Seven episodes of Lost left. Still no idea what’s really going on, and as time progresses, I’m fairly sure the writers don’t either. Still, it was fun while it lasted.
Jimmy Page’s guitar riff on Led Zeppelin’s In My Time Of Dying is pretty much the most perfect thing I’ve ever heard. Watching Page, The Edge and Jack White jam to this classic in It Might Get Loud just brightens my day every single time.
Writing is a frustrating, un-rewarding, depressing and lonely occupation. But when I’m on it, and I mean really on it, nothing makes me happier.
I have an awful lot of man-love for Jason Bourne.
Eating all your Easter Eggs as quickly as possible so you can’t see the mountain of chocolate any more will not stop the guilt. Especially when the cocoa smudges on your shirt are a constant reminder of what a greedy bastard you’ve been.
Why must they now release all the old classics on Blu-Ray? I’m broke, but that HD version of Lucio Fulci’s City Of The Living Dead is a must-have.
My PornStar T-shirt needs to go in the bin, because (a) it’s now so old and I can’t really tell where the holes end and the sleeves start, and (b) it’s blatant false advertising. Ask my wife. It’s more PornHope than PornStar.
I have a dream about taking my family and running away to somewhere remote, idyllic and peaceful, with long days filled with golden sun and nights dreaming beneath the stars. And as I get older, I realise that I must give it my all to make that dream a reality.
Repeatedly watching the trailer for Scott Pilgrim Vs The World will not make the August 6th release date come any faster.
I try and I try, yet still cannot find any Brain Salt on the shelves at Boots. If I could just take a spoon a day… Think how amazing my thought processes would be.
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