...way out on the corner of fucked up and evil...

Well, well, well. Once again, I must apologise for leaving you bereft and Froodless for such a long time. In my defence, the last couple of weeks have been MADNESS, of the very best sort. Kicking off with THE BEST HALLOWEEN EVER, in which I gave myself a headache with my Medusa costume, made myself sick by eating too many cakes, was asked to be a Godmother (mwahaha, the Church of Liamneeson lives!), actually got Trick-or-Treaters who weren't chavs, had a powercut on Halloween night, and took many pictures that will be used to embarrass my fellow revellers once they are staid and responsible parents. Although they can't be all that responsible, because really, who makes someone like me responsible for a childs' religious edutainment?

Laterwards, I and Snithy both succumbed to the wonders of Newly Hot David Boreanaz, in the guise of swoon-inducing FBI agent... uh, I forget what his name was, but it was stupid. Anyway, he's Totally Hot and shoots things and digs and threatens to shoot gender-ambiguous lab assistants for asking him about his sex life. Needless to say, it totally rules.

Then, as if such Halloweeny and David Boreanazy joy wasn't enough, it was my birthday, which I celebrated in the best tradition of Making People Buy Me Stuff, which was cool even though I didn't get a monkey or a dancing baby penguin. I did see the History Boys (awesome), the Prestige (stupid plot twist barely compensated for by having Hughverine and Batbale wear top hats) and the Departed (which would have been awesome if not for MAtt Damon, and when I say Matt Damon you have to imagine me saying it in the voice of the Matt Damon puppet from Team America, because that is exactly how I feel about Matt Damon.)

Also, I finally got around to watching Carnivale, which is... interesting. I feel bad for Libby, though; her mother's a whore, her father is weak and ineffectual and her sister is dead, and now I reckon Jonesy has a bit of a mancrush on Ben since the Laying On Of Hands. Also, Lodz is creepy. Like, way, way creepier than Brother Justin. Also, there should be more bears. Take a hint from Lost, writers; bears are awesome.

Also, Snithy, you will be gleeified to know that the cheque for Wicked is in the post, complete with deathly hamsters of death and possibly some lumberjacks, and that I have booked my ticket to... Cornwall or Colchester or wherever it is you live. And if your home town does not prove to be the pit of moonshine-swilling hillbillies I imagined it to be, I will be most displeased.