mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

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such is life

Last night I dreamt we were overrun with Nimons, though they weren't half as much trouble as those people down the street, but everyone was asking me how to get rid of them and I had no idea because I'd given up watching Who at that stage. Even in my dreams I'm complete rubbish and useless.

Anyhoo, I supposed you heard my shrill shriek on Sunday. Yes, it was a girlie scream. Having to go out and finish the watering at dusk (and dusk lasts 30 seconds here so it was night by the time I got out the door), I figured how big could the spiders be? Oh, that big. And fie on you know who not coming to my rescue, pinned down as I was by the giant spider. The giant angry spider (trying to hose/shoo him off the wall just made him fiesty). Wibble.

Last night's Supernatural: well, I shouldn't laugh at Dean having to be dragged away from the hookers, but I did. I am easily amused by Sam's long sufferingness, and I was also mildly amused amused by the mirrored ceiling in the motel room. Not as impressed as Dean was, mind. Evil boy, you could see the scenarios already roiling about in his seething little mind. Mildly disappointed at good ol' Don being wasted in such a minor role and the whole bad town thing reminded me of a good many previous, mainly from the Western genre. One could say almost exclusively.

Also, so didn't peg the Padre as the #1 Demon in town, no sir (too bad the boys were sseveral pages behind) though I did like Sam's oops moment with the holy water and Dean being more on the ball than he appears, having already buried his dead friend (another great character wasted, kinda liked him). I really do like the fact that Dean puts on a great act that he's the dumb one. It's part survival, playing stupid, but I think there's some of Dean's insecurities at play again. I don't think anyone credits Dean with being as smart as he is, as much as he craves it from people he respects, and even if it is more cunning smart than book learning smart, it's still smart. I also liked another brief glimpse that Dean had this whole life before he teamed up with Sam again.

Sam. Okay, thanks to Jared's spoilers I duly noted the cold hard killer bit in blowing the demons away, and just in case I didn't, Dean went and wibbled about it later. Okay, Sam is quite possibly evil, got it, not needing the anvils, but thanks for caring. (Btw, Jared really comes off quite well in that interview, I was surprised at how articulate he was - yes, I have low expectations these days).

What was more interesting was Dean developing a rapport with the demon. There's a lot of things at play here, but having been so bitterly disappointed by other shows, I don't hold much hope of being stunned by developments any time soon. No matter. I love the boys and it's a monster of the week show. Anything more than that is a bonus.

Weekend tv? Well, I feel as though I'm not missing out on the show that dare not speak its name cause I watched the last episode of that Richard Armitage in orange with a helicopter but crap Casualty plots show. Oh, so very Casualty, right down to the "Hey, remember me, the patient?" classiness of the Patrick years (I stopped once poor Pat exited stage left). Never mind, Richard is just gorgeous in this. Swoon. Also got a bit of Joe Armstrong action in Foyle's War on Sunday.

Saturday night was just New Tricks and Life on Mars, which is an amusing double as they could be seen as the mirror image of each other. In one, only new cops can get the job done, in the other, only old school coppers with nouse know what's what. I'll leave you to sort out which is which, though the whole episode of Life on Mars, the factory one (poor buggers, with Thatcherism just 'round the corner) that was nothing but a challenge to see whether new or old coppering would be first across the line - I believe it was a tie, what with the symbolic mutual opening of the Party 7. At least I think that's what the mutual orgasmic release of frothy liquids was signifying.

Sam looks so cute all mussed up though. He's a strange one, that Sam. I mean, well, obviously what with the nocturnal visits from the Test Pattern Girl and all, but I was thinking personality wise. At times he is so anal in this you'd swear only dogs could hear when he farts (nothing beats the satisfaction of a thorough investigative procedure) but at other times he's very in Gene's face (and Gene just loves it, they goad and bait each other constantly) or else he's got his strut on. Three episodes in and the boy is going native - heh.

Also, bullshit on Sam inventing multi-tasking Quatum Leap style. We just watched a whole episode of Strange Report where Strange banged on about multi-tasking and thorough investigative procedures and gay boy science, endlessly (the scene smacked of padding, but it was a bemusing counterpoint to LOM). In 1966. So there, Sam Tyler.

Oh, ya shoulda seen who popped up in The Protectors. Oh yeah, two of tv's greatest ever spies in the same shot. Magic. But I'll have to post a screen cap later, because, well, you have to see it to believe it. Two words: poodle hair (no wonder he's so grumpy these days, no doubt mourning the demise of the poodle hair). Hee! Wheeze and squee.

Tues: Hey ho. Just taking a break from bashing my head against the wall. Just how stupid are these people? Obviously we must have a set quota intake of fools who can't read, write or use a computer. Harumph.

Is it too late to send my managers packing on the B Ark? Probably, yes.

Anyways, it's been raining, yay. Not anywhere useful and nowhere near enough to fill the dams or soak my garden, but, hey, a token effort is better than no effort at all. I thought it might have given the garden a good soaking but digging away on Sunday proved that it was only damp for a centimetre or two, then dustbowl dry. Sigh.

Had a charity lunch on Sunday. I was the charity (the $22,000 up front costs have rather wiped me out so I've no pride) and the food looked great (but didn't settle well) but, hey, it was a day out and I caught up with stuff and it was almost like family stuff, but weird and uncomfotrable, which is pretty much my experience of family life: weird and uncomfortable (but a friend laughed at how alien I was when seen with family so it's not just me being over sensitive, I'm like an elephant running with gazelles). Never mind, free feed, eh? Like getting a drink out of a Vogon. Yay me.

Sadly this meant no scanning done, though I was ready to go. Well, I decided to have Sat arvo off because I was wilty, then ended up with the Sunday gig, so had to spend Sunday evening running about, and last night the power went out twice so that was a no to getting out a grumpy old notebook.

Wed: Having a thoroughly sucky day, sent oon a fool's errand, bullied, the usual. But I did see giant Sidney Nolan Ned Kellys tottering around in Martin Place. On stilts! And no, I've not been on the mersyndols (another very sore point with me right now as I've none) but honestly, giant Sidney Nolan Ned Kellys. All for the new exhibition at the AGNSW, but top marks for street theatre. Made me smile, anyway. Too bad my camera doesn't talk to my PC or I'd show you very, very crap pics of giant Sidney Nolan Ned Kellys stalking Martin Place. [edit: a dear friend managed to get it off their phone for me, so click here]

But now I shall huff and grump because all that running back and forth has rooted my ankles and started me you-know-whats.

Never mind, got some scanning done, watched Bones. And Who.

And you know, everyone bangs on about the Doctor being so clever, and I suppose he is, but after 900 years or so you'd pretty much have seen it all before, twice. Which must be hard for someone who's a bit, you know, ADD (one word, Doctor: decaff). But I was just thinking in terms of him going, "yeah, nice try, but...", because even after my brief span on this globe. I'm getting all old and grumpy about all things and tend to spout things like "Have they never watched Princess Bride? Never start a land war in Asia!". You know, that sort of thing. It's all getting very ho hum, seeing the same things go round again, and again, and again.

Never mind the eternal agonies of lonliness. Boredom, the whole been there, done that, bought the t-shirt, that must be the real killer. No wonder he sorts these johnnies out in one episode as opposed to eight these days. What, this old trick again? Same old, same old, when will they ever learn, etc etc.

And I would have got away with it too, if not for you pesky kids and your tin dog. No, wait, that's the Sarah Jane Adventures.

Thurs: It's cold and wet like November. A northern hemisphere November. I've had to get out my Caithness venturing coats. Not that I mind, because the garden is bone dry, but it's rarely this cold, and rarer still this close to the official kickoff date for Summer. Still, it's just perfect for the RL Stevenson story I'm reading right now, called the Merry Men. How brilliant was it now to see an actual lighthouse as installed by his father. And the whole Armada wreck thing ties in nicely with that Time Team episode I watched a few weeks ago. i love it when the meta comes together. Anyway, atmospherically gloomy Scottish weather we're having.

Missed most of House, but it looked clearly ridiculous, and then watched Life. Damian is so the cute, but other than that: meh. Though there was some nice partner in jeopardy stuff/ Oh my dear, you have fallen hard, haven't you?

Fri: It's cold, grey and wet and I'm cold, grey, cranky and crampy (and bleeding like a stuck pig, but that's neither here nor there). It was supposed to be my day off but my boss put so many conditions on it that, well, I'm here, ain't I? And all I wanted to do was curl up under the blankies and snooze in drugged out bliss, or possibly watch the stack of dvds piled up beside my bed (Spooks, Robin Hood, Unit One, Supernatural, Foyle's War, Mrs Bradley Mysteries, Blood Ties, etc). But no, I'm here, being very, very annoyed. And in pain. And miserable.

To make matters worse, as if they needed to be, I have himself at home with t'flu, and it's his b-day tomorrow, and it's also the funeral of a dear colleague who up and died all of a sudden (they're all popping their clogs of late, it's damn distressing, I can tell you, because so far none has been old).

So, having a ball here, as you might imagine. Tea and a biscuit helps, but this day is rapidly devolving into a stiff belt or three territory.

Anyhoo, Heroes. Missed my designated thirty seconds of Pete because the Euro Cops overran and Heroes actually started on time for the first time ever. Ack. So it was a Petrelli free zone. But at least I got to see that Jack had lost none of his edge, though the weary cracks were showing. Other than that, none of my faves featured (because I could care less about the Wonder Twins) other than Mohinder who flip flopped back and forth so often I think both of us are confused as to where his moral compass resides. In fact it's all very murky as to who is doing what to whom and why. I mean, I like my shades of grey, but this is shades of mud as it all gloops together in a mess.

Meanwhile, back in the Last samurai, the plot, if you could call it that, followed my unfinished fic so exactly and to the letter that I almost laughed. And here I was, worrying about how to justify why I did what I did and now everyone will just think I ripped off Heroes instead. Oh well, never mind. Comedy sidekicks can kiss the girl, but pissy heroes will have their jealous revenge.

The Danish Duo, however, where in fine form, with Fischer once again interrogating La Cour over and over about his private romantic life and poor La Cour just winces and fobbs off, but its hard going against Fischer who is Denmark's answer to Frank Pembleton. Fischer's intense, and, since we talking Mads here, I mean intense, interest in La Cour's inner life is both creepy and interesting. Not even Fischer knows why he has to know: he just does.

That aside, a rather bleak ending for the case, which at times had veered almost into farce. And the Unit are rather realistically crap at their jobs, with politics and personalities all getting in the way of solving crime. They make mistakes, they drop balls, the screw the wrong people. It's all very messy, and part of the appeal. OMG, I've just made it sound like Torchwood, and kinda, yeah, with the dysfunction and shiny HQ, but it's more world weary kitchen sink realism than the grafted on sniggering adolescence of TW. These cops are just tired human beings who fuck up occasionally. Okay, more than occasionally. There's a lot of Sweeney in the mix too, I dare say.

And Fischer and La Cour are so cute as the old ballsy cop/sensitive cop routine (and yet La Cour is no pushover). I love the way they always sit together in the brefings like two naughty boys in class, with Fischer always behaving like a brat and La Cour bemused, because Fischer always gets in trouble. Oh, they're an odd pair, those two. La Cour is like the school swot who's best friends with the school bully.

Did get to watch one episode of Spooks last night, but I have a lot of catching up to dp. Wicked, wicked Harry, handing the faux terrorist Mossad dude over to the Americans as a genuine terrorist. Not that the Mossad dude didn't deserve it, but, well, the poor guy, and I just marvel at how simply wicked Harry can be. So elegant a soloution for disposing of an unwanted agent without dirtying his hands. Oh, Harry, you are the master. Also yay Ros for being the superest coolest sekrit agent on the show ever and yay to the Adam angst, even if weepy PTSD Adam means that Ros is now the roughest toughest sekrit agent on board.

Also yay to the Matt Day (though, oh my, middle age certainly came calling, eh, Matt?) even if he was playing evil revengy loony bastard. Jo is still a complete and utter waste of space, though.
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Arena June 2007 UK

Moving Pictures #10 April-May 2006 US

Tags: dean winchester, doctor who, gene hunt, hugh jackman, jared padalecki, life, life on mars, mads mikkelsen, magazine scans, ned kelly, peter firth, rejseholdet, richard armitage, rupert penry-jones, sam tyler, spooks, strange report, supernatural, the protectors

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