I can understand why people go crazy and smash up their PC's in the workplace. On days like this I frown out the window because the grey winter sky is more appealing than my work. On days like this you think it couldn't possibly be any more monotonous. On days like this I dream of wrenching the machine from the sockets and hauling it off my desk, showering useless pieces of paper and coffee cups and disks all over the cheap goverment carpet. I imagine the sound of my poky 14-inch monitor smashing through the window would be quite delicious, but not as sweet as the sight of it diving to the ground below, its innards exploding all over the pavement. Then I'd race down the stairs to stomp on the remains, just to make sure it was really dead.

"The blues are because you're getting fat or maybe it's been raining too long. You're sad, that's all. But the mean reds are horrible. You're afraid and you sweat like hell, but you don't know what you're afraid of. Expect something bad is going to happen, only you don't know what it is......"

I've seen Breakfast At Tiffany's a bazillion times, but I'm only just now getting around to reading Truman Capote's novella. Oh dear Hollywood, what have you done? I knew that the film was a sanitised version but I had no idea just how much they prettied it up. There's just so much more to the story, more complexity to the characters. But it was good to see some of the quirky dialogue remained intact. And of course I had to skip ahead to read the ending. So bittersweet. Nothing at all like the happily ever after on celluloid. Now I can see why Truman Capote was peeved with it all. The film is just missing the soul.

Woohoo! It was a great show. I'd write more but it's late and I have to go to work in a few hours or so. But we had a great spot, right up the front. I also managed to score a setlist! What a souvenir! Huzzah!

UPDATE:  Two and a half years later, I found this entry and realise I've deleted the preceeding entry. The show was Alex Lloyd at the Belconnen RSL, of all places. He was supported by Doves and Pretty Violet Stain.

Alex Lloyd went on to become an ARIA-winning hit machine and dubbed by some "the New John Farham". Doves went on to be quite bloody famous. My sister still cackles because I mispronounced the other guys as Pretty Violent Stain. Every time I dump pasta sauce on my shirt she says, "Ooh, that's a pretty violent stain." Ha ha.

Attention Crocodile Hunter fans! June 18-24 is Croc Week on the Discovery Channel:

"Croc Week is Animal Planet's special week of knee scraping, jaw dropping, edge of your seat adventure programming featuring one of the most passionate, charismatic, and imitated personalities in popular culture today, Steve Irwin – The Crocodile Hunter."

Just how did this guy get so bloody popular anyway? I am amazed when I talk to people overseas and all they want to know is all about our snakes and spiders and crocs and, "Is it true that the Croc Hunter got his leg bitten off?"

His website has fun for young and old. Relieve favourite episodes in The Yak Shack. Get merchandise from the Croc Shop. Learn the Australian lingo with the Aussie Glossie. Hey, that one doesn't even rhyme properly!

As much time and energy we invest into making Australia look like a cultured and progressive nation, it's only walking cliches like Mr Irwin that manage to get the rest of the world to notice us. I think he should step over a bed of scorpions, crocs and rare green trees snakes and light the Olympic Flame at the Opening Ceremony. "Bewdy, mate! The 'lympics are open!"

A friend of mine has been giving me HELL because I confessed that the last concert I went to was The Bee Gees.

I know they're daggy. I know their falsettos defy the male anatomy. But you gotta admit, in their kitschy white-boy disco way, they're funky boys.

People think Bee Gees and think Saturday Night Fever. But they were huge way before then. In the 60s they had some massive hits. Words, Massachusetts and How Do You Mend A Broken Heart? They had 5 singles in the top ten of the Billboard Charts at the same time, something never seen since The Beatles. Their dorky haircuts and soaring voices made legions of housewives moist.

Then in the 70s they reinvented themselves, tightened up their trousers and exposed their manly chests to bring disco to the distinctly unfunky masses. It was non-threatening and palletable for the conservative folks. It lacked the danger and sexiness of other artists. Who could forget such chestnuts as Jive Talkin' and Nights On Broadway?

Then in the 80s they had a few crapola albums, but damn, did they write a bunch of good songs for other people! Heartbreaker gave has-been Dionne Warwick a much-needed hit. Chain Reaction saw Diana Ross hit #1 with her hair teased like an atomic bomb cloud and the Gibb boys bleating in the background. Best of all was Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton warbling Islands In The Stream. Sail away with me. To another a world. And we can rely on each other. Uh huh.

Where would have crappy boy bands been in the 90s without the Bee Gees to cover? How many talentless freaks rode the coattails of How Deep Is Your Love and Stayin' Alive all the way to the top of the charts? Then there was that ill-conceived Bee Gees/Celine Dion duet that basically sank without a trace. But it showed how the boys are still HIP and WITH IT after three decades in the business. They have their finger on the pulse of rawk, whether it be sanitised disco or pompous over-produced ballads.

So don't diss the Gees, bro. They have contributed so much to modern music. Their legend will be aha ha ha ha stayin aliiiiive for years to come.