I've been over indulging in tea. Big pots of tea. Though not as bad as that time I had the enormous supersized pot of tea in New York (and went wee wee wee all the way down to Battery Park). Heh, I don't think there's a cafe twixt Union Square and Battery Park I didn't have to race into in desperate need. And it's just like Italy, right, so you have to buy a drink to use the loo, thus becoming trapped in a vicious cycle...
Second only to that time in Scotland where we trampled the tweedy folk underfoot dashing into a remote pub after some desperate miles on the highway after an unwisely large pot of tea (well, it was cold).
But you don't want to hear about my teapot misadventures.
Sorry, it's been a week, and then some. Where were we? The muffin of kindness? Yes, I think that was it. Mercifully, the next day was out at the branch office, which meant a lazy lie in with coffee and papers (thank you, house boy) and then a quick bus trip (did I mention my regular bus route was scrapped, thus adding complexity and hours to my daily commute?) to the very door, or near enough.
I like the branch office. I can bitch to friends and be much petted with much tea and sympathy (such is the rep of of my tormentors), which is just what I needed. I was having so much fun, and my wee pc which I'd brought in, suspecting I'd have to work off it, was also much petted and admired. So much so that when the EBQOD showed up to surprise me, she found me in fact surrounded by the guys from one unit, actually talking shop (with maps and charts even) but also joking around, and it looked one one of those old WWII photos, you know, some nurse happily encircled by cheerful squaddies. Like that. And she was so taken aback. So taken aback. These are the moments one treasures. Yes, this was me, hanging out with folks I don't loathe on sight. That was fun.
Thursday I was out at another office (I don't mind being errand girl, it's supposed to be punishment but, except for when I had the broken ankle, never is, the complete opposite, and I got another coffee for my efforts and got to play tourist in less travelled parts of the city) for half a day, then meetings, then staying back late to help another branch office pal (fixing up a doc before it had to go under the nose of the EBQOD) so I damn nearly missed Chuck, and I'd hate to miss Chuck. In fact, I surprised myself with how much I'd hate missing Chuck by the way I slammed my coat down and nearly broke the buttons when I got held up by something else.
It was the Angel of Death episode, too, which is so 80s tv it hurts, but I liked it.
Next up was the last episode of The Tudors. The King is dead, etc. Sorry, hope that wasn't too much of a spoiler - grin. REsisted the urge to switch off after still pretty Charles Brandon kicked. Dear Charles. Dammit, will I ever see Mr Cavill in anything I'm actually willing to watch again?
It was kind of a weird episode, with Henry being visited by the ghosts of wives past. I half expected him to lean out a window and order a goose for Xmas, or something. But if the mad, bad king was going to change his ways, it was far too late, and he duly carked it, leaving the nation with unresolved tensions that still swirl about to this day. Ah, well.
Then it was the return of Burn Notice, or as the Peanut Gallery dryly observed, tonight, probably, next week, possibly, after that, shrug. Such is the programming dept of Channel Ten.
So, Michael was back, and very quickly out of his Number Six situation (really, really quickly - did I nod off?) and off to see Michael Ironside, who is offed via model plane six seconds later (wtf?) and then we have some semi-heartwarming reunions with Fiona, Sam and Mrs Westin as well as the usual gun play and odd moments of extistential angst from young Michael. And yet...well, I guess they had to tie up loose ends and kick start others but it sort of resembled the tv episode equivalent of one of our 'what's in the fridge curries/stir frys/bakes, you know? Bubble and squeak. It's still Burn Notice, but it was a bit messy.
Also, because I've been watching Press Gang on and off, I'm getting these weird Fiona moments when she huffs like her younger self, and oddly seems more British that I usually think of her, if that makes sense (it's sort of like watching House after a box set of Wooster and/or Blackadder). It was just oddly distracting.
Alas, I can't tell you about Supernatural (fell asleep), Deadwood (ditto) or Lewis (worst of all). I'm so ashamed, but it's been that sort of week. I did stir briefly to catch the bit in Lewis where they completely destroyed the wonder that was Hathaway once and for all, and turned the set off in a huff. Yes, it's pretty much put a red line through all my fics, but worse than that, it's just made Hathers so pedestrian, so ordinary. Hathaway was an enigma, and now he's just, well, more boring than Lewis. Sigh. I was planning to watch it back on the weekend properly but now I have stuff on. Grumble.
So, do you think show writers should colour in every single detail relating to their characters, or leave a little mystery for the audience to fill in, however they like. Are writers who bio-dump OCD but audience interpretation? Are they writing a rod for their own back re later stories which now cannot possibly happen? Does a show/character become really boring when they over share? Answers on a postcard, please.
Meanwhile I'm very much amused by the latest White Collar pics. If the lads are where I think they are, and it sure looks like my rapidly fading memories of that once well trodden street, then I think they're like a block or so from that fave tea shop I found that waxed lyrical about the 'joy of sucking balls' in their window (they sold bubble tea as well as the usual). So there are the boys, very possibly a short distance away from the joy of sucking balls. A mere hop, skip and a jump. Unintentionally and extra textually end of the pier ooo-er hilarity. Okay, so you had to be there, but, by crikey, I never thought they would be. Smirk.
I can just see the DoP now: "No, no, no, I think we'll stand you in front of this shop window instead..."
Wheeze. Yes, easily amused (and to be further amused - thank you).
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