D'oh! It looks like I've been drinking moron juice again. No, I didn't get drunk last night, in fact, I think I was the only sober person there (only because I had to get home by a rapidly failing PT system that would require my wits about me) but rather because I'm over tired (three hours sleep max) and over dehydrated (105,000 folks and ten portaloos, not pretty) so I'm making stupid mistakes.
Which is of course, just what I need.
Okay, my weekend, ladies and gentlemen. It starts on a long, long Friday and a late evening meeting where I'm told my position has been abolished and the remaining position will be advertised externally and the guys who used to have it are applying and preferred (complete with secret meetings with supervisors) so that's that then. In the meantime, here's this mountain of work we'd like you to finish for us before we trash you without benefits (today I find myself swinging between wanting to work like a demon and prove them wrong and wanting to go 'fuck it' and surf for pretty pictures).
Meanwhile varina8 has been talking up David Bowie and I think she wanted me to go so we could compare notes and she was very bubbly and infective, but the tickets were close to two hundred dollars and as I was a very tired, fed up and distressed misery guts, and a soon to be stoneybroke and homeless miseryguts and a heat stressed miseryguts (worst heatwave on record) I went home instead to Thai, Stargate and the comforting embrace of Robson Green and melty chocolates.
It was another seriously weird Wire in the Blood, all evil priests, witch burnings and gorgeous old cathedrals and it looked seriously X files until we realised, phew, it was all seen from the delusional POV of this week's nutter, this time an insane thirtysomething history nut with delusions of martydom (oops, grin). Robson was marvellous and I love the bit at the end where he tells them not to even bother trying to negotiate with the fruitcake. Heh. It was so bottom line realistic.
I also really loved the 500 year old heretics being dug up, all buried north outside the parish lines. It was like when Meet the Ancestors goes bad. Magic. And Robson, sweetie, thanks, I needed a couple of hour's escape.
Then it was Glasshouse instead of Minder (next week I think I'll chose Minder) and then LadyHawke and then Hart's War - well, it was too hot to sleep.
Saturday was what was left of my four grain toast (family had discovered it) for breakfast during Wild Wild West. It was very David Lynch again. I wonder if he was ever a fan?
After that it was work, work work til sunset. I made a salami, tomato and rocket pizza, and saw a few moments of Andromeda. It had Chris Potter in it, and no, he couldn't keep his clothes on :D
I'd been looking forward to a nice night of Smallville and melty chocolates, but, damn you, EvilChannelNine. In spite of advertising it, Smallville has been yanked off, and we're not even halfway through S2 yet. Arrrgh. Roll on the dvd releases.
Good old Aunty though was true to her word ad served up the delightfully wicked Stephen Fry and Ewan McGregor on Parkinson. Luverly.
After that it was SVU and a Cary Grant fillum I'd not seen before, but set in the late forties, indeed, they mentioned the war being over several times, and featuring young boys in the tightest silk shorts you'll see outside of Mardi Gras. And to be honest, Cary seemed more interested in the high school Jock than either the younger or elder sister vying for his attention. Amusing.
Sunday was toast and WWW again, this time again revolving around Second Empire France (one of the scriptwriters must have a real jones for it), then I went out. Yes, out.
I might not be able to afford concert tickets, but I can afford Tropfest, which was free, a picnic and bus fare there and back and besides, I'd won a free folding canvas chair from the Movie Network and it was very swish and comfy and much admired. I wasn't quite sure what sort of chair I'd won, or whether it was just a seat somewhere, but no, it was my very own perfect picnic chair with carry bag and everything. Yay me.
It was a hot, sunburny muggy day but I had fun, the picnic was fun, and the films were great. No painfully worthy social comment crap here, just some really lovely or darkly wicked and bloody hysterical pieces, all very Oz. I loved it. I had lotsa fun*.
I don't think anyone does short film festivals like we do. Instead of dreary shorts in some stuffy old theatre, we had brilliantly funny flicks in a park with picnics and rugs and people crammed in everywhere, costumes, street theatre and, well, fun.
Unfortunately during the last flick, the clouds which had blown up and hovered heavily overhead suddenly split open and people scattered like cockroachs. Even more unhappily I had an hour's wait in the pouring rain for my bus but it showed up and I got home okay.
Unfortunately AP hadn't told me she'd hired a painter to redo the front of the house I'd painted, which I thought was holding up well, and had shifted all the heavy pots out of the way so it's all my fault because I was out having fun and not home to help, how dare I, so all my fun turned to ashes and I felt miserable and upset that my work is to be destroyed (in everything and on every level it seems, as though I am being erased) and now she can tell everyone how I wasn't there to help when I could have done it on Friday or Saturday had she told me. Arrrgh.
That'll learn me for having fun. I promise I won't do it again.
So today I started off tired, miserable, cranky and chronically stupid. Had a bit of a weep when no one else was in but now it's stiff upper lip time, dash it all. I'm not happy, you know. I think I'll go and cull some lists. I really should devote what little free time I have to writing.
The other sad news is of some local urban terrorism, to wit, some arsehole bought the house up the road and immediately initiated a scorched earth policy so there there is a dusty brown crater where once there was life, including the largest and most gorgeous deep golden yellow hibiscus that I absolutely adored. It's loss hit me like a kick in the guts and I'm very upset. Sure, it was just a plant, but the most amazing colour yellow I'd ever seen and, unlike some folks I know, I was always happy to see it. Bummer.
Happy news, today's icon was made for me, special like, by Cyc. It fits, can't argue with that :D
Nearest book to you:
Enhancing Your Applications with Variables and If-Then statements
Nearest cd insert:
W drive backup
Nearest piece of paper that you wrote on:
Tulip Fever, s-lips.htm, adult.htm
Nearest piece that was written to you:
This is how the western_index page should look (remove pink text once links are established).
Something on your desk:
My little red Buddha.