mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

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no matter where you go, there you are

Forgot to mention I did see the bit in Robin Hood where Much and Marian have the fashion faux paus: "I said I was wearing the orange, bitch." Never fails to amuse. No wonder Marian is so pissy, Much wear orange so much better than she does. Heh.

Ah, I gotta love Much and his coat of many curtains. How very Sound of Music of him.

Having a bit of a day/week, but a friend knows what I like and cheered me up no end, sending me over to the Shoot 'em Up trailer. Oh yeah, happy now :)

Last night's tv: The Chaser

Meanwhile, I'd like to be able to promise the words "wedding" and "photo" never flashed across my seedy lil brain, but I can't...

(and for the love of god, don't use the words "shortarse" and "Simm" in the same sentence, otherwise he'll start hyperventilating again, and we can't have that).

Oh dear. It's a St Sebastian day again (only far, far less homoerotic) as I'm being shot through with barbs from all directions. There's She Who Must Be Obeyed who has really taken to treating me like the red-headed stepchild of late, then there's the swag of nasty "since you can't be bothered replying..." letters that just arrived yesterday in response to all the replies and thankyous I posted over a fortnight ago that never arrived. Obviously the postal service really loves me, but now I'm in the shit with everyone (my fault for posting them in batches but it's such a fuss to post stuff with the forms, declarations and ID, etc, far worse than actually getting into a country, I just save it up until I have a bag full) and, well, I am so screwed.

Although I suppose I did get all the 'screw you' notes, and one lovely parcel at least - a big, big bag of British mags. Heaven - I'll wallow in them properly later. Thank you so much!!!

I'm also having trouble with the old biddy. Missed my bus this morning as she was wandering about in the freezing cold barefooted and clad only in a thin summer nightie. She said she didn't want her pjs but I think she couldn't remember where they were, so I had to bundle her back to bed before I got arrested for neglect. Oh great, we're up to the can't get dressed stage. Oh well, at least when we get up to the potty help stage I can apply for some sort of formal help, though I'm not at all looking forward to it, having worked three summers in a nursing home. I'm also not across the whole thing at all because I forget that she's not herself any more (heartbreaking, I much prefer the sudden thing now) and I just forget to check that she's actually eaten/dressed/etc.

It's just kinda hard, on top of the whole job situation and the nasty manager and trying to keep up with everything. I'm just not really providing adequate service to any one and every time I fuck up I get snarled at. On top of this I've got an inbox full of emails demanding action on a website I've had to let slide. It just never stops, you know?

And as for writing, well, the muse is there but bang went my twenty minutes of me time this morning, that I'd cleared especially with some effort. Sigh. I guess I'll have to get up at 3.30 am if I want any time to myself. I was up then anyway this morning as there were all sorts of bangs, thumps, squeals of tyres, sirens and helicopters going on. Can you bastards keep the Bond film going on outside my window down, I was trying to sleep, dammit.

I'd really love to just take off and live my own life, but I can't. So annoying, especially after those job nibbles from the UK. I know moving isn't a soloution, because I'll still be an embittered bastard wherever I go, but this town is mean.

Never mind. H and I went out for lunch and ended up at a cafe that promised beef and guinness pies on the specials board. Alas, the pies were off, luv (so my week, but I didn't argue) but what I settled for wasn't too bad, except I'd walked out without my big coat which still had my change purse in it (so much fussing over an eftpos payment) and, hello, here comes a downpour.

I also had to buy boots as my last winter work pair fell to bits last year and the docs aren't really for the city, though I love 'em. Finally got 'em fixed, too, after, right up until a month ago, of staggering around until my socks were soaked in blood. But now, lovely. I won't tell you how, but involved a remote and windswept hillside in deepest darkest Aberdeenshire, the laws of gravity and a traditional method of leather curing, which seems to have been the problem (the leather not having being cured properly). All fixed now. Heh.

Not too happy with the boots I bought but I only had a choice of four and the dominatrix ones were right out and there was a pair exactly like the ones I'd owned and loved at fifteen, but they say if you've done it once you can't do it again, and the other pair were exactly like a pair I had at eighteen that had such unpleasant associations I went green at the sight - in fact I was shocked at how strong I reacted - so they were right out. So I have these. A bit 1997, more than a bit, but it wasn't like I had a real choice. The big chunky heels are gonna kill though, so it'll still be the docs when shopping (and who needs a gym membership when lugging back litres of water and kilos of spuds and dry goods, uphill all the way). But the big chunky heels will at least keep me out of the mire, just a bit. My gosh, it's pissing down out there.

Damn, I really wish I could be off writing, so many ideas, I've got four stories in my head, ready to go. Wish I could just dump it out of my head onto the printed page.

Oh, it's really coming down now. I don't think I'll be quite so masochistic as to go washing machine shopping tonight. I think it's more a night for Heroes, a nice hot cup of tea and the fancy chocs I bought yesterday (well, I'd just had J. Simm wiped off my phone, and paid $50 for the privilege, it was chocs or damnation). Yep, I think the Petrellis win. If anyone needs clean duds, they can buy them.

Ack, it's really, really pissing down now. It's all black, wet and wintery. So not the weather for nipping up to the shops in, but needs must.

And finally, Sony, nice one on the Manchester Cathedral. Normally I could care less, but I had ancestors wed there. Harumph.
The Chaser
Virus blight spreads to museum site
The way to a girl's heart: look like the dad, win the daughter
Dutch master stolen,,2101298,00.html
Quality designs with renewal in mind
Huge water spout off Sydney
Offshore interest for Chaser's stunts
Trick or treat?
Mexican Boarders
Pepe le pew in Wild Over
Shoot 'Em Up (2007)
Sony in talks about cathedral in game

Tags: clive owen, philip glenister, robin hood

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