And.... we're back.

Good morrow to you, nice bloggers that sometimes check out my inane ramblings here on the interwebs. I am back and full of vim and vigour for writery type things and checking out all your groovy stuff that you have done and gone posted over the past month or so. I shall not bore you with the general hellishness of moving a fortnight before Christmas, in a rush, with a chest infection and two children under the age of seven. Suffice to say, I'll not be doing it again anytime soon and I'm sure there is some kind of therapy group I can go to.




Now, as for the new home, everything is very marvellous. We moved from a two bed flat into a four bed house and then only conclusion I can arrive at is that we must have lived like pack rats in the old place. The new place is a spacious four bed detached house and we still can't find homes for everything. And we have a garage! Pack rats? I sneer at pack rats. We ninjafied pack ratting. We were so good at storing stuff, we were nearly folding up space-time neatly in the cupboard because you know, that gets all over the place if you let it. Problem is that in the new place, we haven't worked out the three dimensional jigsaw of storing stuff yet. Don't get me started on IKEA either. Those mother-lovers are getting all my frickin' money at the moment.

Anyway, Christmas / Saturnalia / Midwinter Festival was had in the new house and it was pretty damn cool. The kids were spoiled absolutely rotten by all and sundry. That was awesome. Also, because we made a little money on the sale of the flat, I was able to spoil The Bride (that's my name for my lovely wife) too. We did promise not to buy presents for each other as times were tough this year, but I reserve the right to love my wife and treat her in the way she should be treated when I can. I did too and there's nothing you can do about it. Nyah, nyah, nyah.

This post is getting a bit rambly (is that even a word?), so I'll get to the sharp end as it were. The Bride has just retired to bed after we both watched New Year's Eve with it's cast of thousands. It was a good laugh even though Alyssa Milano is only in it for thirty seconds as "Nurse Mindy" or some-such in the maternity ward story? That woman is far too good looking to be in hospital scrubs. I'd give up my place on the Jedi Council for that woman. I would. Also, why would Katherine Heigl be mooning over Jon Bon Jovi, when clearly, I'm only a cab, an eight hour plane ride and another cab away?

As I basked in the creamy, happy, don't-you-know-that-she-is-old-enough-to-be-his-mother-and-you-are- inferring-that-they-might-be-rummaging-around-rudely-in-each-others-underwear-later, slightly weird, but ultimately warm feeling that only watching Zac Efron and Michelle Pfieffer dance together to Pink can bring you, I thought of one of my favourite songs about this time of year. It's Frank Loesser's What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? which has been recorded by many folk from Ella Fitzgerald to Diana Krall. Rufus Wainwright recorded it for a Gap advert and it's brilliant. Don't listen to the Deschanel/Gordon-Levitt version, it's a musical travesty. You probably will now though be typing the title into YouTube to decide for yourself, but I beg you to listen to the Rufus Wainwright version first. Then compare Deschanel/Gordon-Levitt. Don't they suck really hard? Don't give up the day job kids. The day job being acting that only requires big eyes and vacuous looks. They are like Anime/human hybrids...

So, as the song says "Here comes the jackpot question in advance. What are you doing New Years? New Year's Eve?"

Rock on,

W.