Can I just recommend an album? Okay, the band is Whirlwind Heat and I saw them when they played support for The White Stripes and I really liked them. So I bought the album, and my like has been confirmed. It may even be growing into something more. I'm a little wary of recommending the album because I suspect that having seen them live enriches the experience of it for me. But, whatever. It's great. And it's produced by Jack White, if that is important to anyone.

And here's a little anecdote just to prove that hearing and enjoying a band's live performance does not ensure that purchasing their album will be money well spent. A few weeks ago, I saw Rooney on Letterman, and they were great. They looked great, they sounded great, the song they played [called I'm Shakin] was great. It was all great. So, on the basis of this great thing, I bought their album. And, well, it's not so great. I bought the album with eyes wide open. I knew the score. I expected that it would be "rock lite". But I also suspected that I would love it. Now, I wouldn't go so far as to say that it is crap, it's just that I could live without it, you know? It's just not really what I'm after. It doesn't even fulfil that "must love at least one of the tracks" requirement that would justify its purchase. I happily own The Wallflowers' debut album on that basis. I'm Shakin is a good song, I suppose. But, they did it better when they played it live, so my listening to it on the album is tinged with disappointment because of the fond memories. So it can't count as the remorse-bucking song. Oh well.

Oh yeah. Hello Guy. Welcome back. Sheesh, that sounds condescending. Anyway, not to harp on the point, as I don't care for the boy enough to really be invested in defending his honour, but I just can't let an injustice pass without trying to correct it. I'm just that principled. So, here goes. Thorpie's uber-tan is most probably the result of swimming laps every day. I agree that most people you bump into at this time of year with uber-tans have achieved their unnatural glow, well, unnaturally. But most people aren't swimmers. And Thorpie is. You get me? So, to trump your "sham tan, sham swimmer" diagnosis, I would say "real swimmer, real tan". Also, as much as I agree with you about the heinousness of Cherish the Children and all, I think Thorpie's charity stuff raises money for Aboriginal health programs, or something. And I am quite at a loss as to how I know all this stuff. I mean, I've never been a Thorpie fan, or anyhting. He's okay, I guess. But, why is this information in my head? Crimeny.

Ooh, speaking of fans [nice segue, Elanor!], I was having a lovely day shopping with Leah on Friday, until we went into the HMV in the city [to buy items such as those mentioned above] which appeared to be overrun by schoolgirls. As we were walking in, we were overtaken by a bunch of Loreto chicks, and the place was teeming with their ilk, and I was like "This seems a little busier than the last time I was in here". And then the shock of remembrance hit me like ice going down my spine. At the end of some Australian Idol epiosode last week, they had listed some in-store appearances that were going to be happening, and I went "Ooh, look. Bourke Street Mall HMV. I've been there". And I thought no more of it. Until I was making my way around security guards to get to the pop/rock section, only to find that artists A-H had been cordoned off, killing any half-formed dreams I might have had of Har Mar Superstar. Anyway, these weren't the annoying things. You see, it's just that perusing CDs is usually not a stressful enterprise, but it was that day. I understand that noise pollution is a real thing now. It was so noisy it was offensive. I was all out of sorts and kept losing my thoughts. They were playing the Australian Idol album on the speakers, which was not really noisy but still very offensive [with all their resources, how do they manage to make it sound so tinny?] and then there were the girls! They were screeching. My time there was frequently punctuated with an hysterical "We love you Milllsy", delivered in a register that was very discomfiting. I was gritting my teeth at these girls. I didn't expect to develop such feelings of disrespect and contempt for them. But I did. It was scary. Happily, as I said before, Leah was there, and she put me straight. After rolling my eyes a few times and saying things like "What's wrong with them?", and after having purchased my goods, we were leaving the store when we passed the music magazines. And, quite before I could stop myself, I had gasped and run gleefully over to the stand and snatched an item from it and hugged it to my body. It was an NME with Kings of Leon on the cover. And don't bag me out about NME either, okay? I like it, and that's that. Anyway, Leah was nice and patient enough with me to wait and give me the chance to become aware by myself of my hypocrisy about gushing fandom, but I was too enthralled by other things to notice. So she had to gently nudge my understanding. And so I understood. And my mean rancour about the girls was gone. What a lovely little tale, don't you think? And with an humanitatrian message too. We're not so different after all. Aaaah.