Yesterday was another crap day at work but this time I followed by father's sage advice and laid low and said nothing, even when wankers engaged in blatant games of blame shifting.
Which is why I went home early. Meant to get home really, really early, but as always, one last deadline job landed while I was packing up. I bet the chap on the other end of the line wondered why he was getting the husky phone voice instead of the usual 'wtf do you want' voice (I was mid porny thoughts while running a batch task).
It was hot, damn hot (the weather, not the porny thoughts, well, actually, both) and the sky was a fierce pinky grey from the now seriously out of control bushfire. I was meant to be doing some more turfing of treasures, but the salmon salad was ready, but not all the parties were there for tea. So we jammed the salad back in the fridge, having to make room for it, which involved an impromptu fridge tidy, which was something, I suppose. Found a gift box of chocs jammed right up the back that we decided just had to be used up, now, to clear out the fridge. I know what you're thinking: no sacrifice too great, eh?
So there we were, lounging in front of the tv, half a bottle of a particularly fine sav blank, half a box of choccies and Robin Hood on the telly. You know, on a decent sized tv, it's not so bad. Even the whole 'charging up the swords by waving them about' bit seemed just a little bit less hammy. Or maybe it was the vino and choccies. Whatever, we were thoroughly enjoying ourselves, hence my utter dismay when we were very brusquely evicted. Pout. I never get to watch stuff on the big telly (the one that cost me a grand).
So I kinda spent the rest of the night in pouty sulky mode. Meant to watch stuff (I have so much stuff teetering on my to be watched pile), meant to finish culling those effing tapes, meant to even try finishing off a fic, but sulked instead. Very productive evening. Ah, well.
I did however flick through some mags marking stuff to scan (which I should get back to as it too has become a teetering 'to do' pile) and found a few articles on Robin Hood as I went. Apparently it's meant to be a Pirates of the Carribean ripoff, which explains a lot, and it is meant to be wildly anachronistic. Okay, it helps a bit to know what they're trying to do, though in better hands it shouldn't need explanation (eg Life on Mars = Sweeney homage, and thirty seconds of footage is usually all that's required to make that blatantly clear, and the brilliance of the show is that it's that, and so much more).
Mind you, at least RH is not as bad as Torchwood, which relies upon the website rather than the episodes to tell the story, and as the site is blocked to non UK users, that makes just so much not sense on every level.
Returning to my thoughts on screen ratios, I know it's a spell in the dungeons for me if I ever (as if I would ever) not consider all possible permutations of screen size when making pages. I wonder if tv folks ever give thought to it. It does make a difference. One episode of Stargate was nothing but Star Wars space battles. Impressive on a medium sized tv, but on my handheld it was like watching a game of pocket space invaders. In fact, for that reason I tended to lean towards the more talky end of the tv spectrum: West Wing, House, CSI, etc, rather than spectacle. But sans wee telly right now (I'm thinking of nipping over, pun intended, on the el cheapo JetStar rates - the cheaper than wee telly tickets).
These days I just fuss quietly over picture quality. The other telly plays everything perfect (not that I ever get to watch anything on it - grumble), but the little LCD telly is very, very unforgiving, and some of my oldest dvds are almost unwatchable, to my dismay, unless I'm after a C64 experience. X Files looks like Pacman. Sigh.
Meanwhile, while I was reading the Dalziel & Pascoe book "Bones and Silence", there was a bit about the devil trying to goad Jesus into chucking himself off a ledge. Don't know why, but it just reminded me of Neil trying to goad Sam into chucking himself off the building. Not that I think it's siginificant, just an amusing parallel.
Mainly, I'm just thinking: SAM!!! oO
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LOM Spoiler from TRA:
Quote from: Matthew Graham on Today at 02:49:52 PM</a>
Matt here. Thank you all so damn much for your loverlee emails. Ash and I are reading them in the hotel lobby whilst eating brekkie and nursing Gene Hunt style hangovers./
To celebrate, here is an exclusive quote from SERIES TWO.
SAM staggers from the car and collapses into the street.
GENE: What's wrong with you?
SAM: I'm dying ....
GENE: Rubbish. I feel like you do every Sunday morning.