There were some great lines on tv yesterday. From The Saint: "People who say money can't buy happiness just don't know how to spend it", and from Maverick: "I'm gonna shoot you so full of holes you're not gonna know which one to bleed outta first". Is that a classic Western line or what?
Meanwhile I've invented a new word: smilirking. I was going with smiling, got interrupted as always, and went on with smirking, as I am want to do in my befuddled state. What the hey, it bemused. And it's funny the way things are always just a touch darker and/or meaner when I return to them. If I ever had the chance to get down this fic as I thought of it, it really would be all sunshine and lolliopos instead of and angst and pity fest to rival the Winchester wangst. Oh dear.
Meanwhile, Neal finally gets everything he said he wanted...and finds it curiously unsatisfying.
I think dear Neal is a touch empty on the inside. Either that or very confused about what he really wants, whatever the case, heaven knows he's miserable now. Which is only to torment poor Peter, whose happiness lives or dies by Neal's, and as Neal is very rarely satisfied with anything (flighty perfectionist that he is), well, it's a long, hard barren road for poor Peter. Peter is the puppy in peril in the fic. Well, Peter and Satchmo, both puppies imperiled (and Satchmo is hardly Rex now, is he, though he should be, as a counter to Moz, Peter needs his own friends - grin).
Man, either I've lost my tolerance for these things or I've got myself a good batch, because these painkillers are sending me so loopy I can't type straight. I suppose it's been a while, I've been lucky enough to wallow in weekends for the last six months or so, not have to work through it. Not that I can right now because I'm having a full on 60s cop show acid trip thing going on here right now.
And here I was tossing up whether I go to the play I wanted to see, or go home to a hot water bottle and Spartacus because I was poorly, but now I might have to toddle home for my own safety. And I only took one, but wheee!!!
Two days later...
Well, that sucked. So I decided to forgo two hours of Kafka, without intermission, because it was cold and wet and I was all crampy and feeling crappy. I did want to see it, but I thought a night of telly was far more my speed (even though I hate wasting tickets).
Bad decision. One blackout and the cable is knocked out (and was still out, last time I checked) so no telly. No Spartacus. So there I was, tired and miserable and no telly. That kinda sucks.
Thursday wasn't much better, and waiting around for a delivery man and repair man never to arrive. I could have done something but I kept jumping up everytime I heard a truck so I didn't. Grrr. Oh yeah, did I mention the dryer died on Saturday? That would be when I hung the clothes out, bang, rain, and so I think, okay, Plan B, dryer. Booft! Okay, Plan C, hanging up on foldy thing in the spare room, but, well, it's been a week. and still no dryer. And no telly. And no play. And, as I have to stay home tomorrow, no fete, either.
Okay, so I did get to finally watch S5 of Supernatural. Now there's a problem with those five year plan shows. Not only do you have all those who never go the distance, but what do you do when you get another season. It kind of undercut the dramatic resolution, but never mind. Holmes got undeaded too, so it's not a new, or original, problem.
Oh, I had thoughts, but I've such a well, Kafka day today (complete with bear fluffing) I completely forget where I was. I should have jotted it down. Oh my, but they were babies in the flashbacks. Man, the show has been going such a while. The boys look tired. Ah well.
I did like the Impala being the ultimate macguffin, even though I'm usually so over the whole maguffin thing. This time I felt it was well earned and heartfelt, it was important, it deserved to save the world, and, yeah, it was kinda sweet, too.
Finally we got to see the brothers on the same page for the last few episodes, and, man, I've missed that. I don't care about the freakin' apocalypse. I just care about Sam and Dean. And Cass. And Tonight's TV: Sherlock (the latter two actual deus ex machina'd back into play, can you say reset button?)
I was reading some other comments about other shows (I think it was in DWM, but I'm not sure, it's been a week) and how the plots and objects matter abut it's the character interactions, it's what the people we care about do while getting from moment to moment, that we care about. Other shows I watch, please note. We care far, far less about macguffins and conspiracies than we do about the characters, their interactions and their journey together. We want the quiet moments, in between the action. Some of us, in fact, could care less about the action, we just want the interaction.
At least some of my fave shows get it.
We were watching Coupling (and Spaced, with the homage-o0meter going, wish others had that) since there was no True Blood to be had, and we probably would have followed up with Leverage had not my box set of Ellery Queen arrived at last. Sorry, Tim, but Hutton Snr was always my number one boy.
Now I've been getting quite a few tv faves from the olden days, and most have been rather dire, but Ellery Queen, it stands up. Firstly, these seem to be very nice prints they've used. And also, I was genuinely steeling myself, especially after reading the back cover and thinking it was going to be just the Love Boat with crime but no, it's more like Poirot and Midsomer Murders (ie luvvies getting it in silly ways). Okay, the passively aggressive breaking of the fourth wall gets annoying (gawd, no, Jim, I had to go make a cuppa, I missed all the clues, please forgive me), but I liked it.
Okay, yeah, the victims all leaving CLUES in their last moments also gets wearying, but it's a quibble. Yes, the show has a rigid template, but at least the coppers aren't barely functioning eejits (more like Ellery's enablers and protectors) and then there's Jim. I still love him. He's so cute (but I'll stop now cause it's kinda creepy). Through in guest appearances by other dead faves like Jack Kelly and Roddy McDowell and, well, I was happy.
Sorry, not getting a thing done, last week or this. Though I'm liking this shirt. This is the shirt that makes the wheels fall off, which would be annoying, but if you just want to sit beside the metaphorical roadside having a picnic, it's perfect.
In other words, work is still a basket case and my inbox is offline so at last I get a chance to catch up on what I couldn't over the weekend.
Did I mention I finally caught up on Supernatural S5? Yeah, I know you're all on six, but thanks to living in the land of no Winchesters (or broadband), I had to wait for the dvd to come out. Which it did.
I still can't believe they missed doing the old 'no, there is another', even though that whole plotline was a selfconcious suckfest, or maybe they did and I missed it, popping up every five minutes for repairmen and delivery men that never came.
The dryer is still outstanding, after old faithful decided to faith no more the other (wet) weekend, but this weekend was blustery to say the least so we got two weeks worth done and dry on the old Hills Hoist so screw you, Big W.
And honestly, the public perception is that ebay isn't reliable, but let me tell you, I've got everything I've ever ordered from ebay, including the weird and wonderful, but deliveries from my local stores? No chance. Will have to go to the police tomorrow. Again. Sigh.
Btw, parity, you might think it very odd of me, that I should enjoy the dollar parity...sorry, but whee! This hovering around the parity mark for the first time in my adult life is just delicious. If the bank balance wasn't already abused so, it'd be gearing up for some serious abuse, let me tell you. Finally, I can allow myself on ebay. Oh, the visceral satisfaction of beating some uppity Yank in an auction. I'm sorry, but having been to so many cons for so many years where cashed up Yanks just walk in and buy everything in sight, including everything in the auction, just because they could, and then bragging loudly about it, well it was obnoxious in the extreme (and just the sort of crude behaviour that would get you what for in an Ellery Queen episode). Just once, to beat them at their own game. Yes!!!
I know, 90% of Americans that I've met are super lovely people, but to that 10% who really made my blood boil: gotcha.
Next week the dollar will be in the toilet again, so just for now, I want to enjoy it. And, really, who doesn't love getting parcels from such mythical and wonderous places like New York? So exciting!!!
UPS parcels tied up with string, these are a few of my favourite things.
Sorry, where was I? I could say after the week I've had I decided to watch something cheerful and upbeat like Wallander, but honestly, it was finding a very nice piccie of Tom in a mag on Friday (one day, scanner, one day) and thinking 'Oh, Tom....no, wait a minute, fuck you, Tom, oh forget it, oh, Tom....', etc. I'd already had S2 moved to the top of the viewing pile and thus it was that on Friday (late) and Sat (early) I caught up on two episodes. Bleak, bleak, bleak with extra bleakiness and arty cut away after arty cut away and when did Ken get so old? (Don't answer that).
But I was right. It did suit my mood. And the weather. OMG, it's mid October and there was 15cm of snow in the mountains and I felt it, each and every ice crystal, having gone out dressed for mid October, not mid Winter, and I froze as the wind cut right through me. Still, it wouldn't be the great village fete day if there wasn't some sort of weirdness going on. It's not quite Midsomer, but it's close, as the area used to be very Little Britain (but is now Little Korea) but this is hangover from the old days and I love a stall and the coloured flags and balloons were flying wildly and I've discovered that 1.5 blocks is the optimum parade viewing distance. Just enough to see the flags and streamers and so Prisoner it hurts umbrellas wave past and seem so magical and otherwordly, without being close enough to see how naff and tragic it really all is.
I wasn't going to stay for the parade but I did, watching from the next rise, as I was (I'd only just finished my sweep of the stalls, my annual indulgence). I bought a hat, a hand painted bowl, some cheap pendants and an entire box of herbs, all planted up now.
Sunday was spent in the laundry and in the back yard. I'm sure when I say gardening folks think I'm wandering through ordered hedges like some Jane Austen heroine. Lawks, no. Me, getting sweaty and dirty and covered in spiders pulling out fistfuls of jungle-ly weeds from beds I'd cleared only the week before, destroying my favourite fangipani (I accidentally snapped it in two) and trying to re-pot my ailing fave geranium in a new location (but I think I just hastened its demise).
I was so knackered I had to pass on the ironing and I thought I'd have to pass on Sherlock too, but I stayed up for it, somehow. I have the dvd, but I was curious to see how badly EvilChannelNine would treat it, but the ad breaks, though many, were placed as well as could be expected, and I couldn't detect any huge cuts, the kind that usually cause spluttering on other shows when viewed locally. It was also easier to watch on telly (which came back on, just in time) because I think there's some flickering or something on the dvd player that gives me the most stonking headaches and it was nice to have a break from it.
And it was Sherlock. Nothing new to say here, except that I love it. I love it so much that I kept saying 'I have to see the next bit' until of course, end credits.
Then I discovered that show I really like that I couldn't remember the name of on Friday (I was that tired). It's called Chuck, and they're repeating S1 late on Fox8 and if they play it again next week, there might be a chance of Bomer. No, not over Bryce yet, Subconscious really says not.
Speaking of which, there was typing of a sort on Saturday since I discovered Catch Me If You Can on, and since I'd not seen it since it came out I thought it was time for a revisit, homework wise. When White Collar said they were inspired by what they mean was they'd ripped off the last half hour wholesale. I was really quite astounded at the audacity, and worse, the one little tick I thought Bomer had given Neal that I really liked (the constant fiddling) was a direct steal from DeCaprio, so there's Bomer sliding way down in my estimation, again. Sigh.
Still, it was good to see it, because it clarified some things the White Collar pilot left me confused about (would that I could see a complete version like they did in Europe and Canada). Helpful when trying to knit these damn fics together into some sort of sense.
Not that coherency or the complete lack of it bothers some. I'm still sure Spirited dropped an entire subplot/scenes/episode because I'm wtf on so many things. But my abiding love for Henry covers many quibbles.
I finally managed to catch the finale of Spirited. Like other shows, it seemed to have a really obvious 'no, wait, we got renewed' epilogue tacked on the end, but I don't mind. More Henry. Yay. I think they're filming S2 in January. That'll be hard on a weedy English boy. Heh.
At least the chaos around me has given me a quiet window to catch up on stuff. But not typing, or writing. I looked across at the park and it looked lovely but I just wasn't in the mood. You can tell I'm kinda over it at the moment when I refer to it as homework. It's a labour, and not even of love right now. Hmmm, maybe I need a night off the typing, and just watch something. Well, Sherlock is on again tonight. That'll do.
And finally, would that I could say the same, but alas, the cruel smack of the football is still my only reward, but at least some of us are getting up and above:
“I had a strong sense as a kid, who was constantly belittled by vile PE teachers, that I would prove people wrong who said I spent all my time daydreaming,” says Gatiss. “When I’d walk around the perimeter of the football pitch in the p---ing rain and feel the terrible smack of the football against my cheek, I had an inner conviction that I could somehow make use of my geekiness. And I’m very pleased to say I have.” - Mark Gatiss
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