Can I run away again? This place sucks more than I ever imagined it could. I now have my constantly finding fault and screaming manager on my case all day as she is now at the next desk, not the next room, I still have no access to anything I might need to do my job like folders, ftp, email, etc and this place is firewalled up the wazoo so I can't access yahoo, google or even newspapers and they're all still on software/procedures that are ten years old at best. Arrrgh!
And, worst of all, a more wretched hive of scum and villainy, etc because not only did they swipe all my pens and my stapler and tape and clips but also my tea bags, my yoghurt, my spoons and about $600 worth of IT books. I fucking hate them!
So I'm far too wretched and too public to fic (desk sticks out onto thoroughfare like dog's bollocks, compounding my misery), but I can type away at this and hope it looks like work if I format it with code. I just have to vent.
Pity, because my month off from the world was fun. So much fun and full of things learnt and experiences won. I just had to take a break from emails, phone calls, texts (though I was still bombarded for the first week, until my account ran out, then blessed silence) as well as laundry, weeding, etc. I still feel guilty but I've never run away before and it was nigh on time and for a bit I could do what I wanted, for the most part, as much as was practical (as always there were time and money constraints, etc).
I did get dragooned by my cuz into giving a talk at the local school, which for being sprung on me with precious little lead time I thought I managed with considerable aplomb, though my Aunt later remarked sourly that ten year olds were hardly going to be the most critical of audiences. Zap! Kapow!
I'm begining to agree with B. Wooster re his position re Aunts.
Oh yeah, still with the red rash from hell. Latest theory is that it's not a personal failing (ie fat stupid neurotic female) but rather a nasty infection I picked up from that filty disgusting hospital wot killed my mother. Quite easily contracted since so often when I visited there was no chair so I had to read her the papers and a chapter a night sitting on the floor. So I was quite upset about that (but was immediately told to make an attitude adjustment when I arrived, pricked and prodded to within an inch of my life from the $300 a pop specialist, at work somewhat ill, tired and distressed). My only consolation is that if it is still what they think it is this week, it's highly infectious.
Good news for sticky fingered co-workers, not so good for at home. Have spent the last two weeks washing all clothes, bed linen, cushion covers, sofa covers, towels etc and cleaning and scrubbing, all with a visit from the monthly fairy (so not really in the mood, as you might imagine). When not at work, the doc or the solicitors (still with the probate).
Sigh. So I've not had time to really think or be or smile (you've had your weeks off, not back to it, bitch), nor even catch up on telly, though I caught up with some Tudors and House yesterday off the IQ, as well as Unit One (I keep getting interrupted during Unit One and it's not a show I can follow easily, as I have to be able to read the subtitles, but at least I noticed that Fischer had cut his hair). Not very impressed with the Tudors but the main problem with it, aside from the huge leaps in dramatic licence and the ill fitting costumes (in a not off the rack world) is the fact that it was cast in the US and quite obviously they went with known names rather than actors who could look the part or do the parts justice. Thus one has to suffer woefully miscast actors delivering awful performances like a heavily costumed daytime soap. Only Sammy saves the day, and why is it that antipodians can do treacherous/tricksy Tudor characters so well?
I mean I like JRM well enough, but not in this. You, Sir, are no Henry VIII.
Of course it doesn't help that having very recently sat through Monarchy whilst ironing (I love a doco or three whilst ironing) so I was re-aquainted with the main characters involved so the complete lack of any resemblance in any of the characters is jarring. At least in UK shows they go to pains to match actor to national portrait gallery and you usually get a luvvie with some skills re the old acting biz.
House I'm enjoying, even if it is silly. If I stayed up for it, I'd be annoyed, but as an afternoon treat, it does well, but solely because I still love the Hugh Laurie.
Also really been into Lewis. Dare I say it in whispered herectical tones, but I think I like it more than Morse. I could never quite take to Morse because I was always a Regan girl, and he never did send the jag screaming through a pile of cardboard boxes, nor demand that anyone get their trousers on because they were nicked, and it was always so middle class, with dire 90s production values, and a distressing lack of be-stockinged men jumping out of vans armed with shooters. So yes, I watched it, I liked it, but I didn't love it.
Lewis is a different beast, surprisingly so (few shows have tried and rebooted so smoothly) and it lacks the baggage I took to Morse and it's got young Mr Fox in it, and I've been a sekrit fan of young Mr Fox for a long while. And Hathaway is a cool character: cryptic, inscrutible and always quietly winding up Lewis, but affectionately so. Lewis, free of Morse's thumb, is still life's butt monkey but I rather like grumpy and not afraid to let everyone know it old Lewis, and while the old copper/new copper partnership is now a heritage plot device, if it ain't broke, you know? And besides, they were sharing an iPod the other week - it was so sweet.
So yes, I like, I like very much. My only grumble is that they make Oxford much, much prettier than it actually is. All those tight camera angles, trying to pretend Oxford isn't awash with horrid squat 70s buildings (putting the brutal into brutalism). It makes Life on Mars look tame by comparison re flights of fancy and camera trickery.
Speaking of which, Ashes to AShes. More on this once I've had yet more time to ruminate but I fear my thrill at hearing ye olde tunes (and the odd nod to video of same) tickled me far more than it should, and that Ashes lacks a certain something - bit of a Sam shaped hole. Not that I don't like Alex. Certainly these last two weeks I've felt acutely for her dilema (Help! Stuck in 1995!) and her relationship with her bitch of a mother is oh so spot on, but, but. I'm not suring the knowing thing works, though it was a nice try to bring a different spin on things, I'm just not sure it works. And neutered Gene. Take Gene out of his comfort zone and, well, he's just not Gene any more. There are flashes and moments, but for the most part it's just a pale reflection of Gene - which could be explainjed either by Alex's second hand experience of Gene via Sam's notes, or London local (little fish in big pond) or just the, horrors, female influence, from Alex to The Great Handbag. Whatever, somebody's pinched Gene's mojo and he's a bit like Austin Powers now, a man out of his time, and a bit of a joke.
Okay, I'll wait till I see #3, but LOM (the original, the classic) had me hooked from the get go. But maybe it needs a few viewings, because they're screening LOM S2 out here and it is so much better second time around (because I know Ashes is coming? Because I'm no longer fretting about the end? Because watching it on the good telly brings forth the nuance?)
Also: Torchwood is much improved. I can't believe it, but it's true. It still has a ways to go, but yes, actually not merely watchable but enjoyable this time round (as opposed to me actually hitting the off button !! a couple of times last season). Alas, Primeval seems to have dumbed down to just awful this year. Do not like the reboot at all. What were they thinking. Though my tame 10 year old loves it and he's the target demo so whatever, but from my POV, such squandered opportunity.
Anyways, must dash, more appointments to be at.