mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

It must be Thursday, never could get the hang of Thursdays

Bus driver laughed at my little disco light this morning, but at least he stopped. Yesterday the driver saw me but still stopped grudgingly a block away. Turns out he was the guy who zoomed past me on Monday and he was filthy with me because he'd gotten in trouble. He was going to go past me again to serve me right, then realised I'd just ring up and complain again. Excuse his attitude. Very much what the hell do I think this is, a public bus service or something? Well, actually, yes. It's like trying to get a book out of the State Library. What?! You want to look at a book? What do you think this is? A library?!!!

And so on and so forth. What really gets my goat is when I rang up to complain when they'd zoomed past mother, pointing out that they'd left her to stand in the hot sun for over an hour, there being no shelter (never mind that she stalked home for a cup of tea and a bitch), they comped me two free tickets. I never get free tickets. I never get comped. I didn't even get comped a night that night I woke up to find a thief in my hotel room (the locks were easily popped with brute force, as the police officer demonstrated). Hate Best Western. Still can't sleep with the lights out.

Maybe it's an Aussie thang. They say no books, I say yes Sir and creep away meekly, whereras an American would come back with his buddies and burn the place down. Well, they do that in the movies and real life when they don't get what they want, first time, everytime. I guess it's because they have a long history of overthrowing rightful governments and because of them we've always been under the thumb. Certainly the Brits weren't having any repeat peformances, though Macarthur and his gang got off scott free. Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir.

Sometimes I also wonder about some Americans and their inability to accept 'I respect you but on this matter, I'm afraid we'll have to disagree' as a way to end an argument. It's always my way or the highway, you're either for me or agin me, if you don't agree me and my buddies are gonna git you. You see it in world politics and you see it in fandom. Distressingly I see it in a lot of Australians who had had too much contact with American slash fans. Just can't agree to disagree.

I'm always open to a well argued opposing view, all my years on the debating team, I guess, and I can be swayed to a different way of seeing things, like the African American friend who pointed out that many of the Stolen Generation did in fact go on to have a better quality of life and were able to have careers that would not have been open to them otherwise, which I'd never properly considered. It all depends on perspective.

Last night Bro and I were discussing Buffy. Unlike me Bro thought it was the best episode so far, he liked the demon, more Him than Gollum he thought, and thought the scenes of cannibalism was the grossest thing he'd seen on free-to-air tv. Well, maybe if I hadn't been pulling leaf sized strips of my own skin off me (blisters and sunburn) these last two weeks I'd have been squicked too. Willow is such a big girls blouse. Whine, whine whine. I've got no skin on the soles of my feet and I walk home on sticky new not quit skin every day (hence the comfy shoes and fluffy socks). Wuss.

That's probably the problem, I don't care about Willow anymore, or respect her. She used to be my favourite but last year they destroyed the character for me and Alyson, much as I love and respect her and thought she really looked hot in the Purdy gear, she just hasn't been able to redeem Willow for me. I'll add a hopeful yet, but the clock's ticking. Throw in the fact I haven't liked Buffy since season 3 and bad con experiences wiped out Xander and Anya and I loathe Dawn and they've ruined Spike and's like people still left on my Xmas card list because I've not the heart to cut them out of my life completely, but they don't mean half as much to me as they used to.

Firefly I love though. I fell in love from the first bar fight, though I'm such a cowboy slut. Wish we had the US Hallmark schedule here,and I really sympathise with Mal these days.

Am whimpering because I have to hand across my precious vcds (thankyou again, so much). I gloated you see because friend couldn't play them. Now friend has new multizone vcd able dvd and friend wants me to hand 'em over. Dirty pool and that'll learn me. Not that I mind sharing my stuff with people I trust, and note that the people I trust have been friends for decades whereas the people I didn't because they showed no respect for my stuff such as keeping food off it are no longer speaking to me. See, sometimes when I listen to my inner voice it tells me true. Made a copy of vcd because my inner voice is wavering just the tiniest bit on this friend (the work burner burns like a dream, no wonder everyone uses it). Friend I trust still has the Farscape and B7 tapes (thankyou!) because she might as well keep 'em company while I was on holidays, after all.

Turns out Bro didn't notice the alarming outbreak of nepotism on Relic Hunter this week, with Anholt snr and jnr both in the episode. How could he not recognise Tony?! Okay, so Tony was my fave on Space 1999, the least threatening, watching from behind the couch as I did. Okay now we laugh at how bad it is and how the monsters wore sneakers but when I watched it I was only a little thing and it scared the living crap out of me. Heh, if Christien and Juliet Landau ever appear in anything together, it'd be Space 1999, the next generation. Perish the thought, says Bro with a shudder.

Funny, I've been dreaming about going back to uni. Seems I might get my wish. Rumour is we're being moved out to Dubbo. Dubbo! I am so quitting.

Had a quick look at the jobs section. Several non IT jobs that are my old job that I could do in a pinch. Half the pay, no more holidays or dvds, but I don't think I could do another IT job. Sigh. My life, ladies and gentlemen. Just when I start to climb out of my hole the ground opens up beneath me again without warning. And just when I was trying to look at the loss of my mail as an opportunity to devote the time I would have spent reading it to typing instead. My life has too many lemons right now, like that old Fab commericial. Can't possibly make that much lemonade.

  • Sean Pertwee
  • Lava Lamp Music
  • McKellen back on London stage

  • British trio among 'Hollywood Kings'

  • An expert can always pick them

  • The rise of the metrosexual

  • Curious teenagers need to be informed about sex, not controlled

  • You are now entering the fic zone. Rated PG for sex and violence mentioned in passing, but not actually shown. Some drug use but DJ has nothing on Dr Maturin. SNAFU 2: FUBAR:

      Jack gritted his teeth for the, well, to be honest, he'd lost count of how many times Daniel had crashed through the undergrowth sounding like a razorback about to charge. Moving quietly through enemy territory seemed more than Daniel could manage.

      The problem was that Daniel was completely arsefaced. Jack had wanted to slip away quietly in the dead of night, but Daniel had insisted that would have been very rude to their hosts, and to be fair, Daniel did have a point. Without these scary little guys both Jack and Daniel would have been dead several times over by now.

      So a big shindig it was, a huge send off barbecue of roast something, Jack didn't really want to know what, with buckets of the local brand of kava being passed around. Jack had pretended to partake, tasting only what wet his lips as he raised his cup, what he deeply suspected was an old, hollowed out and polished brown skull. Jack wanted to keep his wits about him, constantly reminded of the skull in his hands.

      The local rotgut was so bloody potent that even the little that had dripped onto his skin had burned and tingled and given him a slight buzz.

      Daniel was right into it though, tossing the stuff back the way he usually tossed back cans of red bull, the over consumption of which also being known to adversely affect Daniel at times. Jack was no stranger to having to go after Daniel armed with a net and a tranq gun. Well, sometimes.

      Jack was also beginning to suspect that anthropologists were only into it for the vast quantities of quality shit they were required to sample, all in the name of science. Jack had always thought the airforce knew how to party hard, but they were nothing compared to wild eyed anthropologists.

      So after the big, big bon voyage party, with Daniel barely able to stand, which was all Jack needed, there'd been speeches, with Daniel barely able to translate, and an exchange of gifts. Jack had bequeathed them his knife, because it was a good knife, and cultural contamination was a moot point at this juncture. He was pretty sure the rescue team, if they made it, were only 20 or klicks away, so Jack would have a knife again soon, and he desperately wanted to meet his rescue party away from this village. He'd seen enough in his time to know a unit of jar heads would open fire first on a bunch of unfriendly looking friendlies, and ask questions second.

      Lastly but not least the chief gave then four young newly initiated warriors, all aged about eleven or twelve, to act as their guides. Jack tried to refuse but the chief would hear nothing of it and in the back of his mind Jack wanted these kids along because they'd know all the bolt holes if they ran into trouble. He had to remind himself that these weren't kids, they were blooded young men. Yet it was a blind spot Jack found it hard to get past. The Charlie factor, Sam called it, when she thought he couldn't hear her: his stubborn refusal to put any child in danger, boy soldier or not, because he had not been able to protect his own son.

      So they'd finished packing their gear in silence, without so much as a kiss for old time's sake before they returned to rules and regulations. Jack was mad at Daniel for drinking himself legless and Daniel for his part was all huffy, almost belligerently so, as Jack kept ripping crap out of his bag, only letting Daniel keep what trinkets he could carry in his inebriated state. Daniel had given him the full, proper, burn through steel, stop a Goa'uld in his tracks glare but it was an argument Daniel was never going to win because Jack wasn't going to be budged a millimetre. Safety always came before scientific discovery. It always would because there'd be no papers for Daniel to write if he was dead.

      So here they were, with Daniel crashing through the undergrowth so loudly he was probably scaring off all but the largest predator. The young warriors, like Jack, were equally appalled and amused by Daniel's drunken antics.

      Bloody hell, though Jack, he'll fall down a pit and we'll be right back where we started.



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    • My tweets

      Fri, 13:02: Ooh, I've this one 😍 Fri, 13:08: RT @ MarcDavenant: San Carlo Restaurant in the snow, New York in…

    • My tweets

      Thu, 12:42: RT @ SketchesbyBoze: I just want to know where they're going Thu, 17:26: RT @ WellyParanormal: Fan of…

    • My tweets

      Wed, 20:11: You can't tell on old cheap phone pic, but the moon was going full Bunnymen tonight. I've had a miserable day and my socials are…