It rained all Friday, and happily, Saturday, too. This meant no painting of walls, no heavy gardening and no washing and hanging out of clothes. Wheeee! Of course, by rights the wekend should have then involved indoor jobs, of which there are many, but I played the sick card (though folks remained unimpressed and sceptical) and slept in, lounged about catching up on over a week's worth of papers and watched some tv.
I swear this flu is man made. How else can you explain the intense chocolate cravings that hit at least once daily. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, I'm no stranger to the odd chocolate craving, but this wasn't the gentle "I wouldn't say no to a bit of chocolate" urge that can be usually overcome with strict discpline and denial, but deep in the bones cravings. Chocolate. Now.
So I ended up doing lines of chocolate, that is, grating and grinding up a chocolate bar, melting it into hot milk and drinking the results through a straw. Lovely. Almost kills the cravings, almost. It'd be fun to do it with chocolate santas, you know, grind him up from the feet first: "Ho, ho, ho this you fat bastard. Think you can put me on your naughty list and I'm just going to sit there and take it?"
Ahem. Bro thinks I've been watching way too much Law & Order lately.
Meanwhile I'm struck with a sudden craving for cocopops. Damn.
Telly watching included Roswell and Streets of San Francisco and Stargate. Heard the echoes and roars of Englishmen just over the hill (now we know what the Romans heard before battle). Damn, Susan will be even more impossible to live with than usual.
Sunday was rainy too and all the magpies sat under the shed, ranged in order on the ladder, looking utterly bored and miserable. We had two crimson rosellas in the front yard and one rainbow lorikeet brought her pudgy baby down, using him as a prop to beg food. It's an oldie but a goodie, and it works.
Scheduled an afternoon program that hung around the very early 80s this week, featuring some bands who've just released dvds and Raiders of the Lost Ark. It was one of the first films I'd ever seen in a theatre, and it remains one of my very favourite, though all the bits that have since been parodied detracted from it a little. Certainly Mr Whedon has given it a spin or three in his time, not to mention the Simpsons and South Park piss takes, et al. Had no idea Anthony Higgins played Second Nazi. Well, there you go (and when, oh when, will Eagle of the Ninth be released on dvd?).
I don't really have to recap the plot, do I? Sufficed to say it was thoroughly enjoyed, especially with hot chocolates. The bit with the Nazi with the imprint on his hand always amuses, ever since mother bade me to fetch metal kitchen tongs from a hot plate I didn't know was on. I swear I have 'made in Japan' burned into my palm in reverse. Bro felt the scene with the spiders was strangely reminescent of me sending him in to clean out the shed.
I also admire the restraint of the Stargate gang for not going the staff of Ra until season six. Certainly lots of Raiders has ended up in Buffy and it really set the template for Relic Hunter. We could have commented on the fillum being a metaphor for current events, with a certain nation cast as the Nazis, but we won't, because it was just too much silly fun. It has Nazis, old tombs, natives with blow darts, what more could I want?
Of course, the moment Sallah came on I suddenly remembered I was supposed to be at a con, damn it. Oh well, not to worry. I think I've had enough of cons to last a lifetime and the strain of trying to pretend it's no big deal when you're blown off by so called friends has taken its toll. My attempts at dignity are showing definite cracks.
This is the problem when I have really bad turns like Friday (once only every couple of years or so, now monthly, seems like), I end up with bad sectors. This'd be okay if I just lost Jam albums 1979-1983. I mean, it wouldn't be okay, but I could deal. But no, I have to lose important stuff like the day's date, what I'm supposed to be doing on the weekend and what I'm supposed to be doing today, and how to do it. I hate my life. Oh yeah, the Doc just thinks I'm a hysterical female in desperate need of a husband. How is a man supposed to help? In my experience, they just make everything so much worse - insert Anya rant here.
Telly watching included Streets, Stargate and a crap flick featuring Sam Neill and Rob Lowe of all people. I don't know, I just don't see Rob and Sam in a film together, ever, yet there they were, and it was disturbingly slashy, too. Made me squirm. After that I started watching From Hell but fell asleep, drat it.
Today it is absolutely pissing down. Rain, I'm over it. No solar eclipse either. Typical. Any time it's something cool, it rains. Like, we've had no rain for months, but today I can't see across the road. Bloody effing typical. And now that the eclipse has passed, it's starting to clear. Arrrgh.