Hooray! The international movers called and our stuff went through customs without any taxes or duty being assessed. Yes, that would be the ten boxes of stuff we shipped from London nearly three months ago. I can’t even remember what’s in there! Moving halfway around the world is a loooong process, folks.

Remember the teenager who crashed a plane into a Florida building? His suicide note is now online. This looks pretty damning. I still think he could’ve made it all up, but I’m gonna go ahead and rescind most of the benefit of the doubt I gave him back in January.

What a fabulous evening! The Snook and I went to see Bugs Bunny on Broadway at the Sydney Opera House. The show (conceived by American conductor George Daugherty) features various Warner Brothers cartoons projected onto a large screen while a live symphony orchestra plays the famous music below. It was so cool! They actually started off with “Flight of the Valkyries” (without the cartoon) and afterwards the conductor accurately surmised that every single person in the audience had been singing to themselves: “Kill the wabbit!” They did the “Rabbit of Seville”, “A Corny Concerto”, “Baton Bunny”, and “Rhapsody Rabbit”, among others. And of course, the big finale was the full six minutes and forty-five seconds of “What’s Opera, Doc?” There’s nothing like seeing Elmer in his “magic helmet” singing of his love to Bugs as Brunhilda up on a giant screen while the orchestra crashes below. My favorite moment of all, though, came during the Wile E. Coyote cartoon “Zoom and Bored.” At some point, the coyote runs off a cliff or something and the orchestra completely stops as he contemplates his fate in silence. At that exact moment, all 3000 of us in the concert hall smiled as we heard the laughter of two little kids in the second row. It was fun.

Oh, and the icing on the cake? It actually stopped raining today! It was the most amazing feeling in the world to be standing outside the Opera House, staring up at the city skyline and the Harbour Bridge through a gorgeous, sparkling evening sky. It felt like being in a movie or something. You’ve just gotta see Sydney at night.

There’s an interesting argument taking place in my college newspaper‘s “Viewpoint” section this week. It’s about Johnny Walker Lindh, the American Taliban fighter. This guy is calling for leniency in Lindh’s sentencing. Whereas this guy not only thinks Lindh should be executed, he thinks his father should be executed as well. (I almost thought the second guy was being satirical at first, but now I’m pretty sure he’s being sincere. He even called the previous guy’s letter “liberal garbage.” ND sure churns out some nutballs.)

Hmmm. Slate’s got a good article about the Dvorak keyboard layout. You know, the one that puts the keys we actually use the most nearer to our fingers? (That’s the opposite of the QWERTY keyboard, which spreads everything out.) I actually tried to learn Dvorak once back in high school. I had already surpassed my keyboarding class in terms of speed and I was looking for a new challenge. My teacher tried to dissuade me, saying that it’s like trying to become expert at playing two different musical instruments. Eventually I gave up when it started impacting my QWERTY speed. But this article has revived the idea in my mind. Why shouldn’t I give it another shot now? I’m not working a desk job, so the learning curve shouldn’t hurt me. I think I’m gonna try.

The discussion we were having about Rosie O’Donnell’s sexuality and the importance of celebrities “coming out” seems to have moved from Tara D‘s site to Matt‘s. Feel free to jump in.

Another victory! Oh, we didn’t win the Trivia tonight (again). But I did manage to win two of the “free jug of beer” competitions. The first involved identifying a filmmaker, which I correctly deduced was Quentin Tarantino before twenty other people. The second was called “heads or tails”, where you have to stand and put your hands on your head or your bum. The quizlady flips a coin, and if she gets your sign, you’re still in. And I was the last one in the bar standing! I never win anything!

Hooray! I just got an e-mail from a theater company in Sydney who want me to help them out with a show. It’s non-paid, of course, but at least it’s a reason to get out of the house. I called the Producer back and I’m gonna go see a read-through next week. The show is apparently about the adult film industry (hi, Mom!) and it’ll run throughout Sydney’s Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras festival in March. It looks like I’d be helping out with props, set design, and publicity. How awesome is that?

You know, sometimes when you go to the gym mad, you just come out madder. Tonight’s list of complaints:

• The ladies’ locker room has a fat mirror in it. You women know what I’m talking about. The kind that makes you look bulgy in all the wrong places when you look in it. It’s right near the door, too, so I see it right at the beginning and end of my workout. The damn thing is so distorted it should be in a Funhouse. It’s not a very inspiring sight.
• I had to rearrange my usual routine because some scary woman was monopolizing the inner thigh adductor machine. You know, the one where your legs are spread way out. Except she wasn’t actually using it; she was just sitting in it. Spread-eagled. Like she was at the gynecologist.
• My left ear is mutant. It’s freakishly small. My new iPod earbuds were too big and kept falling out, so I got some of those sporty ones that curve over the back of your ear. They fit fine on my right ear. They do not fit fine on my left ear. In fact, they stay in for about two seconds before popping out. Can you get plastic surgery on an ear??
• I wish fitness results were correlated to how red and sweaty one’s face gets. I’d be the frickin’ Queen of that place.
• I’m not a gym size-ist. In fact, I think less healthy individuals (and I include myself in that group) should almost have priority on the equipment. However, when you’re so big that you literally have to squeeze into a piece of equipment, perhaps you shouldn’t be using it just yet. Yes, big fat man in a little T-shirt, I’m talkin’ to you. That abdominal machine will never be the same.
• Every time I swear I won’t check my weight, and I always do. And it makes me so mad! It keeps moving up and down. One day I’ll lose a pound, the next I’ll gain it back with interest. What the hell am I doing this for?

Whew. I feel better now that’s off my chest.

More proof that I need to get a job: I just spent two hours reading all of this season’s Friends scripts. Pathetic.