If you want to see what I look like – it’s a worrying thought, but somebody might – you can hop over to my better half’s blog at Rolling Eyeballs and witness some of the best male modelling this side of Derek Zoolander.
I’m not the one in the dress. She would be a hottie.
Further to Dave’s suggestion, I am more than happy to share my thoughts on Kevin Smith‘s latest visit to these shores.
He was dead funny and really cool.
You require more, perchance?
The venue was well chosen, if a little out of the way: The IndigO2 is a reasonably sized theatre venue which nestles in a corner of the massive O2 complex in Greenwich, London (It’s the former Millennium Dome, if you haven’t had the pleasure of visiting it yet). It’s reachable by Tube and the Docklands Light Railway, but it’s still something of a trek. There are plenty of places to eat, but all of them operate what can charitably be described as ‘Capital Pricing’ – just enough to make you complain, but not enough that you consider going without a meal.
We sat towards the rear of the stalls, but still had a great view, room to stretch out and easy access to the bar – and Kevin’s fan base is very conversant with alcohol, if you catch my drift. Fans were an amiable bunch – an excellently geeky and diverse crowd, with kudos going to eventual star of the evening, Kevin Latter, whose stood in front of us in the queue outside (you’ll see him on stage in the video linked at the end of this post).
The show itself was everything that I hoped it would be – Kevin started off the evening with a truly splendid anecdote about breaking an employee toilet, which embodied the blend of social embarassment, absurdity and vulgar wit which makes his movies and worldview such a joy to embrace.
After the twenty minute mark, Kevin opened up the floor to questions and fans made a beeline for the microphones set up in the stalls and circle. I had contemplated making just such a run but thought better of it on seeing the queues instantly assemble.
We had a variety of queries, from the usual “Where’s Jason Mewes tonight?” – living his own life and doing his own thing – to questions about his writing (which, as a currently studying screenwriter, particularly caught my attention). Other bloggers who were there have noted the only shark-jumping moment of the night, which came from an overly earnest and ultimately ill-advised fellow who wanted to discuss the tragic murder of actress/writer/director Adrienne Shelly and made an excruciatingly long five minute sojourn into the hows and wherefores of her death (Kevin has worked with the Foundation set up after her death and offered charity benefit prizes as a result). Right cause, wrong venue.
When the only criticism you can offer is that the evening went on a little bit too long – we left at 11:30pm in order to catch a train back to the hotel, but many others were leaving much earlier – that really speaks to the enjoyment had by all. He’s a really engaging storyteller who deserves a larger audience and the very antithesis of the egotistical Hollywood power player (by his own admission, he’s anything but that).
My friend Dave went down to London Village for the Kevin Smith signing on Tuesday 6th October – photographic evidence of which is available at his Twitter feed – and he will be joining me on Tuesday 13th October to take in An Evening With Kevin Smith at the IndigO2 theatre with our better halves.
Dave was kind enough to snag me a copy of Kevin’s new “Shooting The Sh*t With Kevin Smith” book, which collects the highlights of the regular Smodcast that Kevin and Scott Mosier unleash on their listening public – and which was signed, to boot!
Some pics for you to peruse…
I’ll try and provide a heads-up on the show for you on Wednesday – as we’re overnighting it in Londonium and having a morning perusing the city’s finer fabric emporia for Mrs Fluffrick’s various projects.
Or, to put it another way, why not check out the redoubtable Mrs Boo who has taken the reigns over at the previously shuttered “Rolling Eyeballs” blog at Blogger, in order to share with you her excellent creativity and magical design talents.
I like dogs. I am, you might suggest, a Dog Person, with all that entails.
I try not to treat our polyglot, emotionally bemused and frequently barky terrier cross Bonnie like she’s my child, but it’s sometimes difficult not to. Particularly when she is confronted by aspects of the human world that she can’t begin to understand.
She gets easily spooked by thunder, fireworks and vehicle sirens which inevitably leads to my reacting to her distress in the manner of a parent who is desperate to placate their hurting offspring.
In my neck of the woods of late it appears that the done thing amongst stoned urban youth is to blaze up a phat one and accompany your altered state of consciousness with a judiciously launched banger or similarly percussive firework – I’m only glad that we haven’t just had to go through July 4th and the volley of civil ordenance which so frequently accompanies the festivities.
Fireworks – hate ’em. I really don’t see the point – if you’re really that desperate to literally have your money evaporate in smoke, hand me your notes and I’ll gladly set them on fire for you. Perhaps you can even sniff the burning tender in progress and score a contact high? Sound like a plan?
As for thunder, that’s something which I can’t do anything about – and in the British summertime, a few days of hot sunshine seem inevitably to be followed by a couple of days of equally intense downpour, with an accompanying soundtrack of thunder cracks.
Dogs are wonderful, loving additions to any family and I’m glad to have Bonnie in my brood – I just wish that I had a clever way to divert her attention away from the things which appear to terrify her so much…
When you wish upon a star, you get this much-loved take on Snow White, used by Disney to advertise their splendid amusement parks (full disclosure, despite being a card-carrying cynic and miserable git, I loved my visit to Euro Disney outside Paris and heartily endorse Disney’s attempts to culturally colonise the globe if it means that I get a Pixar flick every year. Now hurry up and bloody release “Up”, you scurvy Californian dawgs).
My like of Rachel Weisz is not new to anybody who knows me – hence this most wonderful of blog conventions, the weekly filler feature which gives me an opportunity to generate new content and go all weak at the knees in a pathetic and wholly unnecessary fanboy fashion.