Here in Australia, the land of "no worries, she'll be right mate", we've been glued to radio JJJ's Hottest 100 of all time and the final countdown in Network Ten's reality show, Master Chef.
I breathed a sigh of relief when Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit and Jeff Buckley's version of the Leonard Cohen masterpiece Hallelujah topped the JJJ poll in first and second place respectively. But I am puzzled that an ordinary tune from Rage Against The Machine, Killing in the name, came in at number 3.
It just shows there's lots of Resch's drinking bogans out there with nothing better to do (that's the GFC for you) than cast multiple votes for their fave beer-swilling, head-banging anthems. Boring.
However, I was happy that Joy Division's ode to self-harm Love will tear us apart was number 4. I still clearly recall laying in the foetal position on a flea-infested lounge listening to Transmission back-to-back with Morrison Hotel in a share-house in the early '80s. Happy days.
But now I'm approaching senility, Masterchef Australia hits all the right buttons.
The show is rating off its crispy-skinned bottom. The contestants are cooking up a storm for the chance to win $100,000, a cookbook deal and something else (can't remember, but it's good).
It's an excellent show, but the irony is that most Australians barely know how to barbecue a snag and the idea of good night out is *Macca's, a bucket of KFC (yep, that's sort of like chicken) or Subway for something healthier.
Still, this week I'll be rooting for my favourite contestants - Julie (I have a feeling she'll be booted off), Justine with the big cow eyes, Julia and Poh.
That leaves the two boring male competitors. Can't remember the first one, but Spanner likes Chris. I think he's an arrogant Melburnian (what else is new?) who can only cook a lump of meat. Give him anything complicated and he falls apart.
It's a man thing.
*G'day to any Americans reading this. You will feel right at home when visiting our lovely country