Happy New Zealand Labour Day, all! (Ironically enough I'm at work. But I get overtime pay. And an extra day off. Thank you, nineteenth and early twentieth century labour movement. I truly appreciate your agitation and sacrifice. Workers unite!)

I have become obsessed with Alex's link to the current electoral vote predictor. I visit daily and try to make sense of it. Nine days to go until our fate is sealed, for good or ill. (Yes, I have been reading a lot of Jane Austen recently.) By the way, Americans, could you bloody well reform your electoral system already? It's so fucked! (Um, well, actually only if you really want to and think it's a good idea. I don't want to come across like a Guardian reader in Ohio or anything. And yes, I do brush my teeth.)

Last night James came over and we stayed up really late channel-surfing. We managed to see the Diana Ross episode of the Muppets. She sang 'Love Hangover' with a chorus line of giant flamingoes and an enormous multicoloured dancing parrot. And that was the understated, classy number. James also showed us the promotional film clip for Leonard Nimoy's 'Bilbo Baggins'. I cannot fully express to you the weirdness of it all. Not only did he frolic with go-go dancers wearing pointed ears, but each of them was wearing a badge exhorting us to vote for Nimoy for the U.N. Blame Canada!

We have REM tickets. For March 26 next year. In New Plymouth. The 'naki! I never thought I would be going to New Plymouth again to see a band after the dodgy journey to the Jethro Tull biker convention! (Don't even ask.) Lawrence and Vanessa and Brent and I are taking a road trip. Get your kicks, on... the West Coast Surf Highway. (I think perhaps we need a NZ version of a road trip song.)