A decade of sun
Finally got 'round to buy the Spleen United album. Considering the fact that they're from Aarhus (or similar) and all have stupid (is there any other kind?) beards, it's actually rather good. I have a feeling that it'll really grow on me when I give it the more thorough listening that I haven't done yet - my mother has been visiting for the last couple of days and I didn't really find it worth the bother of putting it on and having her go "It's very noisy, isn't it?" and "How can you listen to that? It's terrible.", which are, from what I remember from living at home, her two standard lines to about 95 % of my record collection.
However, you have to hand it to her, if she hadn't insisted on watching the Eurovision Song Contest higlights-thingy yesterday, I would possibly never have found out what a great song the 1965 Luxembourg entry, Poupée de Cire, Poupée de Son (that's Wax Doll, Sound Doll, I think. Strange.) by France Gall is. Not much indietegrity in the Eurovision, but after all, this was written the one and only Serge Gainsbourg, whom you have to love, and Belle and Sebastian has done a cover (it's not very good, though).
While she (my mother, not France Gall) and my sister were here, we've dyed my hair to what I think is pretty close to my natural colour. It's hard to tell if it's right because I haven't had my own colour since I was 15 or so, but I think we got the slightly mousy brown about right. As you might be able to tell, I'm already a bit sick of it and I've only had it for a few hours. Oh well.
Just before I leave, could someone please explain to me the point of portable porn? Yeah, it's nice that the new iPod displays video and all that, but porn? What the f*** are you going to do with it? Watch it on the bus on your way to work? I mean, come on... (actually, don't).