Insert Witty Title Here

So work has been utterly insane and I've been stressed to the gills and not particularly productive of late, which means I haven't updated my blog for ages. I'll try and rectify that this weekend with a couple of quick posts to bring it up to speed.

Speaking of which, I've been doing far to much speed lately. Speed, and strawberry ice-cream. Not simultaneously I hasten to add. Eww, imagine trying to snort strawberry ice-cream. Its bad enough that speed makes your nose burn - imagine having it freeze as well!

Last night I went to the opening night of the German film festival, which like far too many film festivals was marred by having a bland, cheesy crowd-pleaser as the opening night film. Depressing, really, when there are so many potentially stronger films in the program - but I guess they wouldn't want to show a film about Nazi Germany at the opening night when your main sponsor is Volkswagen and their local CEO is in the audience...

After that it was off to see The Lucksmiths launch their new album at The Corner Hotel with my mate Jeff - nice gig but as Jeff pointed out, after half an hour of The Lucksmiths you know you can safely leave as they aren't really going to pull any surprises...

So we headed into the city for the latest Trough faggot party, which I got bored of after about half an hour - generic gay party with lots of guys standing around who vaguely knew each other, although at least the music was better than somewhere like The Peel...

After a quick detour via the Comedy Festival club I dropped in at Control HQ, a private club run by Wally Kempton from The Meanies and Even but there wasn't really anyone I wanted to hang out with there - and as you may have guessed, I wasn't exactly in the 'standing around casually' frame of mind - more a 'twitching with uncontrollable energy' sort of state...so I went downstairs to A Bar Called Barry where my friends Wendi and Francis have started DJing a new retro night, where they play everything from Barry White to The Blues Brothers.

I didn't dance, but I did enjoy people-watching for a while.

Finally I ended up at The Peel, the local gay bar, where I tried to pick up a 23 year old straight football player and failed. Probably good that I did - by that hour, after a couple of lines and far too many vodkas I was in no fit state for lurve. We came back to my place for a couple of drinks anyway - nice guy, whatever his name was.

Mad night. Good fun though. Time for more strawberry ice-cream now.