Oh! Gravity

I can't believe it's not Martyn!

26 July 2005

Remember Fabio?
That tall, broad, blonde-and-tanned hunk of a man with an accent that no-one could pick?

I was first introduced to this entertainment phenom via the astute research of Aussie expatriate Clive James, back when he had more hair and a variety show to match. But then Fabio disappeared from view, vanishing into the ether of very, very poorly written romance novels (of which I have read none, I might add).

Fabio, Fabio, where art thou Fabio?

Several years later, to my great surprise, Fabio lit-up my television screen once again! This time it was in promotion of another butter-subsititute. No, I'm not talking about margarine, folks. Nor am I referring to other green and/or yellow spreadable substances claiming to contain every vitamin and mineral under the sun. That's right, you guessed it - I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!

Why am I telling you this? Well, in another totally unrelated story, I once approached my group of high school friends when they weren't expecting me. As an expression of surprise, one my friends (Carl) exclaimed "I can't believe it's not Martyn!".

It's been a while (nearly two months exactly) since I last posted. But thanks to prodding from a (suprisingly few) number of sources (ahem Hoaran ahem), I am back. I have not intentionally stayed away. Let's just say that work has been sucking up my life recently, amongst other things.

Again, I tell you, expect musings on whatever's going through my head and/or my life. Just don't necessarily expect them in a timely manner *cheeky grin*.

Can you believe it?

I can't....

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