Saturday: I am a bad, bad girl. I promised faithfully to finish off my J/D fic on Fri night/Saturday and I did not do it. Not one sentence did I write. Really, the 12 hour days do have some part to play, as I was rather too knackered to write. I tried to write Sat night but it just would not come.
Sunday: Lunch with the rels. The dreary religious tea drinking side of the family. With rug rats. Ironically, after decalring that my taxes were all the interaction with ein kinder I ever wanted to have, I ended up chatting with the rug rats because I'd rather talk sea horses and Star Wars than rehash my CV again. No, I'm not still working at the same place, not for several years now. I'm a 7/8 now. Is that any good, they ask. ::sigh:: You know, guys who work on Farscape shook my hand on hearing I'd reached the lofty heights of a grade 7/8/ Not my rellies though. Typical. Actually, I'm now the supreme ruler of the universe? Is that any good, they dismiss me. Well, actually, the hours kind of suck I mumble into my lemonade, wishing I had a hip flask to ginger it up a bit.
Afterwards I got a dose of culture popping into the Dali exhibit (two adult tickets, plus postcards = $50) but it was pretty muvh the hack work years and rather repetitive. Melting clock, woman with drawers, woman with drawers and melting clock, etc. Worse, it was crowded, very hot, very close and having had to help everyone crack open their crabs at lunch I smelt like old prawn heads going ripe in the sun. Faux paus. Of course, it was shoulder to shoulder posers, too. Oh dear. In fact I'm home now, showered, and I still smell like crab meat. All the oils in Araby ain't gonna swetten this lil hand. Heh. I have lorikeets besporting at my feet. Cut that out, you'll go blind. Well, now I at least know what they mean about birds doing it. Randy buggers.
Six Feet Under: I always wanted David to end up with Keith but in typical 6FU fashion, it's not all beer and skittles. Ditto everybody else. I like this, it's realistic rather than aspirational drama. I find it comforting to watch people as screwed up and screwed over as me.
Enterprise: I'd read a review complaining how boring this episode was. The male reviwer was probably waiting for T'Pol to get her tits out. I think I liked it just because it was T'Pol lite. I'm sitting here watching a whole lot of cheerful homosocial bonding going on and I'm absolutely tickled pink. They've all paired up, bless. I'm not finding it dull, I'm finding it cute. Different strokes, I guess, and speaking of strokes, alas, alien interuptus, as always. First I'm treated to Trip trying to grab Archer back from the alien, and now the alien has gone and linked up their thoughts and feelings. Hello, fanfic. How weird, though, to watch Enterprise riffing off classic SG-1 and meanwhile SG-1 decides to emulate the worst of Voyager. It's a funny old world. Oh well, at least this crew gives a shit about each other. Phlox can be a tough cookie when he needs to be, too. He has totally won me over, and that was a big ask. Maybe it's the mersyndols kicking at fucking last (too much fresh air and sunshine makes this IT morlock very poorly) but I'm reaaly enjoying this episode.