Did you hear an Echo?

You don't realise how important it is to be able to feel your top lip until you can't anymore.

I'm told it's temporary, but thanks to some jaw surgery I had about two weeks ago, the nerves in my lip and part of my right cheek are "distressed". In fact, they're totally freaked out, and I can't feel a thing. It has led to some gross situations that I would rather not talk about. But hey, if you notice my nose running, tell me, because I have no idea.

I'm still swollen. I look like a cross between the Nutty Professor and Finding Nemo. And to make matters worse, my hair - in desperate need of a cut - is about three days from turning into a mullet. Sure, the 80s are coming back, but mullets? You have to draw the line somewhere.

Oh - some exciting and almost completely unrelated news: That newspaper I do, SAGE, has been renamed ECHO (I don't know) and is going to appear in The Sunday Age on March 6. (Radio ads will start soon - tell me if you hear one.) Twenty four glorious pages - most of which still need to be finished. In fact, I'm trying to write the editor's note right now. How do you write to 18 year olds without sounding like a total try hard?

Anyway, you're all ordered to buy every copy of The Sunday Age that you see on March 6 and wallpaper your walls with them in my honour. Got it? I'm serious, you know. House inspections will begin on March 7. If a guy with a mullet turns up at your place, you'll know it's me.

Peace out,
Puff Benny