Avatar and the distressing burning sensation story

I finally got to see Avatar on Friday. After four weeks and numerous failed attempts due to the cinema being booked out, I pre-booked tickets online and was IN.

So what did I think (I know you're all CLAMOURING to know)?

Well, yeah, it was OK. I probably enjoyed it about as much as I thought I was going to, but I have no real desire to see it again at the cinema or when it comes out on DVD. I think I looked at it more as a wonderful technical achievement rather than a riveting movie, particularly as I saw the 3D version. It was like a showreel for all the wonderful things you can do with CGI these days (particularly when you've forced your audience to wear glasses that make them look like a Roy Orbison appreciation society), which thankfully was quite a lot because the plot was a bit on the thin side and the film nudges three hours in length. That said, I did think some of the effects were noticeably CGI-y, which did take me out of the narrative a bit and make me think that I was watching something akin to Toy Story in the woods.

The plot, as I said, was stretched a smidgeon tight and I kind of lost interest a bit towards the end where it just descends into a huge ruck, particularly as I saw the 3D version and it all gets a bit confusing when loads of things are exploding and flying towards your head. I found it to be more effective earlier on when Soldier Sam was integrating himself in to the blue people village (I'm sorry, I genuinely can't be arsed to Google the correct spelling of their name) and falling in love with the CGI Uhura, although I did feel this all happened a wee bit too fast; Dances with Wolves it was not, but at least in these genteel scenes you got to appreciate the 3D effect rather than dodging out of the way when an explosion flung a gangly blue man out of the screen at you.

My biggest complaint was undoubtedly how heavy-handed it was. Yes, we get the idea it's an analogy for environmental concerns as well as the whole messy Iraq/Afghanistan situation, but we don't constantly need it forced down our throats (which is almost doable in 3D), particularly by one-dimensional characters like Colonel Caricature; James Cameron clearly thought that if subtlety couldn't be rendered in CGI it had no place in his film.

All in all, though, I'm glad I've seen it. For the most part it was diverting enough, and I would probably watch it when it comes on the telly at some point. I am not, however, clinically depressed by the fact I can't go and live on Pandora. Because that's just ridiculous.

Would William Shatner like to contribute something?

(If, however, you want to Na'vi-up and paint yourself blue, just watch this disturbing video to find out how)

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I'm always intrigued by how people find my blog, and as such my sitemeter data is a constant source of fascination. Just this last week, for instance, I discovered that writing a post with the words 'porn-star' in the title can lead to all manner of visitors stopping by, and even lead to your humble little entry and a picture of your magnificent moustache being listed on a porn star celebrity news page between articles on 'Exclusive: Celebrity Porn Star Calls Tila Tequila’s Bluff' and 'What's a Porn Star to Do When the Industry's Cashflow Dries Up? Turn to 1-on-1 Fan Meetings.'

(Incidentally, you can vote for me - I don't know for what purpose, but I just did because I like the idea of winning things even if they are excessively porny. OK, especially if they are excessively porny)

Anyway, one of the most memorable search terms used to find my blog over the last year was 'what happens if I put Tiger Balm on my cock?' That particular Googler was undoubtedly left unsatisfied by his visit, because while I had written about Tiger Balm, I had not written about putting it … well, *there*.

For those who don't remember, after my car accident last year I was told by my doctor to buy some Tiger Balm, a potent little cream that, when applied to sore muscles causes them to heat up to a temperature something like that only found on the surface of the sun. I hated the sensation at first, but truth be told I grew to rather like it over time. I suspect in that respect it's a little bit like morphine.

Back to the present. I went to yoga on Thursday evening after work, and just minutes into the class I felt a teeny-tiny little bit of discomfort in my back. It wasn't enough to make me stop yoga-ing, nor was it enough to make me howl in pain like a wounded Na'vi (OK, I caved and Googled it). I could, however, feel it throughout the rest of the class.

Upon returning home I decided that I'd do my utmost to nip this pain in the bud because I didn't want it impinging on my Saturday yoga class, nor cause me any pain during the Avatar screening (because I suspected, rightly so as it turned out, that various parts of the film would be painful enough as it was). So, I reached for the Tiger Balm, scooped a big dollop onto my fingers, and applied it to the area on my back that was twinging. Then I washed my hands - with soap - to remove all traces of it.

As it turns out, I did not remove all traces of it. And unfortunately, my next action was to, um, go number ones. For the ladies out there who may not be familiar with how sophisticated chaps such as my good self go number ones, it generally involves holding, um, a certain something so as to avoid spraying the floor, walls, and potentially the ceiling, with pee-pee.

A minute later I was curled up in the foetal position on my bed, rocking like I was on the Sunshine Bus and begging The Almighty to take the pain away. The Almighty, as it turns out, was not available to take the pain away, and I subsequently had to endure 15 minutes of penis-searing pain before I could come anywhere remotely close to unclenching my legs.

So the moral of this story, dear unidentified and curious Googler, is this: whether intentionally or not, you really don't want to be putting Tiger Balm on your cock. It hurts.