Resetting the clock
It's Saturday morning, 7am and I'm up. Damn. I suppose my body is all 'you've had eight hours sleep, more than you usually get, now, out of bed!' The past couple of weeks on early shifts has given me a good idea, at least at this part of the year, what happens at what time. When I awoke, I knew it was 6.30am, got up to check, and sure enough, it was. I know 'cause at 4am it's dark and quiet, and 4.25am when I leave the house it's dark and quiet (unless my iPod decides to play Master of Puppets), when I get to work at 5am it's dark and quiet, when I sometimes pop out at 6am to get a V from the bakery across the road, it's dark and quiet. So to wake up to dark and birds chirping, I figured it was 6.30am, and no later, cause at 7am it's dark but with hungry cats meiowing.

Our friend Ice McGunface broke the terms of his bail - he was under 24-hour curfew at his place, and he wasn't there when the police checked - and they apparently don't think he is going to turn up to his hearing on Wednesday.So combine that with the deleting of his Facebook, and I guess he's trying to disappear or something.

It would suck, for him, if someone who worked in the newsroom of a television station happened to get a hold of any incriminating photographs...

There's nothing on TV at this hour of Saturday morning. TV One's Best of Breakfast is pretty lame, and as often happens in times of crap TV, I've landed on Fox News. It's amusing to hear the presenters twist everything to suit their station's views, sometimes blatantly, but sometimes more subtly and awkwardly. Like the guy on now, struggling and hesitating to describe global warming as, at the very least, 'partly' man's fault.

Being up this early on a Saturday sucks.