mondayitis

Well, I did get my Skeet. That, at least, can be said of the weekend. Yes, happily cable tv served up Takedown, Albino Alligator and Scream. For an actor whose career is in the dunny, he's certainly getting a run on local cable, which, when I think about it, is sadly more QED than anything else. Sigh.

Yeah, I watched Scream again. I was up anyway (still with the ick factor) and he's so very pretty in that. The prettiest psycho killer that ever there was, and you know how much I love a bad boy, on occassion. So very, very bad, and yet tortured, too. Well, that always works - grin. So yes, I watched Scream again. How could I possibly resist this:

Squee.

So that was the Skeet portion of the weekend taken care of. And, as it was rainy and gloomy on Saturday morning, though sadly not for long, I did get through a disk of S3 Smallville which has finally been released here (the only way I get to see it) and it's just not slashy enough anymore. There was only the Lex/Clark reunion that really tickled me. US tv can be a strange beast. People can die in all manner of gruesomely explicit ways in Smallville, but Clark can't get a hand down Lana's bra, lest he offend. It just makes me think he's gay. Three years and they're 'just friends'. Oh yeah, so gay.

Rewatched bit of Deadwood in the evening, and Hustle was back on tv. Yay! Actually, we were glad of Robert Vaughan, because up until then tv had been very 80s, with Lovejoy and the elder Simon in Deadwood, and ol' Bergerac in the dig out my eyes with a spork it's so boring Midsomer Murders.

Sunday brought the horrible realisation that I'd not been online for nearly a fortnight, so I had to skim through my flist without giving anyone the time or respect they deserve. And I missed Hornblower. It was playing on in the background, but I barely looked up, dammit. I was so desperate to plough through it, though why it should be more important than drooling over Hornybabe I'll never know. Why I bothered to scan stuff when I clearly wasn't in the mood I'll never know either, but I did. If I get time this week, it's going to be strictly tabloid stuff, just to dispose of the things. I should have taken up smoking, it'd be cheaper.

I really shouldn't get on the PC when I'm tired and cranky. And never try and install new software. There were tears before bedtime, but fortunately Dellboy put himself to rights. I was trying to install an Ipod but it all went horribly wrong. I think I've killed the Ipod, but far better it than Dellboy. I didn't really want it anyway, it's just that after losing thousands and thousands of points in rewards schemes with companies that went bust, I tend to cash them in quickly on first or second level stuff, hence the mini Ipod. I love my Sony so much that I'm sometimes afeart to take it out when the chaps on the bus looking especially rough and scary. But then I'm stuck on a bus for two hours with the cast from Oz and no music to soothe my nerves. So I thought a sacrificial Ipod that I sort of but feel like I didn't actually pay for would be just the thing. Only it nearly killed Dellboy. Wretched thing. It said it worked for PCs, but it lied. I meant to try it at work (heh, let the helpdesk deal with the horrible aftermath of incompatability) but I've got so much work and Italian homework, that I didn't bring it.

I really am tired. I feel like a trailerpark after a cyclone. Storm's gone, but I feel utterly wrecked. Didn't help to have that chap coughing violently all over me on the bus like some sort of viral volcano. And my leg hurts so damn much. Cramps were so bad I pulled a muscle, again. Ouch. I'm hobbling around like House, to add to the ignomy, though I can tell by the way everyone glares at me that they think it's just because I'm a fat bitch that I can't walk properly.

Like all those horrid comments scrawled on the bus seat about some poor schoolkid. I still am that schoolkid.

And I didn't even get my fic finished. Sigh. Grumble.

It's Monday, and I don't think even chocolate can fix that.

Bugger. They're all off sick, but I've got too much work to do to muck about. And my hand was covered in blood. Weird. I washed it away, thinking a more unlikely candidate for stigmata you could not find, but I think I must have had a bleeding nose at the bus stop, and just wiped it on my hand like a grot, unable to find a tissue in the dark like always (cheap coats have no pockets).

Oh, now they want me to submit some redesign ideas while I'm busy trying to keep everyone's plates aloft and spinning? Ack. I'm thinking I should have stayed home sick, bugger classes tonight.

Nothing like work that keeps arriving like those brooms with buckets in Fantasia, and a manager on a tear like in The Office, to have my muse suddenly reppear to tap me on the shoulder, when I am completely unable to listen to any plot ideas they might have, dammit. Though it is fun to write Keel. He has such a big old crush on Paul, it's just embaressing for all concerned. Poor Keel. I empathise, I truly do. And Paul can be such a nasty bitch about it, too. If he didn't go the strop the one or two moments he actually wasn't the entire centre of Keel's universe, I'd suspect it was entirely a one sided thing, but it ain't. They are so screwed up. I love 'em.

You'll have to forgive me. I've got a shiny new fandom and nobody to talk to. It's all my fault, of course, not being able to play well with others, so I'm just going to have to lie in this bed I made, crumbs and all. Sigh. If I could pimp this show to just one other sucker, I'd be happy. Then I'd bore them to death very quickly and be all alone again. Sigh.

Much work. Must dash.