ride

another day, another horse-related post. Tonight I went to a performance of West-End sensation Equus, my first time at a play since moving to London. First of all, yes, it is the one where Harry Potter gets naked (I'll be honest, we definitely talked about it-a lot with the friend I went with on our way to the theatre. Like, 'if the play sucks, at least we'll have seen Harry Potter naked and we can tell others about it' or 'that play was great, and hey, we saw Wizard boy get nude and get to tell people about it'. Shallow, but these are the things you talk about at the end of a long workday and three days of rain). Also I was mistakenly under the impression that a real live horse was to appear during the performance, and was pretty excited, definitely more than by Daniel Radcliffe's (that's Harry Potter) impending nakedness. Unfortunately that never occured, but there were 6 fake-horses, so that's gotta count for something. Plus the actress who plays DR's girlfriend gets naked too, so that's one for the plus column as well. But enough with the base comments, let's talk about aaaaarrrt. I'm not a huge specialist of the stageplay world; indeed having seen 2 is a performance that puts me perilously close to my all-time record of 3, reached back when I saw them during school field trips, aka would go to even when I didn't want to just to hang out with friends. But I always enjoy attending one because it takes me out of my artistic comfort zones which are music and film, and generally leads me to rewarding intellectual stimulation. What, you thought I went to oggle boobs and wait for a live animal to appear?
Written by Peter Schaffer, Equus tells the story of a psychiatrist who is presented with the odd case of a youngster whose fascination with the equine race has led him to a terrible crime against them. The shrink was played with tremendous ease by Richard Griffiths, which presented a more than compelling partner to Alan Strang, the character of the teenager played by Mr Radcliffe. The story touches on many themes often found in psychanalysis, like religion, family or sex, but is open-ended enough for everyone to reach their own conclusion. While I wasn't totally convinced by logic behind the story (especially when related to Alan's childhood and his initial fascination for horses), I thought it progressed coherently, and was aided by mostly strong acting. The directing and lighting was simple and efficient, never getting in the way of the story while still presenting the audience with some nonlinearity.
We only decided to go see the play during lunchbreak, when we went to the Leicester Square tkts booth (which I highly recommend) and saw the list of shows on offer, but overall I enjoyed seeing it. And yes, I did see Harry Potter nekked, but the play and the overall artistic choices are interesting enough for it not to feel like a gimmick. Still I sure would've loved to see an actual horse on that stage.

somewhere

after a week in which I went out every single night (capped by the inevitable Friday night pub session, which even though you come home at 11 make you feel as though the night's been much much longer than that), the prospect of a three-day weekend with most everyone I know here away gallivanting in the countryside or in foreign lands was looking might fine.
Of course it has since been raining almost continuously, but such was my motivation to spend the ultimate low-key weekend (highlight so far: watching West Side Story) that the weather has almost been validation of my plans: this rain means it is my destiny for me not to do anything.
Being sociable and meeting people is great, but sometimes you just gotta hang out with yourself for a while, funny how some people (read: certain ex-girlfriends) never seem to understand that. And I do have a museum session planned with a girl from work tomorrow, so it's not I'm holed up junkie-style for three days, but the "lesson" here is that getting away from it all doesn't necessarily mean moving to a cabin in the woods and eating canned beans.

silent sigh

walking around Selfridge's, I noticed a t-shirt with the slogan "Working Class Hero", as made famous by John Lennon. They were selling it for £35, which made me wonder, is there any possible way for someone to buy this t-shirt (and wear it) without looking like a huge tool? Non-rock fans wearing CBGB tees is one thing, but this is pretty far out. What's next, replica bejeweled-crown of thorns for Born-Again bapesters?

short and not sweet

roses are red, violets are blue
Pippo Inzaghi, Oh how I hate you

un groupe de chevaux

a good concert is:

- seeing the unknown opening act coming on stage, all looking like Jack Black at the beginning of School of Rock, only with less fashion-sense, and then enjoying the heck of out their songs, enough to buy their CD at the merch stand after
- watching from the front row even though you're generally cramped and bumped into, and not giving a rat's ass until the very last note has stopped resonating long ago
- very clearly feeling your hearing diminish like polar ice as each song goes by and thinking 'hey, those ear plugs might be a good idea', then completely forget about it instantaneously because the band just hit the killer part of a song
- not be able to stop smiling for minutes at a time. Seriously, where else in life does this happen?
- feeling close to strangers swaying next to you even though you won't talk to most, if any, of them
- feeling good about yourself for not spending your money on beer for once, then immediately blowing £30 on band merchandise, including a girl's tee-shirt you bought because you were paying too much attention to the Sienna Miller lookalike working the merch stand than to the garment she was handing to you. In a related note, anyone want a girl's medium Band of Horses tee?
- coming out of the place and calling up the friend you usually discuss music with, so you can share the joy. Cell phones really are a tremendous innovation for mankind

get away from me

the notion of personal space definitely has different interpretations according to whom you ask. Personality plays a part, and culture is a big component of how one's view on this matter. Still traditionally people have tried to not get in the way of others, so that this crazy thing we call living in organized society could be just a tad bit easier. But all that has been changing in recent years, with the advent of the "bigger is better, and you best get out of my way" attitude. And nowhere has that pleasant trend shown up more than in large cities. The first time I saw an SUV stampede through the small streets of the 6e might have made me smile, but by the 5th or 6th time it didn't seem that funny anymore.
Or take two recent annoyances of mine. I wouldn't call them pet peeves, it's not like I'm forming a committee or anything, but I've definitely had evil thoughts at the sight of these. First is the gigantic stroller you see parents - generally young- carry their latest addition to the tax bracket in. These things probably could give SUVs a run for their money when it comes to maneuverability, and are generally as pretty to look at. I'm guessing for a lot of those new parents the decision is to put safety first, but really when you baby-carrier is the size of a small tank, wouldn't that make it that much easier to get into accidents. When I was a kid people used the classic McLaren models, which were foldable and very convenient (apparently McLaren doesn't make that model anymore). Sure they couldn't have been that comfy, but if you're a kid and someone's pushing you around, there's not a whole lot you should be complaining about. I'm not too much into old-school values like ass-whooping and all that backwards stuff, but in this case it seems like we've taken the need to protect our young ones a bit too far. And with it the premium on available space in public transportation.
Then there are the humongous umbrellas that always seem to be used by just one person who doesn't look at where their instrument of eye-popping is being thrust around. Those things might be half of the size of Manhattan, but you will rarely see more than one person under one of those things. For this reason I propose we institure a rule for umbrellas like those we have on clogged highways for cars: umbrella-pooling. If your umbrella is one of the large models and the street is crowded, you're not allowed to use it on your own. This way we'd reduce some of the pavement-crowding, while also promoting increased social interactions between heretofore selfish owners and their rain-challenged fellow denizens. Of course for those like myself using the Jack Bauer-approved solo umbrellas no rules would be necessary.

follow-ups are for losers

me and my sunnies: not five days after having bought them, I lost my latest pair of cheap sunglasses while browsing in le Mouton a Cinq Pattes two weeks ago. If you've never been to that store, it's pretty small, and I only stayed near the entrance, yet did not manage to find them after spending maybe 4 minutes in the shop. In turn I then bought an expensive pair of Ray-Ban which I haven't lost yet. Maybe this whole deal with the sunglasses was just a self-realizing prophecy. Just to be sure, I bought the same £5 pair at Marks again, to see if i could come up with a successful counter-reverse jinx strategy.

the footy charity tournament: I found out during the first practice that the tournament was to be held on a weekday for which I wouldn't be able to take some time off, so I didn't go to the subsequent practice sessions. I am hoping however for regular pickup games in Hyde Park once the weather remembers that it's the middle of May, not early March. Such was the case today, and it was great fun. And I even managed to hit up the British Museum afterwards, so that small brain of mine wouldn't feel left out. Okay, just for 30 minutes because they were closing, but just like in football, a victory's a victory, no matter how narrow. And I went there to meet with two girl interns I know from work, so you could say this was another manifestation of my theory at work. Damn you subconscious, you are so weak! Then again I'll be able to tell my grandma I went to the museum recently, so the end justifies the means I guess. Or whatever cliche fits this sort of situation.

sonic mood - 16/05/07

where have I been?: Andrew Bird
one and done: Linkin Park-Minutes to Midnight, Maps-We Can Create, Wilco-Sky Blue Sky
still going strong: Loney, Dear
blast from the past: French rap from the golden age (1997-2001)
next concert: Band of Horses @ Scala

find out more on my last.fm page

eenie-meenie-meinie-moe

besides the job itself there are many things that I enjoy about my new work environment, but one of the main ones has to be the proximity to multitudes of places to get lunch. I eat at my desk most days, have done so for a few years now (I find it's just more efficient, and see the time needed to go get the food as enough of a mental break before getting back to the grind), but at my previous workplace I only had a couple of places to choose from, which got very dull very quickly. Going to the same sandwich place every day probably played a part in my feeling restless and ready to move on (and the bland Issy Les Moulineaux area I was based in did not help matters much), which isn't that ridiculous a claim when you think about it.
Now I've got all the choice in the world, which doesn't guarantee that I change every day, but at least I exit my building most lunch breaks not knowing where I'll end up at. While my life isn't sad enough (yet?) for that fact to actually have me excited, overall it is a nice change. There's the typical (Pret, delis, Cafe Whatevers), the budget (Boots, Marks), the bad-bad-bad (KFC, Pizza Hut) and then there's Selfridge's Food Hall. Consisting of several food stands, from the pretty mundane Square Pie one to an oyster bar, there is no way you can enter it and not come out with something. Recently I've been trying out the Mediteranean section, where the shish tawouk is something special, and the organic section which does a killer berry juice smoothie. This being Selfridge's, the bill generally comes out pretty steep, but that's mostly because you're always tempted to get something extra. The other day I noticed they sold some French yogurts, and almost got some to stock in the fridge at work, as I've been very underwhelmed by the local yogurt situation so far. So whereas before I'd hesitate between the chicken salad and a chicken sandwich, comparatively now I feel like those little kids entering Willie Wonka's factory.

pheromoronic

speaking of men and women, has a guy ever successfully hooked up while wearing Axe deodorant? That is some pungent stuff, definitely not to be messed with (I mean that litterally). Kind of reminds me of Sex Panther now that I think of it ("it's made with bits of real panther, so you know it's good").

And it's not as if the commercials were getting any better. Witness this beaut which thanks to the TV 10 feet away from my desk (it really should be showing stock quotes or something, but for some reason it's always footy and cricket, not that I really mind) I've probably seen 44 billion times in the past few weeks:

a matter of trust

this morning the French intern who sits next to me came into work kind of limping, having apparently twisted her ankle during a basketball tournament that Saturday (she wasn't sure exactly what happened, except that when she got home it sort of hurt). Her ankle was swollen and she said it hurt a little. Since she only had a strapping to put on it, thus nothing to actually reduce the swelling, I proposed to go down to Boots and get her some proper anti-inflammatory gel. Having played a lot of basketball in years past, I've had my fair share of ankle twists and know how much they suck. For pretty much 90% of players I know (and myself) there's the initial injury, be it serious or not, then it's an endless series of infrequent incidents that show how fragile that ankle has become. Last year I even twisted my ankle pretty bad and limped around for 3-4 days after injuring it on the big bad floor...of the St Michel metro station. So I definitely related on a personal level to what this girl (who's pretty cool and I actually have gotten to know a little) was going through this morning, which made my offer all that more natural. But still you have to wonder how much motivation I would've shown if the person had been a large bearded dude and not a cute intern. It seems like in situations like these when as a guy you're able to provide comfort or protection to a girl, some kind of primal instinct ("I man, I protect tribe") takes over at least part of your decision-making, as though such an act was a way to prove your manliness. Which is pointedly absurd of course, but these things happen all the time, and I'm not sure we even realize it a tenth of the times. Heck I only thought of this because I was on the bus going home and thinking about what I could write about today. And, apart from at work, I tend to be pretty laid-back and not particularly alpha, so you have to think this sort of thing is quite prevalent. In these so-called post-feminist times there's often debates about the resiliency of sexism and the more subtle ways in which machismo still thrives, but I wonder where this sort of behavior would get classified. I definitely do not see it as an outright form of sexism (by virtue of playing on the imagery of women as weak) but more as evidence that these are never black-and-white issues, however curt some discussions on the matter might be. As for me all I can promise is that if I ever a bearded coworker dude I'm friends with twists his ankle, I'll make the same 3-min trip down to Boots and get him the anti-inflammatory gel he so rightfully deserves. That's what a real 21st century man would do, and I'd like to think I might one day be one of them and carry the torch of Rand-esque masculinity.

between the lines

they say only idiots never change opinions. In that case i must be some sort of genius, because I do it all the time. Take freebie newspapers for instance. Back in Paris I used to think they were kind of a disgrace, a shoddy excuse for articles which did not contain the sort of beyond-the-facts journalism found in establishment stalwarts like Le Monde, Le Figaro (*shudder*) or Liberation. Since their content would take you about 15 minutes to read on Yahoo! News I never saw the interest of reading them instead of a good book or a magazine, and definitely not a "real" newspaper.
And now that I've adopted a new commute in a new city, I have to admit that I'm not so gung-ho against the idea of freebies. Although in general their quality still leaves a lot to desire, they're not all that bad. I have to admit that The London Paper is very pleasant to read, if a tad hollow. It's very breezily written with mostly local news and some columns which add a lot of personality to take it beyond the taken-from-Reuters style those papers often have. But since it's distributed after 4pm, when you're on your way home, that's often the kind of content you are looking for anyway. As for the morning part of my commute, having only 5 Tube stops (on the Central line no less), I barely have time to read more than a few articles. So if I get Le Monde or The Guardian it means I have to split my reading between the morning ride, my lunch break and the bus trip back home. But by getting Metro I know I'll be able to get a bird's eye view of what's going on in the world. Or at least, the way it is seen from an average British newspaper's POV. So I alternate depending on my mood (and mental fatigue on the way to the station).
So although I haven't entirely changed my opinion on this matter, I now see these publications as being of some use for certain situations. They probably will never be on par with the venerable old guard of journalism, but if the two can find a way to co-exist (aka paid newspapers can find a way to keep existing) why not? It is my belief that reading, no matter what the material, makes people less dumb, and humanity potentially more secure. And yes, that includes the Sun too.

seeing things

some of the things I've noticed in the few months since moving to London:
- the flower print dresses + leggings look is more out of control than mogwais at a water park. And if you include all sorts of dresses or skirts, the phenomenon is surreal
- if someone bumps or brushes against you, they'll say "I'm sorry" afterward, but I very seldom hear someone say "excuse me" before making their move, however narrow a passage there might be
- people love talking about the weather in all social circumstances, be it with friends or strangers. But since said weather tends to change more often than a politician's opinions, it kind of makes sense. When I was in Toulouse, talking about the weather was generally a sign conversation had reached bottom-point ("sure is nice today, ain't it?" "it sure is"), but here it's often a pretty good conversation starter
- I see runners carrying around a backpack all the time, it's got me very intrigued. Especially in the morning: do these people run to work, and show up all sweaty and panting? Not to mention that, unless they live in zone 17, the workout benefits of such a habit aren't that extraordinary. Yet I see people like this every single day, so there must be a reason why so many of them take up the habit. This is probably the biggest mystery I've encountered so far, along with the proper use of "ta".
- people seldom talk about politics in public. This is possibly the biggest difference I've noticed with France, where the subject is broached about as frequently as the weather is here. Thankfully with the hordes of Frenchies roaming about one such conversation is never too far, like that one time in a loft party in Brick Lane where I found myself in a 3am vodka-fueled debate about Bayrou's merits with a downstairs neighbor. Good times.
- TM Lewin's special prices (4 shirts for 100, 2 ties for 60...) aren't that special, considering I've never seen them actually sell their stuff at non-sale prices. Does this make them the Wal Mart of luxury shirtmakers?
- when going to the corner pub after work on Thursday or Friday, you NEVER 'just get a beer before going home'. In fact merely pronouncing the statement while exiting your company's building condemns you to an evening of oddly-timed tequila shots, armies of pints, and the always-fun sudden noticing of female colleagues in a new light

when it's gone

because having a typically intense day at work can get boring, sometimes it's nice to spice it up with some unplanned mishap Today for me that was finding out someone had used my credit card to the tune of 2,000 euros over the week-end. The kicker? I never lost the card, it's actually sitting pretty (and useless since I had it cancelled) in my wallet. So some hacker got my number who knows how, and managed to withdraw some money in the US with it. Thankfully I checked my account today, and managed to spot the offense. After a good few phone calls and visit to the nearest police station I was able to send a simple letter to my bank letting them know about the incident, saying in effect "please sir, may I have my money back? I pinky swear it wasn't me".
Still the feeling out of this isn't a very pleasant one, and proof that when it comes to credit card fraud, there's no fool-proof system. Regularly checking your bank balance and operations is the only way to be sure nothing malicious has happened to you. And even then the repayment process can take up to a month, so you better not have an urgent need for that money.

a breathtaking view

stand up

first came the power lunch, then there was the power nap, and now, behold...the power shower.
This latest innovation in the field of multi-tasking is yet another shiny tool in the garden shed of skills of modern harried professionals. Where until now people were content to just stand in the shower letting water splash over them while at times using various types of cleaning products, this tremendous advancement for the cause of lost sleep puts you back in charge of your agenda. For instance on any given day I manage to shave, brush my teeth, clean my muscular hair and luscious body, with the whole thing never taking more than 8-10 minutes. Of course this feat is not for the weak of heart, as the first few times might require the kind of coordination that is not usually seen in the wee hours. But after a few broken bones and instances of after-shave smelling hair, you too will be able to make the most of your shower time, and never again have to endure the endless parade of sequential acts necessary to make you presentable before going out into the outside world. And the best part is that the power shower is highly customary, subject only to the bounds of your own imagination. Want to drink a Yakult before brushing your teeth? Sure, go right ahead! Fancy some chinups on the curtain bar? Alright, do me 20! Of course you should try to not get too carried away with the wonderful possibilities presented by this concept, as any shower longer than 10 minutes would not conceivably be in the realm of time-saving brilliance to enter that of shiftlessness and responsibility-shirking. But still, there are a great deal of things that can be accomplished in that time, and soon, you too will be able to extol the virtues of this revolution in workday preptime. The morning shower is dead, long live the morning shower!

so what now

after a campaign that seemed to go on forever (but don't they always), the centre-right candidate Nicolas Sarkozy, or Sarko as he is commonly known, was yesterday elected as president of France, winning the run-off against Socialist candidate Segolene Royal with an impressive 53.1% score. And now comes reality: Sarkozy is finally where his ambition pushed him to, the highest post in the national political ladder, giving him the ultimate opportunity to prove he can put the country back on track.
Many things aren't going well in France right now, especially on the economic front. One of the biggest problems I've noticed is how constant opposition to change is. There's always someone to point out the flaws in the government's plans or laws, and too often strikes to go along with it. While public criticism of government is part of the essence of democracy, the unreleting way with which it is done in France gives an overall feeling of stagnancy, of systemic obstacles whenever the country needs to adapt to a new context. Unfortunately the best at this game seem to be the socialist, and the left in general. I say unfortunately because I believe they should incarnate a positive current of propositions, constantly adapting and trying to bring economic progress without too hard of a social impact. Instead they tend to live in the old ideology of the 60s, if not way before, using obsolete terms like "the rich" over and over again. I consider myself a left-leaning voter, if only based on my record, but I found Mrs Royal so vague on many of her positions, particularly the economic ones, that I sort of felt I had no choice but to vote for her opponent. I might not live in France anymore, but it doesn't mean I want to see it keep losing pace in the global economy, even while I'd like it to retain its social values. Vague optimism is okay when you're running for middle-school class president, but in this case the stakes are too high to keep things fuzzy. Of course because this is the country of drama some Royal supporters are acting indignant, comparing Mr Sarkozy to Bush, Putin, and even a nazi (I wish I were kidding but I heard this comparison with my own ears). But all that doesn't really matters now. Barring a surprise socialist win at the upcoming assembly elections, Sarko will have the mandate he wants. And what he does with it is what matters, not all the inconsequential things we might have heard during the past few months.

two days of bliss

one of the reasons I wanted to get away from Paris was that I felt I might grow to resent being there. I never reached that state, but I felt it might not be far off. So it was very cool to feel excited about my return there this weekend, seeing friends again and generally enjoying the city for how great it is. Skype is cool, but it just doesn't compare to catching up with a buddy during a 20-minute bus ride on the way to your favorite bar. Plus you don't even have to wear a ridiculous bluetooth headset, that's always a plus.

Two random highlights from the weekend:
- during one family lunch we had asparagus as appetizers. One of them was particularly massive, which prompted me to utter this brilliant morsel of punnery: "man, that's a MEGASPARGUS". I really should copyright that one. And make t-shirts or something. And definitely not post about it on the Internet.
- at the Bensimon store I wanted to know where the fitting rooms were, so I walked to a salesperson, asked her my question as she was looking at me...except she didn't say anything, just lingered there like I'd just uttered the most boring thing in the universe (which wasn't that far from the truth, but still), then went away a few seconds later. I guess she just didn't want to deal with my pathetic questions. Aaaahh, Parisian girls, sometimes you just warm my heart (except not really, but some of you are really hot in that aloof attitude of yours)

this one ends with a pun

amazingly, I'd forgotten how much fun working 13 intense hours on 5 hours of drunken sleep could be. I'm actually half-serious about this: you know when you enjoy these situations that you're in the correct corporate setting. Sure, the red bull on the way to work is still necessary, but mentally it's good to have these situations to keep your routine self on your toes. It's weird to actually have that motivation to go to work in the morning, and not be living through it as a chore. After 3+ years at my previous job that was the mindset I was tending to, without necessarily realizing it, so to have that "hunger" back provides me with equal amounts of excitement and surprise. Although part of me likes to wallow in contentedness like an overweight hippo, I try to keep that feeling to a minimum, so as to not have any regrets, at least when it comes to my professional life. So right here, right now, definitely feels to me like I am exactly where I should be.
Still, there's a 3-day weekend coming up that sounds just about right. I might have to pop back in the office for a couple of hours Monday, but the forecast for the weekend should be very mellow. It's all gonna be about seeing friends and family, putting in my vote, and eating some ridiculously good bread. Because although enjoying your job is key to finding some measure of happiness, those periodic breaks are what makes it really work.

everybody loves free money

in preparation for yesterday's crucial semi-final Champion's League game between my beloved Liverpool Reds and local super-team Chelsea, I made a £50 wager with a good friend (who I happen to work with now) that my team would go through. The good guys having won, I happily collected on the bet this morning and started to wonder what good deeds I could enact with the loot. But, although I never bet on sports, I quickly formented a scheme was to play these winnings on tonight's game between AC Milan and Manchester United. So I went to a betting shop during my lunch break and placed a £50 bet on Milan going through, with 6/5 odds. Not surpisingly I won the wager (I mean, Milan at home needing to win just 1-0? Half the team could come down with mono and they could still do it handily) since Milano won 3-0. Thus in two days I made £110 pounds as a total bonus. As Emmanuel Kant might say, "Ka-ching baby!". Then again in London £110 won't get you very far, so instead of doing something wasteful like buying a pair of fancy sunglasses I think I'll just stick this windfall on my savings account and wait the pennies to roll in. Who said easy money doesn't exist?

a mouthful of bread

for some people periodically losing their personal effects isn't just a temporary annoyance, it's a way of life. Keys, cell-phones and small children are, for them, just things waiting to be stressed over when they turn up missing again and again. Thankfully I've been spared this particular trait for the most part. Sure I lost or forget stuff now and then, like the time not too long ago when I went to the gym keyless and came home in shorts and flip-flops under the rain only to find myself locked out of an empty house, leading me to have to break into my own place. But overall this is not a problem for me. Except when it comes to sunglasses. Sunnies are the one item I keep losing again and again (and again). On average I probably have to buy a couple of pairs a year, if not more. Consequently I've resigned myself to buying only cheap models, generally from street vendors (no knock-offs though, that's tacky) or discount stores.

A few years back, when earning a monthly salary still felt like a pleasant novelty, I decided to splurge and got myself a pair of Hugo Boss that I could wear to work. They cost a little over 100 euros, and were definitely quite nice. Of course three weeks later they had vanished to whatever vortex where these things go to and I sheepishly had to buy a new pair from the guy near the rue de Rennes/Bd Montparnasse corner. Since then this losing trend has continued unabated, and I have stuck to my stingy philosophy on this matter. Just a couple of days ago, while at Selfridge's during my lunch break (never a good idea, even for a casual shopper like myself) I got to admiring their various models. A pair of Ray-Bans, in particular, caught my eye (pun very much intended). But in the end I slowly backed out of there, stopped by Marks next door and copped a £5 pair. Maybe this will be the pair I keep for more than a year, but I'm not getting my hopes up. Let's face it, all those sunnies I've lost have got to have been found by someone eventually, so in a way this habit of mine kinda makes me a secret Santa of sorts. And if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that there can never be too many Santas in this sunny world of ours.