Toga! Toga! Toga! There were togas au go go in Relic Hunter last night, total toga party. Fortunately Nigel opted for a more sensible senator's ensemble (toga praetexta), rather than a gladiator's netball skirts, thus sparing me even more pale English thighs. I mean, a girl can only take so much of a good thing, you know? I'm in toga overkill already and the damn films are all still in production. Oh dear...
Farscape was "Die Hard meets Honey I Shrunk The Hostages", as Johhny Boy aptly described it, and all rather silly for such a serious plot development. I ended watching it in two halves, the first before I passed out in front of the telly and the second as I got ready for work this morning. Crichton really carries the show because as daft as it gets at times, he's always good value. I really loved Rygel's speech about being old enough to know a fact when it slapped him in the face. It was a great speech about age and wisdom, in a strange context, stomping on SF naysayers as it was. So, off to spooky space go our gang. Why, it sounded just like the premise for Enterprise's season finale. Cough-ripoff-cough. I assume Farscape came first, though I saw it second.
Well, it was another seahunt of a day, and a long one at that, though it had one small benefit: I was working back so late that I rang to stay I'd be missing dinner, again, and asked that some leftovers be thrown in a bowl. An hour later I get a call to say that dinner was thrown out (minor disaster) and to pick up some Thai on the way home. Heh.
That's how Thai Fridays started. I always have to work back late and, rather than face indigestable microwaved goop at the end of a shocking day, I decided to treat myself to some Thai takeaway. Pretty soon it was Thai for all. Heh.
At least it was still light when I got home so I could feed the birds. They're getting too damn tame and cheeky again. I missed the Who though, damn, and apparently some aliens (Sensorites) with some real visible panty line issues. Giggle.