You know it's not just my friend in Seattle who teases me about finding more age appropriate drooling fodder, but, well, bugger it. I like Colin Firth quite a bit (mr Darcy, swoooon...) but he's a crusty curmudgeonly old fart. Well he is. Dear little Colin Farrell meanwhile just lights up the screen and is fekking hilarious anytime he opens his gob. I just love him. He makes me laugh out loud every time and precious little does that these days. So what does it matter? Colin is a million miles away and neither knows nor cares that he made me laugh after a particularly crappy day at work (Irish co-worker threatened to lock me in a dark cupboard if I didn't do what she wanted, I said sure, fine, whatever and she started cooing, as I was obviously all pouty and miserable and fed up to the back teeth). Colin's sound bite involved the old 'now I have an action figure I can play with myself' wheeze, but given the Farrell spin, obviously. Neither will Colin ever know or care that for two nights this week I was in bed feeling very poorly and he was in cable and he made me forget everything for a little while. There is no greater gift and you can't help me loving him for that. That's all we ever ask of actors, to transport us from our cares for an hour or two, and we love the ones who do take us on these little side trips.
I mean, it's not like I'm going to start stalking the boy or anything. With the hours I've worked lately, I don't even have time to wash my socks or read the headlines on a newspaper. I've worked all my hours The next three days are freebies. This is where I sulk and pout and imagine better things I could do with my time, like finish a fic, read a book, watch another Colin movie.
That's why I love and will gladly pay for my cable. The video shops and dvd racks around here are so piss poor, ditto the lone cinema, that cable is the only way I get to see most films these days, never mind the time poor factor. Colin at 11pm after everyone else has gone to bed? Don't mind if I do.
So that's what I did yesterday. I was so green I wanted to get home at lunch but I had to stick it out and it took me two bus rides to get home (I had to stagger off one and be sick, and wait/wobble/walk for the next) so I scraped home in time to catch Ivan Sergei on E!, only the gods still hated me because Foxtel crapped out entirely, for the duration of the interview and no longer. Bugger. Then the gods must have thought they'd pushed it too much as I sulked and pouted through Relic Hunter (nice art deco hotel and obligatory naked Nigel shot) because then I was treated to a Colin sound bite on TV1 followed by Tigerland. Okay, followed by Farscape then I watched the repeated of Tigerland on #33 but you get the gist of it. Warning: this fim may contain a naked and swearing Paddy. Not really having a problem, personally - grin. I really liked it. It said what it wanted to, no messing about, no padding. I really enjoyed the direct, linear, no frills bells or whistles character study. It was like a bottle episode as a movie. Yep, I liked it a lot, Colin flesh notwithstanding :)
Heh, just realised yesterday's post was about cowgirls and included a rant about Hathor. Heh. Hathar? Cowgirls? Boom tish? Oh, forget it. Hmph. Hey, you'd try to be amused at the smallest thing too if your brand new DG just sent you an email saying aside from the 5 million typos you made yersterday evening he finds your work adequate. I'm off to a great start, and to think I thought not throwing up in my rubbish bin was my highest priority yesterday.
Grrr. First my milk gets nicked, then a pen, now my papers (and one had pics of Colin & Orlando in it. when have I ever not made it clear that theft from my desk will result in the loss of a body part? Grumble and dark mutterings. Not quite the mood to want to go easter shopping in but one must and I can't help it if I'm all cloth headed and cranky because I've been violently ill since the brownies. Hmmmm...