Anyhoo, Monday again, sunburnt and sleep deprived as usual. Sleep deprived from the storm of short but violent duration last night, though not as interesting as the storm that left thick packs of ice still lying about the place when I got home, not to mention leaves torn off and plastered everywhere and stuff blown down and blown over, though I'm happy to lose just a few pots, considering the obvious maelstrom.
Sunburnt from the tournie yesterday. Oh yes, my first ever medieval fair, well, a proper one anyway. I blush to tell you how long it's been since I've watched chaps in armour have at one another but since the armour wasn't merely an old paint tin with holes cut in it I can assume t'internet has made the aquisition of quality armour an actual possibility. It was funny, I saw loads of old, old familiar faces (couldn't remember the names, but lots of faces) and lots of remarks about how the scene has come on since dying away. Certainly I've never seen so many combatents, though I must say I preferred the just in it for the violence mob, with their dinged helms and their scarred shields to the historical accuracy groups, the SCA groups and the stage fighting groups. So I sat there, watched young men beating several shades of shit out of each other, and was entertained. Too bad the food stalls were rubbish and the trinkets stalls were all the usual suspects.
We'll call that day research, and thus claim it not as a sinfully wicked waste of time that should have been spent scrubbing floors. Besides, I brokes me scrubbing brush and I had shopping to do (left behind one of my parcels in a store due to imbecility/sunstroke and was lucky enough to get it back because man, well, not a nice town, evinced by the three, shall we say Bulldogs supporters, who tried to rumble me on the way home but I was tired and cranky and they backed off when they realised I truly meant to thump them. Big fat cowards. Mummy's boys. Grrr (and haikeeba!)).
Ahem, not that a day spent watching armed combat made me violent, oh nos. I'm just violent anyway - grin. Especially when tired and cranky and overheated - and isn't my pet just like...
Attempted some scanning but not much as poor Dell Boy was dreadfully cranky in the heat, not to mention being clumsily caught after the bugger decided to pitch itself off the bookshelf into my so not ready and waiting arms (the house has moved again, the doors now all hang that way).
Tuesday. Okay, I'd love to know what gives me the 20.05 precisely migrane every Monday, because it's ruining my SPN night. Seriously, dudes. Possibly I need to change detergents again because Monday is ironing day.
Anyways, even all squinty I still LOL'd at last night's episode. It was the rabbit's foot one. Okay, yes, just an excuse to for pratfalls and to introduce Dean's designated bit o'skirt, but poor, poor Sammy. Poor, poor shoeless Sammy. It's been a long time since I've seen anyone look that pathetically wretched (when played for laughs, not angst). Oh, poor baby. Too frelling funny. I laughed and laughed and laughed. Sorry Sammy, but I did. Dean was his usual cocky self (poor Sam, 'cause sometimes a little Dean goes a long way, 24/7 must be very draining on the lad, no wonder he always looks so dispeptic). Loved the bit with the pen, though. Saw it coming a mile (1.609km) off, but still quite amusing.
Also, thumbs up on the motel room interior. They've been letting them slide last series, to my dismay (it's one of my fave things about the show), but this one was a happy return to form. They should always look like they've were thrown together by the set decorator from Strange Report. Groovy, baby.
And yay to the Bobby cameo, gruff affectionate paternal figure that he is. Calling Dean an "eejit" was just adorable. Cause ya know deep deep down Bobby loves Dean like a son. But deep deep deeper down, he still thinks he's an eejit. Heh.
Also watched The Protectors doing The Talented Mr Ripley, and you can shrink it down to half an hour and it still feels padded. The Contessa is still weepy this series, as opposed to having large steel ones last series. Maybe its the realisation that being a 70s super spy isn't all it's cracked up to be, and while she's pining for Harry her eggs are just withering on the vine (the tragic fate of all fantastic women, where single digit IQ'd slatterns pump out six brats to seven different fathers). Harumph.
Doctor Who repeats brought forth Sarah Jane Smith (fortunately still with steel ones) but also feeling the burden of 70s super-womanhood, and K-9, who manages to be heroic and funny when previously I'd only found him annoying. And Tony Head as the evil principal, and we realise with great reget that we were never treated to an evil Giles episode, because clearly, it would have rocked.
Did like DT's high frequency yelp (loud enough to set off car alarms in the street) over K-9 and the whole two girlfriends farce. Did not like Joy Division being removed from the soundtrack on the UKTV versions (and still reeling over NW having to explain who Ian Curtis was, but I suppose we are talking NW readers here).
The high noon thing was a bit cheesy, and it's a good thing the whole Sarah Jane plot rocks because the actual A plot sucketh big ones. First of all there's all the editing mistakes like the disappearing headphones, and if TH is supposed to be in human form, not bat, how come in one scene it's quite clearly indidicated, collar adjusting and all, that he's just changed from bat to person? And how on earth do you get Krillitane oil if it causes them to blow up? Where does it come from? Ack. Okay, repeating to myself that it's just a show (but really, they do need somebody there to think through the logic).
It's like the friend yesterday taking me to task for expecting more from Robin Hood as it's just a kid's show. Well, yes, it is, but back when I were lass, BBC kids shows were big on the bejeebus scary and not at all on the slapstick silly. They were, quite simply, more grown up. I can't see any reason why RH couldn't also, you know, grow up. I'm not expecting Rome, but a little less Danger Island wouldn't go amiss.
I mean, Tomb of the Cybermen was for kids and that was fucking terrifying (but in a good way, even if I still have nightmares to this day). There were no ninjas or pratfalls.
Never mind (but I do). Also watched Life on Mars. The one that starts with the absolutely classic cossie chase to Live and Let Die. It's also the one where Gene and Sam start out loathing each other but eventually manage to see the other's POV and soon stand shoulder to shoulder, and end the episode with that oh so knowing look as Gene deals Sam in.
It's the plot from Pride and Prejudice, it really is, and happily enough I watched that, too, on the second last screening on cable (weep). This time around I was doing the ironing during it so there was much MST3King it (sorry Jane), and I really shouldn't dub in a Wayne's World "SCHWING!" when Darcy first sights Lizzie, but it's pretty much only lacking the sound effect anyway. Ditto the "bink" as poor Darcy's heart breaks when Lizzie dumps on him (not without reason, but the poor chump, he just keeps coming back for more).
I also disputed criticisms I read in the Telegraph I think it was about how slow moving it was and did we have to endure Lizzie walking over hills. Well, yes, the whole romantic nature movement was taking off at the time, so it's good of the film to evoke that, and the scenes around the Bennet house are just Constable pictures come to life (so exact they must have had a book of them on set). I also liked the country dance looking like a country dance, thus demonstrating Darcy's discomfort over being surrounded by rustics. Some parts though were heavy handed, like the scene where Darcy and Lizzie appear as the only people in the room. I guess they were just underlining it for the Yanks.
The Peanut Gallery wanted to know which hideous fascist newspaper had said there was no room for Constable in a chick flick, and indeed, the two can go together quite handsomely. I adore the BBC version, but this film gains on it as my favourite at every viewing. The only sticking point is Wickham. Who cast that drab, damp non-actor? He's awful. Quite simply awful and ill suited for the part.
Anyhoo, better get on wi' it. Had meant to have happy 70s cops thoughts but now I've cleared 40 mins for them, they've gone into hiding. Harumph.
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