mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

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that was the week that was

I could be having fun here, if I wasn't busy biting the desk to keep from screaming. There's no one else here. Which is why I'm here and not in bed. Great planning led them to believe that Old Faithful would be here to play ftp girl, only I knew today was stay in bed day. Do you have to be sick today they asked? I felt like getting out the old charts they used to use in my old coy 70s sex education classes. It's not like I had a choice. So much for staying in bed, taking it easy and catching up on a month's worth of tv. I'm here, playing ftp girl. In my comfy weekend not fit to be seen gear, too, because I'd planned on being out of here three hours ago. Oh well. This is the first time I've worn my old Nottingham jumper down here. It's old, it's worn, but it usually only sees action in foreign climes. Heh, just stole Department S' milk to make a much needed cup of tea. Hey, they stole my Dad's work so I figure we're even.

Anyways, my weekend course turned out to be quite the toddle. Pitched at a level several steps below me, fer once, it was kind of nice not to be the class dunce. The whole thing was much less fraught than my weekends usually are, which is weird. It wasn't all smooth sailing, though. The first bus trip in I had to sit behind old urine smelling guy. And not just the odd whiff either, I'm talking about eye searing nose burning reeking of old man pee guy. So guess what I smelt like all day. How to win friends and influence people. Then I enhanced the effect when, sitting in the corner skimming through one of the magazines I'd picked up in a trot past my old fave newsagent (and isn't my magazine habit expensive when I buy them in bulk), I ejaculate tea everywhere when I find a pic of my League page and a small review in the back pages, noting it as the site to start with when searching for Brit actors on the web (Film Review, I think it was). Yay me. Didn't that go down a treat with my newbie classmates. Insert envious glares here. It was the old design too, which looked so pretty as a screencap. Why did I change it again, because everybody hates the new design, though it downloads really fast.

At least on the bus trip home last night Buck was whispering sweet nothings into my ear re Ezra, which was nice. Too bad I don't seem to be getting the chance to do anything about it.

So, anyway, I stuck it out as long as I could, which wasn't long, and went home a lunchtime on Monday. Crawled straight into bed and settled down to watch dear old Bo Duke in some truly, truly dreadful storm movie that was so goddam cheap there wasn't even much of a storm. Yikes. Still, I wasn't in the mood to be bothered with a plot and he was in uniform so it worked for me at the time. Watched Buffy, the 4pm screening, and pretty much dozed under the influence of a fistful of mersyndols.

Tuesday I got up and...promptly went back to bed again. I just wasn't in the mood. I wanted to sleep all day but those darn magpies kept waking me up by knocking on my window. Annoying and kinda freaky at the same time. Tried to study work text books but ended up watching Paul Gross in the midday movie playing an evil mountie, with CSM showing up as a Mountie, too. At one point I had CSM on two stations simultaneously. That's just wrong. Ended up watching telly all night as the cramps kept me uncomfortably awake. I got my bad boy fix in. First there was Lex, dear, wicked Lex, then Cole in Charmed. Then, ah yes, Dark Wes and dear little Anthony Starke, aka my beloved Ezra, popping up as a scuzzy drug dealer in Angel. Quite the bad lad. He managed to be scarier and badder than Angel, so he did well (not that one really has to try too hard these days). I'd not heard much about the role so I expected small and unimpressive, but no, he was way cool and I was in raptures. All this and Dark Wes too.

Of course now I'm back here, in trouble for daring to have yesterday off sick, with work up to my eyeballs, and I'm still so zonked I could walk into a wall and not notice. Oh well...Would help if I hadn't been up all night drooling over tv bad boys and scribbling about cowboys plighting their troth. My's not normal.

Eschewing what I should be doing to muddle through what I actually can do, being all ouchy hurty crampy miserable and doped to the eyeballs besides, I'm sitting here fixing busted links. It's a good idiot job because the connection is so slow I can spend hours trying to get a page down. Amazingly annoying when at home, excellent timewaster when at work. The acronyms in this place defy description. Am trying to deal with the following file: ass/management.html without devolving into infantile giggles, but alas I'm failing miserably. Imagine me sniggering away like Cartman and you won't be far wrong. Deliciously cruel co-workers are taunting me to walk faster everytime I hobble and shuffle past them on the way to the loo like a 300+ year old arthritic geriatric who's been in the saddle too long. You don't have to be bitter and vicious to work here, but you will be, you will be, as that famous old shuffler Yoda would say.

Nature has provided. Well, Foxtel did, anyway, with Michael Biehn on tap last night. This has been quite a week for my own brand of eye candy. Thoroughly excreable movie though, and you know what I'm willing to sit through in the name of perving so please understand that this was especially dire. Even more dire than the John Schneider film on Monday, and that's really pushing the envelope of direness, but they were both prancing about in County Sheriff uniforms, so the movies weren't a total loss. This time the film in question was Cherry Falls, of which the title and premise alerted me to it's impending badness but it was such a dreadfully sick and twisted film, sort of like reading a bad fic where you feel like sending the writer the name of a qualified professional, and it had this really weird and very overt incest vibe going. Between Cherry Falls (ahem) and Smallville with it's near textual Freudian themes (which is cute because I thought I'd read Superman was more Jungian than Freudian but I digress) I'm really starting to wonder about smalltown Americana. It's all very David Lynch. Only this was just crass, rather than classy perversion. I think I'm going to have to re-watch Urban Legend just to recognise it as the masterpiece it is, Joshua Jackson and Michael Rosenbaum nothwithstanding. The creepiest thing in the film, and I'll never be able to watch Action again (and it was the Richard Burgi episode last night) was that Jay Mohr as the crazy dragged up pyscho killer looked so much a friend of mine it gave the film a level of disturbing that it just didn't deserve. Otherwise it would have just been laughable. Yes, I have friends the dead spit of Jay Mohr as a dragged up psycho killer. What, me worry?

I'm going to give dear Michael the benefit of the doubt and assume he did this film for rent money and not after having read the script and deciding he must have this film on his CV (and what a CV it is - reading back along it I realise my first crush on the Biehn dates from the tender age of eight. Oh lordy). Still, there was mucho eye candy, tight trousers and a long scene where the lad was trussed up before his inevitable messy end (films where Michael doesn't die before the end credits - Navy Seals is the only one that comes quickly to mind). Trawled for pictures early this morning, found some very nice coy ones, but none of the money shot, alas. There's definitely a niche on the web for a "Michael Biehn: the package shots" page, because lord knows, I've never found any worthy screencaps from such choice material as Navy Seals, Magnificent Seven, Terminator and the aptyly named Cherry Falls. Tee hee - I'm perving at various piccies of Michael on this excellent site and they're playing Spiderbait's "arsehugging pants" on the radio. How truly appropriate. My boy's theme song. Giggle. Lust. Drool. Cramp. Oh crap.

The other tv I watched last night (missing Enterprise because it was a boring Vulcan episode though I flipped over to see them giving the old mind meld a sexual context/content which is going to have me watching Star Trek still later at night on TV1 in an even more slashy light) was Quincy. Well, not Quincy per se because that's on TV1 during the day, though I did get to see it on Tuesday. It's such an anthropological document now, a little time capsule of 70s fashions and morals and attitudes and the equipment and methodologies are positivelt medieval. Anyways, a friend recommended Crossing Jordan, which I've watched whenever it didn't clash with anything - local tv stations, bleeding ratings, have been playing musical chairs with the schedules - and it's fun but I meant to comment before on what a complete Quincy ripoff it is. They've just turned the ME into a chick and that's all they've changed. I like the show even more because instead of denying their roots they've embraced them by having Jack Klugman, as Quincy as ever, pop up as a legendary crusty old medical examiner. So sweet. I hope they get the old boy back for a few more turns because it was cute, Quincy telling them how it is. I like shows that acknowledge tv history, rather than pretend the entire audience has altzheimers or something. Shows like Farscape that mock and play with the traditions rather than just retreading them in a tired old orthodoxy and yes Brad Wright, I am scowling in your general direction.

Just had am email from a dear friend from highschool, the only friend from highschool I still talk to, and still want to talk to (aside from the ex-alumni upstairs and that's work). Not that I'm not fond of some of my old mates, they're just so...suburban (you know, nappies, home rennovations, tupperware...shudder). Yeah, okay, I'm still twelve years old, but hey, it's my life and I can't be the only mature aged tv viewer watching Smallville because the ads were all incontinence products, by crikey. Not that I'm in that market. Oh no, not at all. Having failed to have my legally required 2.1 children (considering this town has three times the population it can support I'm at least being eco-friendly if nothing else) I'm fine, aside from the bastard monthlies which trial my co-workers so dearly, apparently. But anyway, it was nice to hear from her and she's been reading this - holy crap - so a big wave from me.

Oooh, now they're playing "Sexy Boy" by Air on the radio. Keep this up and I'll be able to make a cd of music to perve at pictures of Biehn and Bean to - giggle. Oh well, back to work. I am the IT department this week, and I'm floundering as usual, mainly because I don't have access to half these systems so I have no idea. This is why territorialism in IT depts is a Bad Thing. Men. Humph. And somehow in admist all this administration I'm supposed to finish off my database and implement the new intranet. By Friday. Sheesh. And for my next miracle....All I want to do is get on the net at lunch and scout for pics to send back in friendly revenge for the 80s Rob Lowe pics I was sent the other day. Yikes and double yikes.

I popped out for some "fresh" air and a jog down to pick up the latest copy of SFX and I was accosted by a giant blue frog. I kid you not. Some promotion of sorts, I guess. Grizzle, I hate school holidays. When I were lass, we never had any money to hang around mall...grizzle.



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