One of the highlights of last weekend was a visit to the Pixar exhibition at ACMI, which was so much more than pictures. There were animations, colour scripts, detailed studies, sculptures and...a zoetrope. A spinnning, ye olde worlde, strobe-lit animation spectacular with cute waving aliens.

From those giddy heights, I've plummeted into a world of frantic revision and writing preparatory to my 2.5 year review next week. I'll talk to you on the other side.

All these drug scandals suck - it makes it hard to convince anyone else the sport is worth watching. Poor old tour.

Can you tell I was sick when I wrote that last post? Like, by the way it made no sense and had nothing to say? My poor fevered brain and virus-stricken body spent last week on the couch, but my recovery was hampered by the seductive, late night thrill of the Tour de France.

The tour is my favourite sporting event ever. First and foremost, it is the only sport I have encountered that presents a recipe at the beginning of the telecast. Gabriel Gate presents the Taste of le Tour - baked snapper with tapenade, or even more delightfully, hazelnut meringue with raspberries. On the very best recipe segments, he introduces his "brother" Francois (Gate in a silly hat) to do the cooking. There's wine matching, history of the region, and bon vivant galore.

Second only to the recipe in its appeal is the scenery. The tour goes through the absolute prettiest bits of France, and the cameraman in the helicopter has his priorities right. He'll zoom away from the cyclists to circle an interesting castle on a hill, or a pretty church in a town. Last night's telecast featured a long, lingering tracking shot of a Pyrenean condor.

Finally, of course, the actual sport itself is extremely interesting. There's tactics at play here - weird team manouevres, breakaways, attacks, catapults. And there's gruntwork, too.

Did I mention the hilarious commentary? You can drink everytime Phil Liggett or the other one says "But, that's the tour" or that Basque rider Txurroko is the "lightest rider in the race". And the bystanders who line the route with their campervans and funny costumes? It's brilliant. Vive le Tour.

Amongst my Thailand haul is a Nine Inch Nails album, With Teeth. I bought it on the strength of an article by Gina Gionfriddo in the June/July edition of The Believer, which was just one of several bizarrely interesting and informative pieces (the history of the mellotrone? A rant against Dylan fans, oh yeah). The beginning of the article is available online, which unfortunately isn't the best bit. Read the Paul Collins mellotrone piece instead, maybe, which is available in full text.

Anyway, With Teeth is as good as the article promised, full of anguished faith questions and tense guitar riffs.

To give you an idea just how depressing it is to be back in Melbourne after my beach holiday in Thailand, I'll give you a list of the the cocktails I sampled over two and half weeks, at an average cost of $4 each:

Banana daiquiri
Strawberry margarita
Caipirinya
Banana colada
Black Russian
Gin and Tonic (x several)
Baileys nightcap on the beach, with my feet in the water. It was about 11pm, and sleep was not an option because there was a beach party with fire twirlers and bad 90s house music going down.

I bought some of the new mint chocolate Baileys at duty free on the way home. Along with that alcoholic compensation I'm feeling cheered by the extensive collection of "surprisingly" cheap CDs I bought from various roadside stalls. Chief amopng my delights: The Very Best of The Stone Roses. It's research for my Manchester trip. No one told me how cool they were! Not even their foray on the Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels soundtrack hinted at the sheer depth of coolness this CD offers.