I am completely overstimulated. Exciting things are happening all over the goddamn place, and my poor little brain is so chemically imbalanced that I’m starting to lean to one side.
Firstly, I just brought home my new Fiesta. If it’s possible to fall passionately in love with an inanimate object, then I’m fairly sure I have. I keep telling myself it’s not exactly inanimate, because occasionally it talks to me. For instance, if I press a button and yell loudly at the roof “radio!”, it replies “what frequency?” in a terribly posh voice. I’m hoping I can train it to tell me I look pretty every morning, and that my calves look fantastic when I leave the gym. I want to hug it and give it butterfly kisses and spend every night curled up in the back seat. I LOVE THIS CAR!
My other new plaything is in the shape of a 27 year old drummer who looks like a cross between the singer from Kings of Leon and Rob Thomas. He has amazing biceps, so obviously I’ve been too distracted to bother finding out whether he has a personality yet. I’m also trying to train him to tell me I’m pretty and that my calves look fantastic, but considering he’s a drummer I suspect the car will learn quicker.
I’m also excited about my holiday. In about a week I’ll be flying up to sunny, slightly damp Queensland to spend some time with my parents. I haven’t seen them since May last year, and I’m looking forward to eating wholesome food and being violently grilled about the timing of my intentions to squirt out grandchildren. By my mother that is, I’m fairly sure my father would pick up his things and quietly shuffle off to a remote part of the Himalayas if I ever lobbed up on the doorstep with crotchfruit.
Then there’s George R. R. Martin. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him too. He’s in the middle of penning his A Song of Ice & Fire series, which is basically about knights and dragons and zombies and shit. I’ve always been rather repulsed by fantasy and science fiction literature, but this is something else. If you like a good fiction novel, give it a crack. The downside, of course, is the wait between novels. The fourth book in the series was released a good six years ago, and only this week has George finally announced a publishing date for the next one. July this year, if anyone is interested. This is hugely exciting for me in itself, but on top of that…HBO has started making the story into a truly epic looking TV series, which first airs in April. Of course we don’t get HBO in Australia, but I’m hoping some piratey soul will upload it onto the intertubes at some point. So bloody excited.
And if all that’s not enough to give me a heart murmur, at the cinema on the weekend I saw a trailer for…Fast Five! That’s right, some overpaid writers have managed to cobble together another whole reel’s worth of insipid acting, clichéd dialogue and bland storylines into a FIFTH instalment of the Fast & the Furious franchise. They’re cheesy and unbelievable, but lordy how I adore those movies. There’s nothing like a good car chase film. And now I have my own sports car, I can totally relate.