Okay, lets start with Friday. Photocopier training was cancelled, gosh darn it, and I was lambasted for not pulling my weight at work and suffered a long over due stripping down and a threat of sacking. It's about time, and what could I do but apologise and promise to try to do better, even though I know I can't. I just can't visualise all these coldfusion applications in my head, I just can't make sense of it, it takes me days to do what other people do in minutes. I wish they would sack me - I could take the money and run off somewhere to be a bohemian writer.
After that it was hellooo cramps - and I never cried or pouted once. No, I went and ran their errands for them, all the way to the shops and back, just to make up for being an albatross (not that I ever can). After that it was the Xmas party. Oh joy. To put on a cheerful face after my dressing down, and me in my best Xmas blouse n all, I accidentally over medicated, or at least the house wine hit the mersyndols and there was me grinning insanely on autopilot. Fortunately I think my most embaressing revelation was limited to fessing up about owning a wind up Gigantor, so that was lucky. As you know, it could have been much, much worse.
After that I couldn't even push the buttons in the lift - really doing great here - to my eternal humiliation, so I went home, watched Stargate (the one where Sam gets snaked) and collapsed into semi consciousness, which lasted most of Saturday, fading in and out of the Thunderbirds, Get Smart, Dark Angel, Buffy & Angel et al, except I heard Trance and Harper singing and went from comatose to scrambling to slam a tape in the machine in ten seconds when I realised it was Star Crossed, the Andromeda episode with the Shanks in it. After that, now that I was awake, it was over to 2 for Jonathan Creek then EC7 for some more Stargate (why the heck not?), the Seth episode again, which is universally regarded as piss poor and nothing on the Dr Who version of Seth, though I kept sniggering everytime someone mentioned the ATF. Must stop that. Bad girl, reads too much bad fic. So naturally the night segued into Licence to Kill, featuring lil baby Tony still being very Tony, and that look of anguish over the loss of all that money, heh, I know that look well [giggle]. I didn't even miss out on my usual Saturday dose of Robert Davi. In fact, I kept flipping between channels: good Robert, bad Robert...
After lil Tony bought it, as all Bond villain henchmen are bound to do (flashing on Austin Powers even as I type) I switch across to TV1 where it was...surprise: Stargate. This time we're back in Season 1 and it's the one were Jack gets the STD super-aging nanobot cooties from Kynthia. Silly episode but it's the last time you see Jack sans shirt so it's noteworthy for that, and there's some nice Danny pouting going on as Jack does his brave and noble 'go back without me' schtick. After that I have vague memories of Kirk, more Thunderbirds, more Get Smart and I sleep through Samurai Jack (pout) then it's up to read the papers - too hot in my little box, especially with the tv left on all night, and then off to tea with the cousins, which I endured with the migraine from hell and I think I carried it off okay, never snapping once though it came close when they were asking me dumb helpdesk questions and when all the screaming kids landed on me - like cats the buggers have a sense about these things.
Home again to more reading, more dozing through Evolution - yikes, that was really, really bad, no wonder Duchovny did a few more XFs, and then I hear His voice and suddenly I'm being treated to flashbacks of Methos in the South Essex. What, my muse has come to kick me up the arse? No, just Queen of Swords. Amusing though, to see that on screen rendered exactly so, filmed in 2000, when I started writing my Sharpe/Methos rubbish in 1996/97 - so you can't say I copied. Too amusing. Methos in frogging, mmmmmm...
Damn blasted bad luck I have to mind the store today and not lark about writing more Methos/Sharpe, eh what?