mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

  • Mood:

on the QT

Thursday: Well, last night I actually got to do exactly what I wanted to do: wallowed in a couple of hours of Chuck. Thanks to a dear friend I now have both seasons and no longer am at the mercy of erractic scheduling, and I just wallowed in ad free Chuck-ness. I heart that show hardcore.

Oh yeah, loved everything else (I have my own goat now - grin) and the Peanut Gallery exclaimed "Pumpkiny Wumpkinys!" and ran off trailing orange Halloween streamers (you see what I have to put up with) so that was a big hit, too. Will I wear the t-shirt this weekend, or is it too obscure? Hmmm.

Anyway, hit the spot as I did pretty much sit on the couch and sulk during Scooby Doo, and would have continued sulking if not for the Chuckness. Just a pointless, tetchy day of innumerous irritations. And then there was Chuck. Is this the first parody of Danny's Bond I've seen? Quite possibly.

Oh, oh, I forgot to mention, that despite sulking on Oz Day (it used to be a big deal for me so I'm still experiencing a re-adjustment) I wallowed in Basterds and oh, that hit the spot. It is totally and wholly a love letter to Fox Classics, which, aside from being my supplier of vintage gay cowboy porn, is also the home of the spaghetti western and the whole Eagles/Guns/Bridges/Dozen genre and even if I don't watch them all I'll have them on as background or will have seen enough trailers to get the nuances, so I appreciate just how note perfect Basterds is. It just is. And Fassy? What a joy. And I remain bemused that, after the the last few years of sepia toned hagiographies passing themselves off as WWII films, everyone was so utterly shocked and even appalled that QT dared to play with, subvert, lionise, mashup and do what he damn well pleased with the genre. I mean, who else? And for me, it just made perfect sense, mainly because of the intense love QT has for these films is clear in every frame, so I felt no disrespect, certainly not for the medium of old fashioned 60s and 70s war films, any way. I grew up on that stuff (so that's a slightly disturbing tick in the childhood nostalgia column on top of everything else). Loved it, and, as I say, hit the spot, especially as Fox Classics was, for once, not offering up Eagles/Guns/Bridges/Dozen on a public holiday, as is tradition. And Gedeon? Man, what happened? Rex wasn't that long ago, surely. Or was it? (I dunno, we have to wait ten years for stuff, normally).

Anyway, yeah, should have been doing stuff instead of sulking yesterday but there were storms lurking about that'd heave up and hiss and spit whenever I thought of turning on anything expensive, so I stayed my hand, and I wasn't in the mood for anything else more proactive (though maybe I should have been) but I was upset over my cancelled plans, especially as circumstances prevent rescheduling. Ah well, as they say.

Meanwhile I found this quote from Ms Piper, who has been amusing the British press with the most alarmingly off the cuff remarks, however, this one did strike a particular cord with me:
"Even now, the minute someone wants to
define me I feel the need to change. The minute someone tries to put their
finger on who I am, I want to be something else."
- The Times

Contrary misses, the both of us, I guess.

Friday: Well, I tried. I went home on time with every intention of getting onto that file transfer job, you know, set the PC going blinkedy blinkedy while I watched some early evening light entertainment. But no, there were storms prowling about going zzzzt! bang! everytime I thought of plugging in, so I refrained. Well, okay, since I was feeling wretched I thought I'd have an early, early night but no, I was down about half an hour when a friend rang, to tell me they felt wretched, and also to thank me for the Xmas pres which had finally arrived (what gives with the post?) only a month and a half late. Sadly they got no sense out of me because I was all groggy from the just off to sleepiness and the fistful of asprin I'd taken. Oh well. So back to bed, right? Wrong. An hour later four fire trucks, three ambulances and several police wagons rock up and screech to a halt outside the gate (and to be honest, I'm so used to sirens I didn't even pay attention until I heard dudes getting out of said vehicles) but no one came to the door and I've no idea what the go was (I couldn't smell smoke) but there were there blocking off the street until about 1 am so I was up, fretting, making tea and finally getting bored and writing bad fic, but still, you'll notice, not exactly getting an early night. Oh well.

Nothing online either so I guess I'll never know what the go was. Randomly shutting down one of the neighbourhood meth labs? One of the flash bang illegal fireworks/ordinance got out of hand? Who knows. Will probably never know. At least they didn't send in a chopper like they did the time one of the households errupted into a streetwide riot. Fun times, fun times. Good luck with the gentrification is all I can say (they want to try and make this a middle class suburb, but the Gallaghers are not going to go gently into that good night, it would seem).

Meanwhile, I just realised one can use Google maps to write that dire A-Z prose (as in the London A-Z) I dread so much, for example:

Neal headed south-west on Broadway towards Chambers St, then took the first right on Chambers St, before turning again at West St into Canal St...

If you've ever endured the Morse novels you'll have sat through an awful lot of this GPS nonsense (enough to get you around Oxford but that's not my point). I find that style of writing very annoying but I am amused that I could do it myself at the merest push of a button without ever setting foot in the locale in question. How frightfully modern. How frightful, fullstop.

Anyway, I was only trying to look up highways and byways for a minor Top Gear interlude, and since the Boner was still in short pants the last time I'd run up and down the I-95, I thought I'd better google the bastard. Neal, on a highway? I know, but according the rules the two mile limit doesn't apply if Pete baby tags along. Supervisory capacity? I hardly think so, but that's Neal, always pushing the envelope, getting the upperhand and leading astray. Tsk. It will all end in tears, but for the moment, they're having a Persuaders moment, and why not - grin.

Oh yeah, loving The Persuaders, oh, happy box set. I love the Aston DBS, OMFG yes, though we giggle and snort at the early 70s supercars as in one episode the boys took forver and a day to race to the rescue, or trundle to the rescue as it happened, and we giggled over their cumbersome 70s supercars because we've seen those cars explode and fall in heaps in Top Gear. It all sort of converges, and in no way coincidentally, I suspect.

The Persuaders - Car Race

As you can see, not very Top Gear-y at all. Smirk. Ah, The Persuaders, a show that seems entirely to be have been greenlit as an excuse for the boys to drive fancy motors on the French Riviera. Unlike Top Gear, of course.

Meanwhile, I said it wouldn't be long before the old regime returned and once more I've had the three projects I'd sweated buckets over taken off me (without even telling me, I was still working on them like the idiot child that I am) so I've been sidelined again, or made a member of the madogiwa-zoku (window tribe), as the Japanse call it, until I leave. Except the boss badmouths me to everyone so I can't leave.

Still, my new years resolution was not to rage against it, or, at least, to limit my distress to small parcels during the day, and to try and turn my hand to making more constructive use of the free time I used to call working hours. Read Twitter. Phone friends. Attempt to book restaurant. Open Notepad...

"With one bound, Peter was by his side. Neal felt Peter's hot breath on his cheek as he ripped the thin silk..."

Ahem. Weirdly, the WC fic is pressing on, regardless of me or a plot, though it sort of has one now, ripped off entirely from The Saint and I admit that it was brazenly cut and pasted this time as I needed some sort of plotty bits quickly and I was a bit desperate. Usually an idea pops into my head and it's only later I'll realise I've copied an episode or book verbatim, but this time my nicking was conscious act of necessity, and besides, those WC folks would have a hide to chastise, having given us hackneyed versions of those old faithfuls: "The Diplomat's Daughter", "Chinatown", "The Crazy Vet", "The Crooked Ex Cop" and "The Fashion Show". They've yet to give us "The Tranny Slasher" but it can only be a matter of time. (One of their writers didn't work on Rex, did they? I only ask, or are they buying them off the same website - snerk).

What can I say, I love the boys, but as all the reviews say, the scripts need to be better. But who am I to talk, because this story, such a hack, but it keeps me from staring at the wall.

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Tags: chuck, michael fassbender, the persuaders, the saint, top gear, white collar

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