And thanks to the kind offers of friends to help me out with the sudden and inexpiable White Collar addiction. I don't mean to be pissy, but it was fairly dastardly for Ten to give me a taste, get me hooked and then take it away. And, like I was trying to say, those dear old Brits have lately spoilt me of late with their great generosity (and I fell into the trap of expectation and normalacy instead of being extraordinarily grateful every time).
I've also filled up on sushi, so I'm feeling a bit better. I've been unwell and not eating all week and it does tend to turn up the tetchy, just a bit. Well, that and people going out of their way to annoy me (colleagues, bus drivers, bored shop chicks, microsoft). Oh yes, Microsoft, the upgrade I need isn't sold here and the only solution is to wipe the machine and start again. For the fricking love of hell...
I also think I am now seriously coming down with my usual late Jan/early Feb cold and as always, it's the one week of the year when I have everything going on (like last Feb, that fortnight I was out every second week, with the flu, oy, I didn't get over that until, like, October, November, never?). Here we go again. Why do I do this to myself? Because it's all on this month and the rest of the year stretches ahead as a big barren wasteland of nuffin. Sigh. But it's gonna be hard. Please bear with.
At least I got tomorrow off. Once upon a time I used to be proud of my origins but I'm not allowed to do that any more so I'm just going to ignore it (even though I couldn't even point to all the places named after my ancestors, built by and holding the bones of my ancestors, this is my country too).
Now, White Collar. I was thinking this morning on the bus, surrounded as I was by the usual gents covered in prison tats, wearing their detention devices and incoherently organising their drug buys on the mobile (over and over again, and that thing about goldfish might be a furphy but it certainly applies to smackheads) got me to thinking that two miles (3.2km) was rather generous (though these chaps were doing ten times that), and was Peter's house within that two mile orbit? Was that why Neal has such a generous tether? I suppose it'd be a touch irritating to ping every time he dropped by Chez Burke (and he does, a lot, it's even his bolt hole now, touchingly), but I was just thinking this stuff out. You know, the way you start to pick shows apart (like is it red or mauve alert in Dr Who?).
I was also browsing the paper and read about a young scam artist who started defrauding banks and living the high life at fourteen. I wonder how old Neal was when he started? Family profession (ala Sarah in Chuck), or black sheep of the family? Not that it matters and nor do I want the complete Neal story because I like the blank canvas, so to speak (I think Chuck ruined it a bit for me in S2 delving too deeply into the characters but what can you do?).
And it's weird that I'm wrapped up in White Collar because I love Chuck more, but I've never even been to the official website, let alone anywhere else. What's up with that? I guess some shows I'm happy just to watch, and other shows I need more (probably because WC isn't quite delivering the way I wish it would, but that could just be the local network editing, the difference between shows watched later on cable and dvd are to make them different shows entirely with b plots and supporting characters and character moments restored). Speaking of which, really enjoying Carnivale this time around. It could be the medium (last time I watched it on my mp3 player cause I was between tvs) or just the moment or the fact that I'm more into it now (weirdly it has more rseonance) and T. DeKay was looking mighty fine when he made that, I must say.
And, conversely, I can't watch The Fixer on SBS because the constant and never ending ads drive me bats. I much prefer my claustrophic one single disk per night viewing experience.
Anyway, need to get another cuppa. I'm off out tonight and all I want to is curl up in my bed. Sigh. Ain't it the way? Couldn't sleep last night because this hobgoblin-like little key ring I'd picked up somewhere in my travels leapt on my in the middle of the night off the second bookshelf, a distance of about a metre. Discovering it was just this wee green hobgoblin thing in my bed did not make it any less Twilight zone-y as it did it with such a thump and a crash I thought it was a possum at first. Freaked? Just a bit. Needless to say, I was a bit too frazzled to settle back down again for the 45 mins until my 4am kick off time.
I should have gone to bed at nana hours last night, as it was cool, but no, I had to wallow in this Doris Day film where Rock Hudson spent a large amount of screen time in bed with Tony Randall. Oh yeah, me and my showtunes and vintage gay porn. I worry even myself, sometimes, but it was just so bemusing and delightfully domestic. Kinda sweet. I love old stuff like that where they were as camp as camp could be and apparently nobody ever raised an eyebrow. Oh, if only White Collar could get away with some of those shenanigans now.
Actually, a lot of stuff on Fox Classics raises an eyebrow, for me at least, but it's all good clean tie me up in my underwear and tell me that you love me fun. What more could you want?
And I wonder why I love Chuck so much - grin. Oh why oh why did they have to kill off Bryce???? Why? Why? Why? (Apart from the obvious, which is no excuse as far as I'm concerned).
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