"I'm not sure I get the whole yoghurt thing."
"You say that like it's a religion."

(Dear self: I would prefer you, on the whole, a lot more if you remembered to fasten your pants.)

My life hasn't ended. Which may be a reasonable assumption to make, seeing as how I keep (/kept) this blog as a record of my life and its intricacies, and yet I have not blogged in a rather long time. It hasn't ended, but perhaps the intricacies are no longer so elegantly engaging. Perhaps I don't have such an urge to be whimsical and eloquent about it. Perhaps I just have disappeared into geekiness. This is a distinct possibility.

Perhaps I just need to make more of an effort to remember the little snippets that occur to me, usually when I'm walking down the street, and cry out to be blogged, but are shunted into forgetfulness upon arrival at home by the cries of coffee, email, washing up and the other mundanities of my everyday life.

Perhaps I need direct brain-to-internet connection. Can I get a USB port into my head?

Making mixes is still more fun than a girl should be having listening to music.

This post is a note to myself to do all of the above. Except yoghurt. I'm still not sure about the yoghurt.

They're filming Ghostrider in Melbourne at the moment. This is good, because blah blah Australian film industry blah blah money into the local economy blah blah. It's also good, though, because it's totally upping the random value around this place.

For instance, walking up Little Latrobe the other day on the way to the Male's workplace, we saw a truck turn into the street up ahead, carrying a police car on the back. It was obviously a police car, with lights and stuff, but there was something wrong about it. Two seconds late, I realised it was an American cop car. A black-and-white, with "Sheriff" and "Call 911" on the side. I laughed a lot about that.

And today, on my way to work, I walked past Little Latrobe again (different block) and it was cordoned off, and I glanced down it, and seriously did a whiplash-inducing double take. Because there was a burnt-out hulk of a car, and a blasted shopfront, and these weird extra lightpoles, and stuff on the street... and I realised it must be another bit of shooting stuff. I walked home that way too, but there was nothing going on.

It's just bits here and there. Life goes on as usual, and then something crops up out of the blue and goes "Hey! I'm weird and involved with a movie!" It's random, man, and I love it.