Ever since I read that the original 1965 version of Kimba was coming out on dvd (yay, though I haven't seen it since I was in kindergarten) I can't get the damn theme song out of my head. "Who lives down in deepest darkest Africa? Who's the one who brought the jungle fame?
oooo..." ...help me...kill me now...
Don't rain on my parade: Just had another happy email from a very satisfied customer as I roll out my newly designed cms. All the users love it to bits, they think it looks brilliant and it's very useable. Managment grizzle and nitpick but constant fault finding is the management style of this office and who cares when the users love it and that's the main point only there is no point as the Dept is to be disbanded. Bye Bye Intranet. Bye bye me, according to the latest rumours. I try to stay positive but I can't sleep, I feel dreadful and my hair is falling out in handfulls. Stressed? You bet.
As if life wasn't bad enough my prank caller is back but obviously they don't believe my blog when I say I'm working 14 hours because they keep ringing when I'm not home. They're giving my poor Aged Mother the pip though. Some people. Get a life, you cow.
Happily I did get home just in time to see, but not tape, Colin being near legless and incoherent again, but alas beeped this time, damn their anti-free speech Yankee ways, and big Angel spoilers, James Marsters declaration of intent to milk the Spike cow for as long as he can by joining the cast of Angel and subliminal Michael Biehn at the Ghosts of the Abyss premier. Considering he was only on for three seconds, that I managed to get that he had a mo and slicked back hair, as borne out in the pics above, was pretty good, considering I was so blind I couldn't read file titles on my PC that evening.
After that it was washing up then Buffy, the ones where prissy priggy Xander and Buffy, being even more unlikeable than ever get all judgemental because their exes, and they surely dumped them, went and had a pity/revenge fuck. Hello hypocrisy. What Spike and Anya do with their lives ain't none of their business. Puritannical pricks. They have no right to say anything. I hate them. Er, not that it hit a nerve or anything, I just really, really hate arseholes setting themselves up as moral judges on everyone else. No higher ground there, even Mother agreed. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, yadda yadda yadda.
Angel I'd not seen before due to a horrible mixup between an obscene amount of mersyndol and a vcr timer, but I didn't miss much. It was the Gunn sold his soul for a truck episode. Fred and Gunn, who are supposed to be so much better than Wesley just come off as horrible, shallow, self absorbed self centred fucks who rely on everyone else to sort out their problems of their own creation entirely and yet scream like harpies at Wes while he's in his sick bed. Nice, real nice. Somebody kill them, please. The only person who is in anyway good or noble is dear Groo. I miss Groo. Wes is sadly misguided and noble, which works for me too. Fred, Gunn and Cordy are slime though. American slime - well, the other more decently behaved characters aren't American, curiously enough, ditto Buffy. I guess it's just the way they are: my needs or a good beating, take your pick. No thanks, I'll stick with being an Anglophile for the most part. I just don't like people who are so mean like that. They're not nice people.
Please excuse my mood today. I dragged myself into work, overtired, fluey and pmessy, only to discover I'm the only one who bothered, so now I feel like shit and I'm doing the work of a whole section. This ain't gonna be pretty. Duck and Cover. Defcon 2. Run, flee for your lives.