Caught up on Dollhouse, which was okay, but still not sure. It is exactly what I thought it was: Joe 90 meets Charlies Angels, and I'm not sure I cake about any big, dark Wolfram & Hart type backstory, but hey. Sunday was a whole lotta ex Buffy allum cause I also watched Bones, Castle and Merlin.
Oh yes, Merlin (she types as the intense jackhammering going on in the building causes my cup and pens to shimmy to the left and then shimmy to the right). Oh Bradley, swoon. Okay, moving on, it was a repeat of the brain eating cockroaches one (way to hit on one of my fears, cheers) and it's interesting how Merlin is used as a bargaining chip. Couple of question: how do they explain the dead guy, or is it okay fr Arthur's batman to go around cleaving folks in two with axes? Or did Merlin and Gaius decamp and let CSI Camelot deal with the mess? also, what with Gaius's dark past as a denouncer, is his protection of Merlin his way or trying to atone? Because quite obviously there's a lot to atone for and quite obviously the kingdom is still traumatised by their own private holocaust. And what, I may wonder, has any of this done to young Arthur's psyche, being born into such horror with a distant, grief raged dad on a genocidal rampage? Or is Arthur really that dense and oblivious? Or am I just too bemused when they do the whole 90210 rich kids have issues too thang?
At least the series errs on the good old English stiff upper lip. No Combat style weeping and wailing on Spooks either. Okay, so a couple of stiff upper lips quivered, but still, duty called.
Oh yes, I watched the first episode of series seven, mainly cause it's on opposite Supernatural tonight (and, ye gods, I'd rather watch Spooks) so I'd been putting watching it off and off and off some more but it was a wet afternoon and time for my last Rupert Penry-Jones dvd. Cue my stiff upper lip quivering. Because he was gorgeous, but I'm afraid I'm like those faithless women described in one review that mourned for a bit and then embraced Mr Armitage. Because, oh my. Oh my indeed. And you know, there are precious few actors I would have have accepted in lieu of Rupert, and Richard is one (Toby Stephens is the other). So vale blondie, hello Dick.
Tues: Didn't get to watch Supernatural, as such. And I was kinda annoyed because it didn't start until, like, eleven, so I coulda watched Spooks, except not really as I was expecting SPN to start at any moment. As it was, I was still effing about on the interwebs, catching up on the f-list and stuff. Tsk.
Yesterday I came back from a long and pointless meeting (deckchairs, anyone?) to find someone had been at my desk, helped themselves to my tea and pens (I'd left my drawer unlocked in a senior moment), eaten all my grapes, and wiped their chin with my tissues, read my papers, been through my shopping and opened up my bag of Starbucks coffee grounds. Used coffee grounds (that I stagger home to heave onto the garden). So I had to tape it up again with government issue tape, so needless to say my shopping bag is gritty with coffee grounds. And you wonder why I am counting the days until I am outta this place.
But I will miss the stuff outside this office: the park, the cheery free paper vendors, the old guys with the fruit stall, the overly chirpy American blond in Starbucks, and my faithful old newsagent, whose shop was broken into yesterday, all sorts of things taken, including the dry cleaning. So it wasn't the time to tell him I was going to have to cancel my subscriptions. Damn it all, curses on those pencil heads at head office who'll never realise the upheaval and inconvenience they cause moving us around the chessboard. I suppose I should be hoping I can find a slot in a suriving dept rather than worrying about distressing my old friend, yet I do. Also, not gonna be able to have bookshop trawls with my buddy from the other dept on the other floor. Bugger.
Oh well. A kindly neighbour has offered me some excess plants to plug the holes in my garden (she's decided to go camelias) so that's something. She knows how much effort I expend trying to honour thy mother's garden, so it was nice to chat to someone who understands the emotional undercurrents as well as the aesthetics and efforts of the thing. Also heard back from tree guy #3 who sounds very promising re understanding the job to be done and for the right price. Now I've just got to trust Bertie Wooster to be home to tradesmen. Oh dear (I feel I need lessons in decorum under duress from that master, Jeeves).
Oh, I'm such an old fraud. I've just spend a good ten minutes bagging out a campaign that is trying to be hip to the kids, and goverment depts should never ever try to be hip to the kids, it's as cringeworthy as a baby boomer in jeans, but then I immediately ran into the author of said campaign who, as always, looks as though he's just stepped down off a marble plinth, so I'm all girlish flutter. Oh, hyprocrisy, oh shameful behaviour, oh fie, thou feckless female.
But aside from that, same old, same old. I'd very much anticipated a luncheon in the park but while it had come onto sunny patches at lunch time, I'd witnessed it bucketing down while enduring yet another meeting (I always try to get a window seat) so that was off, love (so now I feel I should have stolen a few moments this morning, damn annd blast) so I popped out for a snack, being weirdly hungry despite having homemade potato pizza for tea last night (but I wolfed it down knowing a heavy net session was in the offing so it barely registered, wickedness that I am) but at least I ran into upstairs buddy, who loudly asked if I was enjoying Merlin. Well, yes, but steady on the volume, old chum, as I pride myself in having my co-workers think I'm as dull as my jumpers (as a means to plausible deniability). Still, it was nice to catch up, even if it was only for a few minutes in the construction site that used to be the lobby.
Wed: Why do I work in a place where a trained ferret is a serious option? They've got workmen and equipment in the server room so IT can't get in there and give the aging machines a necessary poke, which is where the trained ferret would come in. Time for another cup of tea, methinks.
Meanwhile, no pie last night but an excellent curry, and I was gasping for a curry ever since Mr May waxed lyrical on the subject on Sunday's Oz and May. Which is hysterical only it seems to be far more about two boys bitching and moaning than beer, which is probably the point. I just wish they'd name the beers they're enjoying so much. I know they can't because of BBC rules, but it rather renders the whole escapade moot, which brings me back to the main point of watching: seeing two grown men be very, very silly (and ever so slightly gay, and I stand by that after the episode at the hairdressers, good grief).
Anyways, missed the start of Pushing Daisies but I did catch the bit where they pulled the clown car out of the lake and kept pulling dead clown after dead clown after dead clown out of the wreck and I laughed so hard I was in danger of injuring myself. Beat that, Bones! Okay, yes, Pushing Daisies is twee in the extreme but it is so darkly funny. I love it to bits. And look at the Peanut Gallery. From "I wanna watch Dr who repeats" to making Pushing Daisies pie in a matter of weeks.
Then, after looking forward to Apparitions all week, I settled in, all cosy, and...fell asleep. Oh dear. Well, it's a rough week and they play rough here. I think I will end up very badly because management don't like me. In fact, given their treatment of me yesterday, that's a dead cert. Oh well, same old, same old (it's not my fault that project went tits up because they locked me out of the process because I was asking questions that needed to be asked and answered).
Never mind that, I found a few choice quotes in the papers this morning:
On the face of it, the BBC's Robin Hood is a terrible television programme. Jonas Armstrong's Hood looks like a member of a boy band that got lost in the woods after a team-building weekend and has been forced to live on nothing but hair gel. His arch enemy Guy of Gisbourne is essentially a goth, brooding and troubled, tormented by both Maid Marian's rejection of him and the realisation that the Sisters of Mercy will never again tread the boards of Nottingham University Student Union. Historical accuracy, or even a vague effort to look and sound medieval, does not come into it. - Guardian
Mobbed by fans when he played the Russian agent Illya Kuryakin, what has McCallum learnt during his journey from U.N.C.L.E. to NCIS? “I only do acronyms.” - Times
So that's all about the news so far. Things are afoot, and it's pissing down so now park today. Sigh. I heard a rumour that they might recreate the Dept I first started with, all those years ago. Oh boy. Cue Bowie song:
Do you remember a guy that's been
In such an early song
I've heard a rumour from ground control
Oh no, dont say it's true
Anyways, I'm just gettin' too old for this shit. Went home, had a cuppa, watched Maverick. It was a Bart episode so the poor boy had to get tied up by the dude from Nanny and the Professor (I said it was that guy from that show - grin) and then wrestle injuns and a showgirl. A touch uncharacteristic for young Bart, to be sure, but never mind. Then I hopped online and heard the Cartwirights arguing who was going to tend to an injured young farm hand and I guess Hoss won the toss because as I was typing away I heard bathtime splashes and giggles and as I slowly raised my eyes from wee PC's screen to the tv, the scene that greeted me was a helluva lot more Brokeback that even I imagined. Oh, that's gonna be stuck there on the retinas for a while. Oh, my eyes. And don't say I'm watching it wrong, cause Team Maverick had a few unkind snarky things to say about the Cartwrights, and given last night, oh dear.
So anyway, that's where we're at. I bought some dinky little cups this morning. Don't need 'em but they matched my other ones (oh dear, a collection!), picked up some more coffee grounds (Bertie failed to deliver the last sack to the roses), a cup of Earl Grey tea (which I seem to be sweating these days, I've quaffed so much, well, I'm having yet another week) and, that's pretty much it.
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