Three cheers for Farscape - because it's the only thing keeping me sane right now. Thankgoodness for Farscape, and the fact that it's on just about every second day. Yes, EvilChannelNine has deigned to screen it once more, this time at the semi-civilised hour of 10.30 pm, which nicely coincides with the conclusions of Cinder's chores for the day, and, heavens, they're not cutting it.
At least, not that I noticed. This was a pivotal season three episode but one I'd only seen piecemeal on Fox8 due to being working at that hour. Yes, yes, it's on my dvd to do list. Anyways, so we've got poor John discovering his double is dead, a grieving Aeryn giving him the cold shoulder, the usual violence and muppet sex. Third time round I really enjoyed it. Trust John, and only John, to have a crappier time than me. Aw, poor Johnny. Come here and let me kiss it better.
Well, I can dream, can't I? :D
Before that was my favourite episode of Without a Trace where the two very pretty boys go to California together. Imagine my displeasure at being made to miss 60% of it. Grumble, swear, stamping of feet. Still, I managed to enjoy fifteen minutes or so of my boys, including a walk along the beach. Ah, young FBI agents in lurrrrve.
So much better when it's light on the Jack/Sam, even though it's vaguely unpatriotic of me to say so.
My other best boy was also on hand to cheer me up when it was most needed (and he has the knack, the dear boy). Yep, a sweet, young and tender Colin Farrell in American Outlaws. He's such a darling.
Last night I resolved to enforced cheerfulness, but then the xmas letters I'd spent all afternoon writing out at work (ahem) I left carefully on the table while I went off to burn the cds to go with them.
When I returned they'd been tidied up and thrown out with the night's rubbish. Now this is staggering because when I cleaned off the corner of the table for resting crap on the other week there was stuff that had been there, well, let's just say a while. No, now, now they have to get into the tidy spirit. Ack. I was so furious I just posted my cards sans letters. In fact I'm pretty sure I forgot to write anything in the cards, so if you get a blank card from me, just write a cheerful greeting in yourself and write it off as muggins here having another bad night.
I try, I really do. Perhaps it's the trying too hard that's making me so bloody miserable. My xmas is going to be crap no matter what and fighting against the tide is just making me all hot and cranky like a teething infant. Slap me and tell me, again, that even if my house was Vogue worthy folks'd still find fault with it, and this running about like a bad tempered headless chicken trying to impose order on chaos is just crazy making.
Maybe I should just watch Roswell again. I love Isabel as the xmas nazi. She makes me look sane - just. I suspect she has the same motivations I do - just wanting one, just one, little slice of 'normality' and trying to move heaven and earth to get it. It's like an eating disorder, trying to exert control over one tiny part of your life, when all else is tossed at sea.
I guess that's why they write comedy episodes about it. The perfect xmas can never be achieved, and the quest will drive you mad.
Well, that was actually quite a decent office xmas lunch. It was the usual byo plate in a conference room deal, but certainly one of the better ones, with a great spread and lots of people to actually talk to. Shame most of us are leaving. Oh, and I was holed up in the corner with one particular friend and she's much more Cinderella than I am, so I am chastened - plus the mutual venting did us the world of good. We had cakes and were happy. So sad that three weeks sans certain managers can have us skipping with glee. We've also decided the reason we lurk in the corners is traumatic kindergarten xmas party experiences. Well, we'd both had broken crayon type experiences and we're still in the corners at parties. Never mind. Good food, good conversation. Can this be the same place?