There was a little girl who had a weird arse cowlick thing right in the middle of her forehead, and when she was good she was quiet and submissive but when she was premenstral she was fekking psycho.
In other words, sorry about yesterday. You, um, might have noticed that I was in a bit of a mood [sheepish look]. Better get another script of those hormone pills. They make me ill and not writey but at least the furniture would be safe.
Speaking of which...
Well, I no longer have the comedy chair at work, so that's something. I tell ya, I must be really honest or stupid, because it's taken me this long to realise that being the first person in here in the mornings means I can swap seats with a contractor who ain't in for two weeks. Hee. I have a seat with a back on it now, and it no longer feels like I'm peddling a unicycle all day.
Damn needed it too cause my back's still complaining about all that weeding on Sunday.
So, yesterday was worm worm worm virus virus virus as it slithered about the network grinding everything to a halt. I went home after a mere ten hours anyways cause I had to be maid/nurse/cook. I had planned to get online too, but not with the wormy out there. I mean, I have Nortons, I update it frequently, but I still get nervous. You know me, walking testament to fekking Murphy's Law.
Just as well, cause I was overtired and emotional - grin. So I did the shopping, which wasn't easy as one arm was taken up with carrying my really heavy winter coat, which is like carrying a frelling large teddy bear under one arm, then half the things on my hastily printed out recipe weren't there, how unexpected - not, and I had to limp home with bags of groceries, uphill, all the way, with my poor still bleeding and still missing a sizeable chunk of itself TVPG14 toe. Damn my increasingly insane Aged Parent and her tank traps. She still can't tell me why she dug holes all over the yard and lined them with broken bricks. She just did. And you want me to move out? Imagine this lot without adult supervision.
I had to hang around and wait to make tea, due to the ridiculous embargos and quirks of this nuthouse (Bro has quirks about when I can and when I can't prepare or eat food). By the time I finally got going it was pitch black outside, the light had blown in the kitchen and I had to try and follow a recipe printed in 4pt font by torch light as the ladder was in the shed and I wasn't up to battling deadly spiders, rats, mice, roaches, potholes and stairs in the dark, between you and me.
It was more madwoman's stir fry than the recipe, as discovering folks had eaten their way through yesterdays groceries like locusts meant more fudging of ingredients and AP decided she was well enough to sit and micro manage and critique so I was flustered and messing up badly, you know, like Wes when his RoboDad showed up. Still, it was edible, and that's the main thing.
I even managed to catch the end of the Van Helsing special. I thought it'd be the usual US studio making of crap but it was actually a Foxtel production local boys done good kinda thing and the interviews were really quite funny. Especially David Wenham. When asked the difference between US and Oz sets (Dave being that rare breed of Oz actor that actually makes the odd Oz film inbetween his Hollywood gigs) dear ol Daisy's eyes lit up and he answered it was the catering.
On Oz sets, he explained, you just get a little table with hot water, instant coffee, tea bags and a packet of Arnotts biscuits - no creams, he emphasises (giggle - it's so like that in the PS, typical Oz catering, not even lashing out for the cream filled biccies) but on US sets there are entire trucks filled with every confection known to man. Again his eyes lit up. Bit of a sweet tooth there, I suspect. Well worth taping, just for that. The "no creams" clarification had me chuckling all night. Ah well, you can take the boys out of Oz...
Speaking of Oz, the other Oz, SBS played episode one, season one last night. Yay, backstory. Even more familiar faces. Well, at least everyone went onto to be gainfully employed after it. I really like it. It's like a high school soap, with all the cliques, only more honest, more real, less saccharine and sans the John Hughes soundtrack. At least, my school days were exactly like Oz, and so not like any US teen soap. Of course it helps if girls at your school actually have rap sheets (some for crimes that would give the guys in Oz pause) :D
And I don't understand why folks are saying it's not SBS programming, it's not ethnic enough. It's the most ethnic show to come out of the US, to my mind. Not everyone is middleclass and white in this show (thank frell). It's multicultural, trust me.
Sex Pistols: highly theraputic. At least, they just played Anarchy in the UK and I turned it up on my headphones and bounced up and down a bit on my new bouncy seat and I feel so much better. Housework to Never Mind The Bollocks tonight methinks. Whee, that was fun. It was actually one of a few tracks chosen by Robert Smith of The Cure back in '93 (they were playing an old, old interview) and most had me bopping along. I am so old and farty, and I don't care. I feel...anarchic.
Tee hee. I've been asked to test the cms again so I'm making up another fake site. This time it's called Toga!Toga!Toga! and it's featuring a lot of historical and mytholgical daks-free chaps. It's frankly enormous fun as I reacquaint myself with their histories and
perv peruse for suitable pictures to accompany the text. Then there's the metadata. Alexander the Great is now indexed under 'land acquistion'. Odysseus is under 'asset management' and 'marketing'. Paris gets 'public relations'. Hee. Wonderful, subversive fun. I think it's been nearly a decade since I last really played with fake data. Pity. Too bad it's on our test server. Oh well. I'm gonna save it out when I'm done, I mean test the new exporting function. Wheeze, I'm so very easily amused.
|WATER OF AIR. You're aloof, depressed and seasoned. You'd make a good psychologist, executioner, black widow, arsenic poisoner, heretic queen or commentator. You're too witty for your own good. Have to get up early in the morny morn to fool you, as you spot lies a mile away. And WOE TO THOSE who dare attempt such a stupid move. You're Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween, when she cuts Michael's head off. You're Anne Robinson, the host of The Weakest Link!|