Life is like a box of chocolates: well past it's use by date and full of weird, hard lumpy things.
Ack. A-- has missed her calling, she should have been a writer of those confounding cookbooks. You know the ones, where you get up to step eight and it says "but first" or "marinate overnight" and you go "arrrrgh".
Well, she's like that. I'm zipping along, putting in my own alt tags as she'd not mentioned any, then I get to the end of the 120+ pages of instructions/updates she sent me and there, my friends, at the very back, is a list of alt tags. Now I've got to go back over the 120 or so pages and go find 'em. Whimper.
Chin up, old girl, we are finishing Dad's work afterall. What, I hear you cry, you mean you're working for the very evil organisation responsible for the death of your father? Well, sort of, yes (sheepish grin). And you didn't think it might be soul destroying? Well, frankly, no. Mother had always called my father a weak and feeble man, but he stood thirty years of being rubbed down to a nub before being tossed out on his arse in a restructure. I lasted not even three. If my father was weak, then I am a runny sago pudding like creature compared to him, cause I tell ya, this place is evil, they do evil and my soul has burnt away like cinders in a fireplace. I can't even write any more. Not a word.
Wolfram and Hart, eat your pathetic little whiny whitebread hearts out.
Watched a bit of Xena in passing (Ares was shirt free) as I pottered about, that's it. Went to bed early, despite having Byron to watch, because I was soooo tired. I still am, but never mind. The quiet life for me this week, I should think. Had weird dreams involving elephants, Egypt, escaltors, hair pulling, and Simon Templar did a guest spot at one stage. Sometimes I even weirdout myself :D
And you know you've been watching too many bargain bin dvds when your dreams involve bad model shots and b/w stock footage. I dream in cheap FX! Mr Mac will be so pleased, as he once asked me to try and write as though I didn't have Speilberg's budget. Sage advice. Too bad Mr Mac can't have a word or two in the ear of George Lucas.
Ever notice how bad food is warm, and diet food is cold? I wanted something hot, because I'm cold, and the only thing on offer was a meat pie that has seen better days, which is about as bad as you can get, according to the food puritans. Salads and sushi are blocks and blocks away and I'm simply not in the mood. A hot cuppa will have to suffice, sigh. Dammit, what does a girl have to do to get a simple cheese and tomato toasted sandwich in this backwards town? No, don't answer that.
I'm still surprised at how much fun I had at Tropfest. I remember when shorts used to equal pain and loathing and they were all like that Barney Gumble short, only more intense and more with the experimental German expressionism.
That, I think, is the beauty of Tropfest. The films aren't made for a couple of completely anal lemony tossers in a dingy little thearette somewhere, they're made for the masses. I know some folk may snort as stuff made for public enjoyment, but hey, at least they were damn watchable, and funny.
I'm still surprised that going to see Ian McKellan was a painless procedure (other than the huge still festering blisters I got from wearing my best girlie shoes). My first experience of theatre was in the 80s, back when you really would wish that your lower intestine would leap up and throttle your brain, just to spare you sitting through the rest of the performance. It was bad, really, really bad. Mentally scarring.
Hmmm, what to watch tonight (as tv can only offer up unreality crap and Law & Order repeats). Byron, last week's Dead Zone, an Angel preview or Raffles? Hmmm, it could be Bunny... (co-dependency issues R us - grin).
BTW, anyone ever seen any Raffles slash? Because all I'm getting are raffles for bunnies on Google. Gak.
Tee hee. Good friends send you Buck Rogers/Twiki OTP when you're down :P (I don't wanna know what folks I've annoyed would send - grin).
Finally, Johnny won an award. Yay.