It’s killing me not being able to post more about the Em & Lo show, but as soon as it airs on June 5th in the UK, I’ll be able to post lots more pics and some video. Doing so beforehand will get me relegated to the couch at night. Maybe worse.

In the meantime, I can show a few shots from around the studio, and say in general that the girls appear to be knocking it out of the park. Everyone at talkback Thames (the production company) and Channel 5 (the broadcaster) are thrilled. Emma and Lorelei have been learning how to read from teleprompters, getting coached by one of the top TV host consultants, and basically adding a whole new skill-set to their brand. I can’t wait to see the final result.

On the first day of shooting in the studio, Evie and I stopped by Emma’s dressing room, where Evie was stunned by all the lit mirrors.

While Evie works on her camera face (it’s original, but maybe a touch too starey), we’re eagerly awaiting her mom’s first appearance as a TV host.

We went down to Brighton on the last day of this trip to England. Em & Lo were filming some outdoor segments for the TV show, so Joey and I came along to take care of the little ones.

Here’s Evie, missing some of England’s finest countryside on our 90-minute train ride from London. I was thinking, if we’d missed our flight to England altogether and camped out in the parking lot at Newark International Airport for the past three weeks, as far as she’s concerned there would’ve been no difference at all.

As for Brighton, my expectation of the English seaside was that it would be overcast and chilly, with piles of rocks here and there along the beach. I was close, but instead of there being piles of rocks, the beach was actually just that: rocks. Here I am running my fingers through the sand.

It was a stark and beautiful setting, though. I enjoyed the gloominess and desolation of the place.

Fortunately, it wasn’t entirely desolate. Em & Lo were able to convince a few brave beachgoers to take part in their show.

A gaggle of French teens stopped throwing rocks at seagulls for a few minutes, and looked on as a two of their classmates took part in the shenanigans. I’m not allowed to reveal too much before the show airs, but the shenanigans involved a French maid outfit (or perhaps in this case, as it was worn by a Frenchwoman, it might simply be called a maid outfit—I’m not sure.)

I maintained a safe distance, as there’s nothing like a baby crying in the background to make a sound man go apeshit.

After a few successful hours on the rocks, the TV crew moved inland to a great little café district. Here there was a much steadier stream of willing participants. This part of Brighton reminded me of some combination of Key West and the East Village. (Note the three successive organic cafés in the first shot.)

By all accounts, the shooting in Brighton was a great success.

I’ve skipped over some significant moments, though, where early in the morning I forgot Evie’s bottles and all of the breast milk in the car on the way to the London train station, then bought the wrong kind of bottle (twice) at the pharmacy in Brighton, and subsequently dealt with a hungry, exhausted, hysterical Evie, who screamed for several hours straight. I kept wanting to move cafés to start fresh with a new batch of fellow patrons, but it was no use. The worm had turned, as Emma says, and as the cameras rolled outside, Evie was inside, shrieking holy hell while people sipped their organic soups.

At last, Evie gave me a short break, by which point I was in a mood. Joey found the whole affair incredibly amusing, as his little girl Elliette was an absolute dream for the entire day. (Then again, he didn’t leave all of her bottles and milk behind in London.) Here’s me with a tiny Winston Churchill popping up at the bottom of the frame.

So, Evie won’t remember any of Brighton, but she tried her best to see that Brighton will remember her.

I’ve been using Apple Computers since around 1983. The very first Mac came out when I was in 7th grade. I took an after-school job at a store on Pico in L.A. called Computerland, working just long enough to buy a Mac with my Computerland 30% discount and my $3.65/hour wage. I’ve probably bought at least 15 Macs since then, as well as numerous iPods, and hopefully soon, an iPhone.

The problem is, Apple gear, though beautifully designed, is crappily made. In my experience, it’s been completely unreliable. Not the old stuff—the Apple II Plus I had in 6th grade is probably still going somewhere—but the newer stuff: iPods, Powerbooks… they all stop working well before they ought to, sometimes in their first year. Both iPods I bought were kaput within 6-8 months. I had one newish Powerbook die on me right as we were about to give a presentation to an early-days YouTube. Not good.

The crazy thing? I only want more Apple products. If this happened with any other brand, I’d be furious and swear off the brand for life. For some inexplicable reason, with Apple, I keep coming back for more. Something is very wrong with me.

So, short story long here, my un-trusty Powerbook (the fourth one I’ve owned) has died on me. The backlight is apparently shot, according to Apple phone support. I was planning on posting a bunch of blog posts and pics from England, but I’m now left working on borrowed computers. Borrowed Apple computers of course—machines that will surely break down well before their time, too.

The good news is, my Powerbook is still under warranty, so I’ll have it back (or a new one) very soon, and will be able to resume posting more regularly. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can post without the use of my favorite piece of beautiful, crappy technology. Thanks for bearing with me….

Evie spent the first few minutes of her first plane trip trying out various high decibel, high frequency screams. Emma and I tried in vain to calm her, flashing the occasional apologetic smile toward our neighboring passengers. We’d only just started taxiing, and the flight was already shaping up to be a nightmare.

Just as we left the ground, however, the rumbling of the engines and the slight rocking movements of the plane calmed her instantly.

The flight attendants suspended a little cot from the bulkhead, and Evie proceeded to sleep for pretty much the entire 7-hour flight. If I had any sense, I’d probably have slept too, but I was too tired to have any sense, so I stayed up all night watching movies and making myself even more tired and less sensible. (It’s worth noting that they had all three Godfather movies, No Country for Old Men and Spinal Tap.)

Evie maintained this exact expression for a good eight or nine hours…

… culminating in a very startled meeting with her UK grandparents, who surprised us at Heathrow to celebrate Evie’s first time on British soil. Everybody but Evie was thrilled.