I was just suddenly hit with a blast of irrational pleasure and surprise. I have been spending this hot-ass day--the thermometer thingie on my Northern veranda told me it was 34 degrees in the shade at midday, although I'm not sure I trust it completely as at times it seems mildly retarded--lounging around in the airconditioning watching an array of shite TV. We have finally got Foxtel Digital (although no IQ, boo), and the interface is very handy. Anyhoo, I switched onto Channel [V], and I had a moment of realisation that I had seen the host of that particular segment before. Indeed, I believe I may have had the esss-eee-eks with him. I'm not sure though. But I am. Sort of. I don't know! I ran to Channel [V]'s website, but he doesn't have a profile thingie*. Rats. I don't know if he is a regular or not, but he was holding a microphone and was filmed in two different areas. Meh.

I now realise that if I ever did have sex with anyone vaguely known, let alone famous, I would have no hope of keeping it a secret. I would be blabbing to NW and Popbitch before I'd wiped the cum from my chin.









* No, it isn't James Mathison, or that guy they replaced Andrew G with who looks like a younger, uglier Andrew G. I think the programmers of [V] had a Dick York/Dick Sargent moment.