...'

nah, gimme a break, please --- i so totally disagree with that happy shiney pret-ty glitzy stuff. but the wiki goes on and thankfully morphs into that with which i totally agree:

'...many posit that Beckett's expressed "pessimism" is not so much for the human condition but for that of an established cultural and societal structure which imposes a stultifying will upon otherwise hopeful individuals; it is the inherent optimism of the human condition, therefore, that is at tension with the oppressive world. Peter Brook says in The Empty Space that if you believe that Beckett is pessimistic, then you are a Beckett character trapped in a Beckett play; Beckett was not saying "No" because he wanted to but because he was searching for the "Yes"...'

thank you kindly for saying, dude. *to self* woo-hooo! i'm trapped in a Beckett play! (well, i might as well be for all the good i'm doing out here). moving incredibly swiftly along and away from baring my soul even more, i ended up finishing Murphy and dove into The Unnamable, and that's all i'm gonna say about that for now (apart from praying i fucking remember what the hell i read tonight, remember for longer than a day or so).

anyway, after resurfacing from Beckett, i was all set for writing and stuff when i decided to change my profile and ended up hassling with the damn template of this thing they call a 'blog' here. this was due to the fact that last night i discovered they only permit like 1200 characters in the section i renamed 'about the godless', a bit that so stupidly remains titled 'about me' on my profile page. long story short: i went to town, so to speak, and if anyone cares to look, i totally did it my way (with helpful explanations and all). but lo and behold --- it's now nearly 04,30 thursday morning and i still haven't had dinner, so this'll have to be continued some other time... maybe. *snigger* right, last week Mark said he had a feeling something terrible was gonna happen. the strange thing is, right now, i do as well and i totally can't pin down the reason why. this troubles me muchly, but hey... so do a lot of other things i'm powerless to rectify so since it's almost 06,00 thursday, i'm just gonna crash now and try to forget my most probably needless yet growing anxiety.

ps, happy birthday yesterday, Babe. i love you muchly and shall see you ASAP. :-)

moronacy --- i haz it (the D Wayne edition)

after i hit London on friday, and cause of my typical assbackwards moronacy, i saw there was no way i'd reach Brixton alone (naturally due to circumstances beyond my control). :-) so somehow i ended up barging in on none other than the Very Reverend D Wayne Love who, after hearing the desperation in my tone, kindly invited me over to his. then he gave me easy-peasy directions, directions any asshat could follow. my kewl prevented me from asking him to dumb 'em down just a teeny bit more, so thanks to that little um, foible of mine, my fuckwittery reached monumental proportions when i got off the Tube at the wrong station. then i hadda bite the bullet and ring him again, humiliating!


oh wow, look over there --- it's a MOR Tour photo. :-) y'know, i'm still not used to the vanilla ice cream suits; IMO they're totally unA3 and if they're supposed to be ironic, well, hit me with a sledgehammer the size of a Ferris Wheel. but vanilla suits or not, like, um... *simpering at Mark and Jake onscreen* shit, said the quiet bit out loud again. fuck it. now, where was i? right, Jake.

when he finally realised what a dumbass i am, he actually left the comfort of his crib and stood in the middle of the goddamned street, in the cold and freezing rain, all the while guiding me along with hand signals (!?!) and shit, and shouting my name.

i was LMAO till an awful thought arose unbidden: any street cred garnered over the last seven years had plummetted through the subbest of basements and would forevermore be non-existent in his very eyes. i won't further discuss the ensuing humiliation in front of one of my fave Alabama 3 dudes but i cling to the hope this is one of those more and more frequently increasing times my shite memory quickly serves me well when it teams up with my old friend, Denial, and i remember nothing. senility anyone?

moving incredibly swiftly along, i think he'd been watching Richard III or one of those other classic Olivier flicks but to cover my embarrassment, i began talking him to death, totally ruining his viewing pleasure (and i only had to shout 'say it in American!' like once or maybe twice). um...i torry, Jake. anyway, like the gentleman he is, he pretended nothing was wrong but couldn't hide the relief on his face when Sister Francesca finally came home and made a fire.


and then i talked her to death until Chris showed up, ostensibly to remove me but somehow we found ourselves actually leaving a bit after 05,00 saturday morning. so like, y'know, it's all Chris' fault we overstayed our welcome. well, 'welcome' isn't the proper word but i don't wanna go there now. right, notice me not mention the Grateful Dead. *snigger*

moving very swiftly along, big thanks to Jake and Fran for hospitality. it won't happen again, dudes, i totally promise. no, wait. um... to be honest, i'll do my utmost to entertain youse if it ever happens again instead of the other way round, ok? shit, i'm digging myself an even deeper hole here, so let's quickly um... oh wow! is that the time? *to self* christ on a crutch, i fear what the rest of sunday may bring. LOL, poor Chris!

too sick 2 post (i cn haz mercy killng?)

ibe bid ill agaid, for days since before i left for Brixton last weekend. speaking of Brixton, if i never hear Alabama 3 Electronique again, i'll be a happy grrl and thank fuckity fuck Angie agrees with me --- and then we told Jonathan, hah! oops, said the quiet bit out loud, again. forget y'all read the bit about Jonathan cause i don't think he was totally prepped to hear that tone in our voices. um, never mind.

anyway, Larry, what were you thinking? rather, i mean, Rob --- you da man an' i guess i'm just too thick to have gotten it. i mean, it wasn't like the place wasn't overpacked with wellwishers wanting to welcome y'all back from Australia, y'know? welcome the Acoustics back? well, at least the two here and not in Malaysia? but hey, what do i know?

i think i spent like ten minutes in the overpacked back room at Jamm before i left my friends inside and fled to the bar where some dude plied me with (more) chemicals and vodka, which seemed a good idea at the time.

moving very swiftly along and back to me and my usual rimoaning, if this is what it means to be old, with the almost constant headcolds, sneezing, coughing, puking my guts out and terrible enervation; an enfeeblement of the highest order, so wack that i couldn't even drag my ass to my Mac all week, i'm checking out ASAP. anyway, today i feel totally stronger so at the moment i have no compunction in demonstrating my way despondent thinking tempered with the usual suicidal ideation.






thanks for the phonecalls, emails and txts from Chris, Jake, Angie, Stevie, Pam and Mark (the fact that wasn't an original pissed me off muchly dude), most of whose gist of which was:


to which, before i told 'em all to fuck off, i went:


and then i ran off to puke for the umpteenth time. anyway, i'm off to Brixton again tomorrow to suffer more abuse from most of the aforementioned people in a most likely futile attempt to feel a bit better. i shall try to make it to Stevie's birthday bash but might not have the strength actually. moving right along, here's a note to Jake in regards to our phonecall today: DUDE! I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE! :-)

[nb: some of the above stoled offa LOL Secretz, mah noo fave site.]

they're back!

wheeeee! LOL, what a way to wake up. :-) i was revved up before, just thinking about the first Outlaw in ages, but now i'm truly stoked about friday night. here's the latest of Avengin' Angel's totally fabaroo flyers (thanks, Angie):


Rob must've been in a really good mood cause i heard that indisputable, incredibly sexy Voice of Love in the background, right before Mark's 'Larry says "hello"...' i went 'tell him, "hey, dude"...' and he did.

Q: why the lack of enthusiasm? A: far be it for me to actually show any positive emotion in front of Larry, to whom i attempt to display a cool, calm and collected vibe (at all costs, especially when i'm bursting with pent-up spoing). in all truth, i do this in order to keep any street cred i've somehow managed to accrue. then again, Rob's a different story cause i have no problem slipping into demented groupie mode in front of him. yes, i'm wack: i know it, they know it and AFAIC, i totally don't care. right, one more thing, the icing on the cake: Mark mentioned another new tune he's gonna send so i'm like really spoinging my head off now. :-)

here's the unplugged flavor of Alabama 3 taken somewhere in Australia (stolen from the band's official site):


i knew i'd be pleased but didn't dare think i'd be flying THIS high knowing they're home. LOL, all together now, 1-2-3: 'it doesn't take much!'. anyway, this 'happy in the morning' stuff is like being in a wondrous foreign country for the very first time. but reality just intruded its ugly head to totally remind me it won't last long. but for NOW? *happy grrl dancing* :-)

and the fallout continues (future of music edition)

yup, along with the *cough, cough, choke, hack, cough* thass me, but i decided to use my staying-home time constructively today, so i reread that which Dave posted way back when: The Demise of Oink And the Fallout Continues. much to my dismay, nobody picked up on it. anyhoo, here's Dave:

'I am sure that most of you have become aware of this in the last week or two following the extensive coverage. I was a member of this site and it was responsible for me buying a number of CD releases and going to quite a few gigs.

'Here is an excellent article which describes almost perfectly how the "Music Industry" has got it wrong and how the future could be so much better. Of particular interest to me (and I hope this forum) was:

"...So what can you and I do to help usher in the brave new world? The beauty of Oink was how fans willingly and hyper-efficiently took on distribution roles that traditionally have cost labels millions of dollars. Music lovers have shown that they're much more willing to put time and effort into music than they are money. It's time to show artists that there's no limit to what an energized online fanbase can accomplish, and all they'll ever ask for in return is more music. And it's time to show the labels that they missed a huge opportunity by not embracing these opportunities when they had the chance"...'

please check entire piece: When Pigs Fly: The Death of Oink, the Birth of Dissent, and a Brief History of Record Industry Suicide. apart from that which Dave selected above, i really dig this bit:

'There seem to be a lot of reasons why the record companies blew it. One is that they're really not very smart. They know how to do one thing, which is sell records in a traditional retail environment. From personal experience I can tell you that the big labels are beyond clueless in the digital world --- their ideas are out-dated, their methods make no sense, and every decision is hampered by miles and miles of legal tape, copyright restrictions, and corporate interests.

'Trying to innovate with a major label is like trying to teach your Grandmother how to play Halo 3: frustrating and ultimately futile. The easiest example of this is how much of a fight it's been to get record companies to sell MP3s DRM-free. You're trying to explain a new technology to an old guy who made his fortune in the hair metal days. You're trying to tell him that when someone buys a CD, it has no DRM --- people can encode it into their computer as DRM-free MP3s within seconds, and send it to all their friends. So why insult the consumer by making them pay the same price for copy-protected MP3s? It doesn't make any sense! It just frustrates people and drives them to piracy!...'


'They don't get it: "It's an MP3, you have to protect it or they'll copy it." But they can do the same thing with the CDs you already sell!! Legal tape and lots of corporate bullshit. If these people weren't the ones who owned the music, it'd all be over already, and we'd be enjoying the real future of music. Because like with any new industry, it's not the people from the previous generation who are going to step in and be the innovators. It's a new batch...'

if you're into music (and if you're not, you're dead IMO), please take the time to read the entire article and form your own opinions. another Dave made a cogent comment, beginning by pulling this quote from the piece:

"...you believe copyright laws no longer reflect the interests of the people."

Dave: 'Copyright laws have _never_ been about the interests of the people, of consumers. They've only ever been about the interests of copyright owners, which was fine when copyright owners were people too, but for a long time now copyright owners have overwhelmingly been corporations. There's your problem, right there. The rights of corporations over the rights of individuals.

'Same --- but worse --- with patents, incidentally. Why shouldn't I be able to get a generic form of a life-saving drug at a price I can actually afford? Because the big pharmaceutical corporation wants my money, not my life'.

one mo' time: please take the time to read, not only the dude's very suasive post, but the enlightening comments below (yup, alla them) and thanks for the heads-up, Dave. right now, this isn't me, but nearly:

today i have...

i'd be posting this over here but haven't yet asked for permission to share, so i figure (most likely wrongly) that this's the safest place to spew:

last night, after hours upon weary, mind-numbing hours spent sending instructions via txt to Australia, teeny how-tos on dragging, dropping, uploading and such...


...all including gentle prods of hurry uppity (e.g., 'waiting like Patience on a monument, heah'), until Delta Slide Dumbass finally got his head round the entire Mac concept (yay, joy!) and sent me new music (double joy!). but after a few false alarms (and tech-help grudgingly provided by Dave to me and Chris to Oz), i gave up trying to open the damn file and ultimately told him to forget it, then crashed. boo, despair! :-(

a few minutes later, i was rudely awakened by a txt requesting some asinine favor Hisself wanted, something which (if i deigned to do it) would involve me getting dressed (!) and going out (!!) into daylight (!!!) in reality (!?!) in the cold (!!!11!!). get a clue, Freebase: this is so not me:


it's totally not my fault you're outta phone credit, dude; i'm not the one who sends two-word txts at 99p a pop ('COCK OFF!'), txts expected to cheer up miserable old punky grrls when they're depressed (i.e., always). now i betcha you rilly, rilly regret the oh-so-smarmy 'Awww, c'mon ickle, titchy, tiny, swummy' you gleefully sent the other day, after i complained about this, O 6-Foot, 2-inch (6'3"? who cares?) High & Mighty One. *snigger*

DO I LOOK LIKE YOUR ERRAND BOY? oh...wait. uhh, never mind. um, ha?

moving incredibly swiftly along and thanks to a last minute brainstorm, one which spurred me to drag my ass outta bed yet again last night, today i have a lovely new tune which i'd been assured was not only gonna be 'an Alabama 3 classic', but was 'a fuckin' absolute killer', topped off by 'you will wet yourself...'

riiiiiight. a few hours back, i reluctantly told Freebase my honest opinion (it's shit) and then backpedalled by admitting i was trying to practise my Brit-winding skillz, but now he's totally not answering my txts, mails or phonecalls to the landline from which he so stupidly rang my cell today. oh, well... no biggie. :-( i mean, *snigger*

but i really felt sorry for him, so in a feeble effort to make it appear like i dig the tune, this morning i sent: 'c'mon, i'm waiting here for the lyrics and you already know i don't wait good. no, i don't care that the machine you're on isn't yours, i mean, why should i? get out of character for just a few minutes and be a total nuisance and hog that machine ... LOL, works for me. :-)

'cause if i don't have those lyrics in a reasonable amount of time, i'll flood your inbox with teh kitteh and you wouldn't want that. *evil* (with the usual caveat: "if i remember"), no, i don't care that you're onstage pretty soon, I WANNEM NOW!

'waiting... waiting... waiting, LOL, wait-ting... ooh, look! a kitty! right, waiting... *yawn* waiiiiit - tinnnnnngg zzzzzzzzzzzz ...

'zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*snorkle*zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz'

anyway, today i also have something else: a date for sunday, to meet Marianne and Seany from Dublin who'll be dragging along none other than the Very Reverend D Wayne Love. *sigh* when i tried to duck out, i was told if i did, there'd be hurt feelings cause they've planned to detour, to make an unscheduled stop in Bristol on their respective ways home from Cardiff.

hmmmpf...the other night, there was nothing i could say; no amount of cajoling or bribing could talk Marianne out of this insanity, so once again, i'm expected to do what i hate for my friends: get dressed and move my ass into meatspace on sunday when i imagine i'm to be jumping for joy and greeting them all with a smile on my face. the thing of it is, as i just told Mark (and poor Chris knows only too well), '...once i'm blissfully back in my jammies (the ones with little hypos on) the world can go to hell'.

i'm in my jammies now and plan to stay in 'em for quite some time and hoping for a blizzard that'll never happen, but still. LOL, stay tuned. :-)

where did it all go wrong?

thanks to AvenginAngel for the idea, there's a thread over in the backstage area of the official site of the Alabama 3, a topic called the same, one on which people have posted their baby pictures.

AA: 'So, how about a picture of you as a child ... I'm finding it hard to imagine what you looked like!'

sorry for shite quality, but it's a camera-phone pic of a centuries-old photo taken outside 399 Amboy Street, Brooklyn, NY. and although it was a way rough neighborhood i can honestly say at such a young age, i totally wasn't giving anyone the finger, much as it might appear.


as i told Angie earlier, unlike other more normal kids who sucked their thumbs, i sucked my middle and ring fingers simultaneously, in a transparently desperate ploy to stand apart from the crowd. in all actuallity, thinking on it now, i can say with some certainty that above photo is evidence of my first baby steps at attention whoring (that's my little index finger pretending to be what it's not).

so, the burning question remains unanswered: where did it all go wrong? *snigger*

in other news, monday night found me watching Gary Oldman's most excellent Nil By Mouth (which he wrote and directed). i needed more ice cream so i hit 'pause' and walked into the kitchen. a few minutes later, i regained consciousness prone on the floor, so i figure i fainted or something (a first: i've never passed out or anything like that).

long story short: i've an appointment at the GP's 30. november for a complete check-up. apart from the usual, i plan to recommence moaning about those skull-piercing headaches mostly cause i gave up a few months back; gave up cause i was sick and tired of being a pincushion, needlessly giving blood, in order to meet the requirements the NHS deems necessary for an MRI (but failing to do so each and every time). so, we shall see. :-(

moving right along, this next from the department of 'LOL, i'm so clever. NOT': having found an LOL kitteh which exactly suits my temperament and (me being me) still not satisfied after posting it here as well as on FreeA3, i mailed it to Freebase the other day with subjectline reading: 'waaaah! i mean, COCK!'.

me: 'attached is me all crying and stuff cause i miss hearing your bee-yew-tee-ful voice. *snigger*

'no wait, i rilly, rilly do. x'

Mark: 'Yeah, right. One picture of you looking like a cock. Don't worry, I'll make my own way back. x'

back from London: Anarchy in the UK

well, not really 'anarchy' as such; in fact, a disappointingly far cry from it. i mean, nobody ripped out the seats in the venue like they did for The Who back in the 60s or anything, and i was really waiting and all. but still, and very unfortunately, it's over. no time for any of my usual in-depth reviewing *snigger* apart from copying this shite (with a few minor changes) i threw up -- and in the spirit of Punk Rock ca 1977, i do mean 'threw up' -- over at Free A3, after Seany Lynch went: 'Well, C`mon, Tell Me E V E R Y T H I N G ...' (post no. 85)

'nothing to tell, Sean, apart from i've never been patted down so closely since my last meatspace encounter with mr none-of-anyone's-biz. let's just say that before we found our places, a damper was thrown over our lit-tle party when everyone was told we were to remain seated during the entire show.

'SEATED AT A SEX PISTOLS GIG? who's wack moronacy was that idea? anyway, Lydon and the Pistols were totally fabaroo for the first 15 minutes or so. but they seemed to be feeding off audience enthusiasm; after the first few tunes, those around me like wilted (neither me nor my friends [whose ages ranged from 26 to 42] but tacit peer pressure or whatever eventually shut me up). AFAIC, apart from the encore, the rest of the show was just boring, which in all fairness could be chalked up to the fact that we were all the way in the back instead of up close and personal.

'however my above isn't to be taken to mean i regret going; quite the opposite, actually (and i'd do it again and again and again). i woke up, rather, i got going again during the last few tunes in the encore and i lost my voice cause i was once again, being all shouty.

after it was over, i got a txt from Mark saying 'Hope the gig was everything you wanted it to be. Say hello to the kids...BASTARDS! Not that I'm jealous. x'

*snigger* i quickly told him the above cause i felt sorry for the dude ... i mean, there i was paying homage to Lydon and everything he did for my life/my world, whilst Delta Slide Dumbass was playing a gig in Melbourne (my heart goes out to him) *snigger* ...'

apart from the first, following photos by Chris M, who saw it in his magnanimous heart to not make me feel TOO bad when giving me nightly Schadenfreude packed updates since he had the foresight to secure tickets for EVERY damn gig every night, and Glasgow and Manchester as well. hmmmpf... i mean rather, thanks a lot, dude. :-) (as usual, click on image to engorge.)

my ticket! to be treasured forEvuh:



parking at Sex Pistols gigs:


Jonesey, rather, Steve Jones, about whom someone recently said 'I'm totally in love with Steve Jones White Gibson and have been since I was 11 so you can usually find me standing right down front of Jones with my cock out, drooling over that gorgeous guitar, LOL'.


the Artist Formerly Known As Johnny Rotten:


John Lydon, up close and personal (i fucking WISH!):


Sex Pistols onstage; click image for full impact (and get the hell outta the way):



remember kids, it's only Punk Rock --- if y'don't like what y'all hear, then Do It Yerself. :-)

off to London --- Sex Pistols edition

i found out about this like way back in september, thanks to Dragnim who secured tickets for us all. Baudrillard Boy asked to tag along as well, but since his band's playing Melbourne tonight, he totally can't. *snigger*

the other day, i told him he'd be getting a Schadenfreude-laden txt straightaway after the gig and it'd be the best 99p i'd spent in ages, just knowing he'll be seething his ass off (he ignored that bit in his return txt). what gets me (and hopefully will get him in a 'wake the fuck up!' kinda way) is the fact that he'll be receiving my txt just before noon tomorrow, Australia time, and i'm so hoping he's with some Sheeela (in a 'why is this grrl txtng you?' kinda way). and no, i can't believe i used that term either. Sheeela! *snigger*

right, before i forget again (i should've done this a few days back, but better late than never), here's a warning to all Australian females, especially those blessed with brains on top of beauty: ROCK FREEBASE IS ON THE PROWL, SO LOOK OUT! anyway, enough about him *giggle* (for the nonce). *cough*

as you can read, at above link, a coupla hours after Dragnim announced, a way disgruntled Mark The Spark replied 'I think you are 30 years too late, mate! The silly old sods, why don't they just leave it be! Jon must need another house in LA, what a fucking joke!!'

naturally all of which (and more) began a lovely example of the discourse that's so sadly missing from most of the topics over at Free A3. *suppressed raving* (ed. note: yup, that's particularly sensitive material, about which i haven't ri-moaned to ANYone. well, anyone apart from um, Mark, Chris, Dragnim, Christine and countless untold others having a modicum of intelligence. my sincerest apologies to everyone else, but if the shoe don't fit... well, y'know.)

moving right along, i personally thank Dragnim for opening up what turned into a way controversial topic. and IMO, almost everyone who chimed in over there made rather valid points. which all make me think that's it's a pity Mark's so busy being a rockstar on the MOR Tour cause i know he has plenty to say on the Sex Pistols. and when he posts ANYthing (no matter how insipid), it seems to draw out the quieter member of the Congregation, dunno why, LOL.

naturally, i put in my own 2p a number of times, just dying to go further (but nobody picked up on my --- to me --- quite blatant invitations, just asking whomever to please stomp me out). at the beginning, i told Mark The Spark that i was gonna pay homage to John Lydon and nobody was gonna piss on my parade (although i agree with Marianne, that it's not the Sex Pistols without Sid). :-(

as usual, i stuck in as much of my personal life as i could, when i thought it appropriate (ed. note: anyone who reads my raving, no matter for how long, knows that my definition of 'appropriate' varies wildly from most sane others' understanding of same). adjacently, at what's currently the end of the topic, Pam helpfully linked to wiki's Punk Subculture, supplying those clueless (or too young) amongst us with crucial background information.

yesterday Mark the Spark offered up the BBC's Punk's Still Alive and Kicking, so thank you, dude. LOL, this totally kills me --- the article begins:

'There is an infamous piece of graffiti that has adorned toilet walls since the 1960s: "Nostalgia --- it ain't what it used to be". Try telling that to the legions of Sex Pistols fans clamouring to see the ageing punks perform a series of sell-out concerts over the next few days...'

'ageing punks', i fucking love it! *preens like a proudtard* um... here comes the ADD: thank you Xamichee; due to your mail from way back in the Summer, now i always think of you whenever i type that shit. :-)

back to the BBC piece, i loved these next bits as well, beginning with the hypocrisy outta JJ Burnell of the Stranglers:

'It was great to play The Roundhouse again. There was a few songs we hadn't played for 20-odd years but it was fun rediscovering them. I won't be going to see the Pistols, though. They're old men who get together every few years to top up their pension fund...'

got the message loud and clear: it's cool to see the Stranglers (a few of whom i met whilst living at The Chelsea Hotel, lo these many years ago), but it's totally not OK to see the Sex Pistols. um, whateverrr, dude (HAH!). and of course, i totally agree with Jake Burns of Stiff Little Fingers:

'There's been nothing like punk since. I remember when I first heard it, it felt like how it must have done when rock 'n' roll first started. We swept away the dinosaur bands and gave rock 'n' roll back to the kids...'

i'm SO stoked about tonight and even though i added my own personal bullshit to the soon-to-be dead thread over at Free A3 yesterday, over here today, Charlie Harper of UK Subs totally has the last word:

'Punk rock was the early warning system --- the wake-up call to society, but back then most of the people didn't want to listen.'

i love it here (amongst other things)

yup, the magic hasn't worn off and i hope it never does. from the minute i wake up, all i have to do is look out my window and i see some variation of this:


or even if i'm horribly bummed, i'll venture outside, safe in the knowledge i'll be seeing things like this, straight up the road from me:


in all honestly, when i'm horribly bummed, the last thing i wanna do is go outside, but just knowing it's there makes me feel a bit better. sometimes.

moving very swiftly along, with all that aesthetic stuff outta the way, i copied the next txts for posterity or something. actually, they're for when i get depressed cause that's the purpose of this place: to remind me of who i am and that i can spew whatever here and the best part is, nobody can say anything to shut me the fuck up. i mean, i could lean on the r key for an hour and then hit 'publish', even. :-)

OK, last txt from Mark on monday night:

'Boarding soon. Hold the fort while I'm away, please. Later, Sheeelah. x'

i couldn't believe it --- he's so into his newborn Ozzishness, he's calling chicks 'Sheeelah'. *rolls eyes*

first txt from Australia (like almost 24 hours *snigger* later):

'Christ on a fuckin' moped, that was some journey...'


'...Just landed in Sydney, worried they won't let me in as I've never had a criminal record, god knows I've tried. x'

LOL, the rest of the evening deteriorated in a similar fashion and began yet again at a few minutes after 05,00 yesterday morning after i'd made the mistake of telling him i had a very early appointment. um... please notice that none of my txts to him are being copied here. as usual, there's a reason for that. :-)

ah hell, here's one in reply to Baudrillard Boy's

'...We're in a pub on Bondi Beach...'

me: 'AAARRRRGGGHHH! WHY DIDN'T I GO AGAIN? ... wait, you don't play till friday and you're on the beach NOW? GO TO BED! YOU FUCKS! the lot o' youse...' (never mind that it was like 11,00AM down there, if i say 'go to bed!', i mean 'go to bed!'). in other news, i think it best not to copy the rest of that particular txt (or any of mine, actually).

OH WOW, look over there ---> it's TEH ALABAMA 3 LOL KITTEH and their 'sweet, goddamn, pretty, motherfuckin' country, acid, house music all night long'. thank you, Xamichee, this is sooo brilliant. click for the readable version, y'all.


OK, more txts from The Guitarplayer Who Has Cowboys On His Jammies (apart from the one i got yesterday which he, in all his brilliance, rather unoriginally reproduced here).

in all actuallity, after scanning the rest of his txts, i don't think it a good idea to copy more (sorry dude, i know how much you love your private life all over the 'net, i mean, who doesn't?). wait, there're like several safe ones that all read 'COCK!' *snigger* hey, it's his 99p, LOL.

here, Mark, i saw this yesterday morning in a shop on Queens Road. i'd have bought you the card it was on, but i forgot. rather, once i get my plush marsupial, i'll buy you anything you want (well, anything i think is age-appropriate and that won't make a mess on the floor). anyway, this is for you, dear boy:

Alabama 3: bastards of teh unfinished revolution

it was seven years ago today when i first saw them live and instead of waxing particularly rhapsodic over the band who gave me hope and totally changed my life, all the while reaffirming the very long-buried me of me, i'm totally not going there (apart from when i do). :-)

let's see, what do i remember? *whispers* holy christ, what a mess --- i'm trying to remember shit but it's like peering into a tangle of musty old factoids, kinda like snakes, winding their ways around each other. oh wait, that mess is all tentacles of ADD. never mind. *snigger* wait, i think it's safer for me to stick my arm in and reach instead of peer when looking for memories and shit, mostly cause i'd rather lose a hand than an eye. OK, in no particular order: it was the day before the 2K elections and everyone was sure President Gore would win; Chris and i were the only ones dancing at Bowery Ballroom that night (!?!); i had white-blond hair (!?!)... i mean, LOL, rilly! *snigger*

wait, i just remembered something: a few weeks before, we'd come across an article online somewhere which named each person in the band. i'll never forget when Chris and i first read the name Rock Freebase; we looked at each other and i just died laughing, thinking 'jesus, these guys don't give a shit about anything; i fucking love it'. LOL, little did i know... anyway, before the gig, Jake and Rob sat down next to us at the bar but Rob split shortly after while Jake and Chris were tawkin' Steve Earle... they really hit it off well and i was pleased for Chris and his musical expertise or whatever, so much so, that during that first night, i mostly shut the fuck up, content to listen to them tawkin' music. back to Rob, i can't remember why he left but i'm sure it was due to something i said (so nothing much's changed). *snigger* hmmm, let's see... hah! i mean, 'right'... right, right, right.

after Rob took a hike, we chatted to Jake --- the getting-to-know you civilities included intrusive, personal questions on my part along with my own true confessions and other things of a bonding Presleyterian nature. i think everyone ended up pleased with each other; LOL, i remember thinking 'street cred: rising... rising... SOARING!' anyway, for some strange reason i've never fathomed, i chose that precise moment to lean over Chris and although i didn't mean to, ended up like corralling Jake, demanding to know why Sister Rosetta had the same riff as 'Miss You' by the Stones (the look on his face was priceless). um, lemme see... hee, hee.

*sigh* La Peste (now my fave Alabama 3 album, having displaced Exile some time last year) had just been released in the States, but we'd gotten our copies earlier, straight from British Amazon. when they swung into Sinkin', although we were still the only ones dancing, we began to sway back and forth. by the time the tune was ending, most of the audience were on their feet and swaying behind us... y'know, stuff like that. *carefully extricates arm* *shakes off memorial residue* ugh... i always knew i had a filthy mind, but that was ridiculous; now i feel, like, somewhat permanently besmirched, actually. *runs out and washes hands* ahhh, that's a bit better.

one thing i never tire of telling: the first time we saw them en masse, they were standing around, talking amongst themselves, at the entrance to Bowery Ballroom's bar. we bopped in, i had my first look at them, immediately clutched at Chris and hissed 'i know these people!' Chris was all 'What, are you crazy? You've never met them before in your life' and i'm all 'no, you don't understand: i KNOW them'. i finally realised he was seeing the same band i saw, but due to who he was, brought different things to the table, so to speak. this was all driven home in living color, after i remembered i had over twenty years more experience and street cred than Chris did so then we both calmed down after i went 'dude, it's an age thing'. :-)

18,15: LOL this is so funny --- i've deviated from my normal routine today and thwooped a few hours ago. and then it seems, ripped offa my face, i inadvertently hit 'publish'. hahahaha, what a pisser! instead of deleting, i'm leaving this up while i read it; i've only got a vague memory of writing it, really, and have no idea how long it's been up here (timestamp's fucked --- it stupidly displays the minute you begin writing, not the minute you hit 'publish'). LOL, real time online editing, here we come. ;-)

The Guardian: 'The Best Live Band in the Country'

are leaving the damn country tonight, at least the Acoustic flavor of the Alabama 3 is making a mini-tour of Australia, so waaaah! *sob* whoa, i mean HOORAH!

i'm freaking, rather, i'm totally stoked and thrilled about this exposure on the other side of the world and hope they hit it as hugely as possible. wait...how long's the flight? like 23 hours? *snigger* oopsy, sorry, *cough* of course, i pinged everyone i know in Oz ages ago, just so's they'd be on the alert and they all swore up and down they'd make it to the nearest gig. y'all won't be disappointed and you'll totally see, up close and personal, what i've been raving about for years now. :-)

as i said over here, BEST OF LUCK IN AUSTRALIA, dudes. i wish there were someone going along with youse, someone geeky enough to wanna bring his/her laptop to comm with us or the official site or ANYone who'll report back to us in a timely manner, especially after gigs. like at this particular point in time, i want Orlando to be going along.*

i know there are many here and at the official site who'd be tagging along with youse (me. Me. MEEEE!), if on££££y, dammit. whoa, i just found this here (i imagine it's what the teeny tiny font on above poster's meant to say):

Alabama 3 Acoustic Live:
Nov 9: The Toff in Town ~ Melbourne
Nov 11: HiFi Bar & Ballroom ~ Melbourne
Nov 14: The Basement ~ Sydney
Nov 16: Selina's - Coogee Bay Hotel ~ Sydney
Nov 18: Great Northern Hotel ~ Byron Bay

I WANNA GO! *cough* rather, WE ALL WANNA GO! ooh, just found this as well: 'They will also be filmed as part of the ABC's "Live at the Basement" series...' damn, Damn, DAMN! we wanna go... we deSERVE to go... *whine, whimper* *stomps foot into floor* *does it again and again* :-(


wait, gotta calm myself, i mean i had almost three months to get used to this fresh new hell. i mean, rather, this totally fabaroo opportunity for the band to travel and spread their most excellent love and music whilst they broaden their horizons an' all.

hang on, what about my, i mean, OUR horizons?


anyway, from what i remember reading on the official site, lo these many years ago, there's a huge contingent of home-grown --- and to hammer the point home as well as show off my prodigious vocabulary, i might add --- autochthonous Alabama 3 fans already in Australia, who are most likely to be happily spoinging their heads off right about now, the lucky so-and-sos. *sniffle* *sigh* uh... yes, i am happy for them. why do you ask?

moving right along, i shall attempt to be all mature about things and wish them the best and all. so my first act of adultivity shall be a personal request to Mark: dude! please don't forget to watch the water after you flush to see if it swirls the other way in toiletbowls, OK? i really wanna know this* (i forgot what they said on The Simpsons about it). oh, and please bring us all back plush toys, OK? y'know, like for souvenirs? i wanna wombat...* then again, kangaroos are cool and so are koala bears; LOL, HTH. and just cause i want something, i mean, cause i'm a nice guy and stuff, i'm not being all hinty for once, oopsy, you don't like when i mangle the English language, sorry. *cough* OK, for once, i'm not being all esoteric --- i'm being very upfront about these things.

*i wannit, therefore i'm SG. (if there's anyone reading who doesn't know that by now, then they don't belong here. hint!)


anyway and as usual, i find myself buried deep in my usual case o' the mondays or whatever, so i'm sublimating my depression and the copious amounts of cryin' real fuckin' tears-yness at the thought of one less pair of ears to moan in for the next coupla weeks... bah and wah, dammit! cause at any one time, i need at most like 3 or 4 different people (let's call them), so each gets selected bits of gossip, info and of course, endless tirades on my current life problems and the constant wailing and moaning that goes along with them. but i do this very carefully and the end result is all appropriate to who these um, people are and how much each can handle. well, apart from the occasional miscreant.

speaking of which, *cough* note to Electric Landlady: your private life has totally messed up my lifelong MO cause, to put it bluntly, you're hogging one of my oldest friends. and after so many years, i can honestly say this is the first time he's been slacking off, the bastard. anyway, in all truth, i can't really blame him --- you're the guilty party here (and you actually have the nerve to call yourself a friend). hmmpf... i shall get you for this horrible deviousity, you can count on it. *evil* (no idle threat --- you can even ask him). grrrrr... (LOL, i betcha she thinks i'm kidding.)

moving right along, most importantly, i choose my victims, rather, i choose my confidants in such a way that NObody can EVuh put the entire story together (crucial to my well-being and safety). i mean, if you were me, you'd do it too (and thank your lucky wotevers you're not). anyway, i've perfected my ri-moaning method --- now i stagger the logorreah, like, cause i'm a considerate deity and don't wanna overwhelm anyone. my point is, there's stuff i only tell Mark and with Rock Freebase outta the country, there goes a huge amount of material... this is not good. :-(

with that outta the way, all i can say is shiiiiiiit... i'm beginning to feel lost here already. damn, damn, damn.


19,35: WTF? 'Feck off, you daft septic, LOL x' um, straight back atcha, Mark... very nice. not. |-( that lovely missive came in after i very nicely (and politely) asked Unka Fweebase for a liddle plush indigenous marsupial (and threatened to never talk to him again if he failed in this minor task). then i got mean and called Rob 'Larry Luddite' but that's a different story. *snigger* but really: safe flight, Zoe, safe flights, dudes. :-)