The saga that was......

Well still nothing particularly interesting has happened to me for me to write about, but I feel duty bound to contribute something to this blog lest I forget it exists. It does seem that as soon as I started this, all the interesting things that happen to me on a regular basis have stopped happening. Nobody has provoked me into verbal warfare on any of my varied Myspace accounts, I haven't had any particularly spectacular job offers and I haven't had a tramp stroke my hair lovingly on a train for months. True story, I'll tell you about it sometime. Actually I'll tell you about it now - once I was on a train heading home from a shoot when a small bearded lady started stroking me like a cat until her carer showed up. Then allowed her to continue. No, it really isn't that exciting a story. I have to put my new found dullness down to actually being quite content with life at the moment - I'm no longer filled with the raging desire to cause drama. That being said I do get the feeling this may be the calm before the storm, the calendar shoot being only a few days away and what with going on a whirlwind tour of the UK in the run up to the event itself I am sure that fifteen seconds before my debut as creative overlord one of the girls will email me and tell me that she's been kidnapped by terrorists who have broken all her nails and now none of the girls can turn up. I'm terribly paranoid about the whole thing.
Speaking of paranoia, my like, totally crucial shoot was like, totally amazing. It was refreshing to meet somebody truly candid about this industry as opposed to the millions of wannabe footballers wives who rock up and rock out on the same wave disappointed not to have reached Jordan style fame by whinging pitifully about it. Speaking of whom (whining wannabe wags not Jordan, before the legal team pick this up) I have decided I am no longer dolling out my words of sage wisdom and experience to newbies. Because apparently all new internet models suffer from what is known as sycophantic deafness, an illness in which the sufferer only hears sentences that start and end with - you're gorgeous innit? Anyway, this week I am mostly going to be frequenting network rail transport services and playing Mah Jong, which I have just rediscovered. Please keep reading my blog if you have been doing so, I hope that next time I can make an entry detailing wild orgies and lust fuelled sex romps. But until then, try Mah Jong, it really is very good.