You said it, my lad. It has been just awful. I know other folks have being doing it much worse elsewhere, and I regret that, but this last week has been a sore trial, and one I failed, as always (that lack of good grace, my constant failing). Failed the garden, too, but what could I do? Throwing buckets of grey water scooped from sinks and tubs at the problem didn't make a bit of difference. The herb gardens are completely gone. Sigh. Why, I ask again, is half the country under water but my garden is reduced to brown withered sticks and stalks?
Seven days of 40C/100F
This land of drought and flooding rain really takes the pickle sometimes, you know?
So, the weekend? Horrid. Tried to get some interwebs done on Saturday morning before it became simply too hot to bear, and that bloody bad tempered parrot (aka The Captain) thumped onto the little cafe table I have set up on the back porch and tried to snatch and fling my wee PC across the length of said porch (a netbook is no match for a cocky who bowls grapefruit for mischief). I get it, he has the porch every other day to himself and I was crimping his style, but, well, really. So much for a little quiet cool time before the sun was properly up.
Gave myself sunstroke good and proper hanging His Majesty's five thousand socks under the blazing sun and retired for the rest of the day, not even reading of watching telly, just curled up, kinda not happy. Wibble.
Didn't get any writing or typing done, sigh, but I just could not do it, and I don't think it's a task that should be attempted under extreme duress, lest I do an even shoddier job than usual. Sigh. I miss those quiet, cool mornings on the back porch, tippy tapping away, before any other creature stirred, not even bad tempered parrots (far, far, far too hot and stuffy in my attic room to attempt any turning on of anything electrical, not even the bed lamp, alas, even on normal days).
I did turn on the telly in evening for a late smattering of salad and an ancient Morse (and a passive aggressive Lewis), that sent me happily dozing with the slightest breeze, but alas, as the credits rolled it grew hotter and hotter until by 1 am it was unbreable (the coffee shop guy agreed, he grew so hot and bothered he had to take another shower and as he's so Captain Awesome this is not a mental image I mind at all, dribble, dribble). Fortunately there was a silly 60s dinosaur fillum on telly, but, well, ack.
Sunday and tempers started to flare, and not just mine, the streets crackled with the sounds of angry snapping. The weather radar was anxiously peered at, squinted at, pleaded at, and at last the southerly arrived, full of bluster and lowered temps, but not a drop for the garden, dash it.
So yeah, I slept all night, but you know how it is when you've slept for the first time in ages - it actually feel worse. So feeling very hungover and thick tongued and fat fingered stupid today, so please bear with.
I did, however, get some telly in. Okay, yeah, but after Saturday, do you really think I was going to leap up with a broom the moment the cool change swept in? Well, actually, I did, but that was about the limit of it. That and watering my dead plants. Again.
Saw Leverage 3.14-16, Chuck 4.13 and Good Guys 1.14. And what perfect tv that was.
Oh yeah, Hawaii Five-0 MKII 1.02, which was less good, but we were high fiving over the Crazy 'Nam Vet trope making a very early appearance (second episode!), with bonus nasty Russians. Yay! That said, and my slightly outraged glee over surprisingly nostaligic sets/locations/plots, they are seriously incompetent for a so-called crack team. I realise it was to serve the purposes of the plot (such as it was), but, crikey. The only saving grace of the show is Danny (I refuse to call him Danno, such things are sacred). The plane stunt was perfect. We watched it twice. He rocks. As for the rest of 'em, well, is there any chance of coaxing Wo Fat out of retirement? Pretty please?
Chuck? Perfection. I was gutted to learn there another 11 episodes because that was the perfect place to end the story. Just perfect. Chuck avenged his father, rescued his mother, proposed to Sarah, took down the bad guy and finally earned the respect of the General. Casey was Casey (his growled 'Jeffster' was classic), oh yes, Jeffster, Awesome losing his cool and, the best of all, Morgan and Chuck starting out on a mission that looks about as silly as their fake mission from the pilot (you know, before we cut to Bryce Larkin, super spy, swoon, gush) but as it goes on it quickly becomes Chuck Bartowski, super spy, and, full circle, he has become Bryce, the object of so much bitter envy in S1. Actually, it's kinda creepy, the way Chuck has Bryce's job and girl now, but, because it's Chuck, it's kinda sweet, too, somehow.
Anyway, the perfect, perfect place to end it, but no. Oh well. Can I also say that Timothy Dalton made for one of the best campy tv villains ever? Beating by only a small margin...
Goran Visnjic in Leverage. I seem to recall reading something about him being up for a Bond baddie at some point? Missed a trick there because the man is fabulously oily evil, but suave, very suave. Me likey.
Ah, Leverage. When I heard about the seasonal episode I was all ready with the cringe but it was the funniest thing. Yes, okay, Parker gets in a twist over Xmas and any excuse to put poor Eliot in a Santa suit, but the Santa fight was to die for. Overly twee, but the subversive elements somewhat made up for that.
The other two episodes, well, I can see what my friend meant by exclaiming 'too silly!' re Eliot, but the later part, with the election, had enough bite re electoral campaigns, to have me laughing out loud, and, at least on some shows, the cat and mouse are allowed to finally climb into bed together. Perfect.
Well, at least my shipper self was getting some satisfaction because my poor slashy heart is damned to eternal disappointment.
Apparently, having seen enough spoilers just skimming through the LJ without actually reading anything, and I knew they'd do it after all that tease, tease, tease, they've decided to go big time on the daddy issues on White Collar, cutting the slash off at the knees, and all to general cries of 'badly done' from the fanbase. I saw the words 'epic fail' and 'jumped the shark' as I skimmed across. Oh dear.
I swear, I am only watching that show for the leads, and one day soon (perhaps when I see the ep that has caused such a ruckus) it'll be another one of those shows with guys I love but I just can't sit through, because the writing is so juvenile on White Collar. The audience is mainly college educated women and gentlemen, and yet it's like it's written by sweaty, pimply twelve year olds who've never even cracked open a CliffsNotes. At least on Leverage, they know there stuff and their Saint episodes and what to riff on and what to leave. Same with Chuck and every 80s reference, etc, they manage to stick in there, but with loving and tender care (like the Beauty and the Beast style opener).
White Collar? they borrow from Department S, like last night on the organ donor episode, with the whole fake hospital thing, and it is just so bad. Can Jason King please waft through and show them how it's done? Or at least put Neal in his place? Thank you. And that episode. Yes, we have the 'you're the only one' moment (though as if that means anything with the way Neal lies, snipes and belittles all the time, even the better fans than me are finding him just plain nasty these days) but the rest of the episode is so wrong. I don't care how many moral and judicial sins the bad guy of the week had perpetrated, what they did to him, faking a serious medical condition, was, well, a direct ripoff of an episode(s) of MASH, but also well over the line (something MASH would touch on, from time to time, but never so much as whispered here). No, it was 'fun'. Neal enjoyed that far too much. The kid has a really nasty, cruel streak to him, enough to make me worry about small fluffy animals and FBI agents. Psychopath.
Pretty, pretty psychopath, but psychopath just the same. Doesn't mean I won't watch, though, cause, you know, Holmes being a complete bastard doesn't stop me watching Sherlock, but still, at least Holmes is never intended to be likeable, but Neal is meant to be a charming rogue. Mayhaps, but he's also a screaming psychopath with a nasty streak of cruelty and a taste for vengeance. Yikes. If only they'd do it properly. Right now, Neal seems like a wolf in a candy coloured cartoony world. Trust? It's Peter's blind trust in Neal that I worry about.
At least some shows know how to do a buddy cop show. Vale Good Guys, I loved every minute (or so far, as I'm still getting it down in dribs and drabs, wherefore art thou, dvd?). I picked an episode at random off the HD, just to make up the disk, and what a corker. Jack's grifter uncle comes to town, causing all manner of strife, and Dan seems to go along with it, in his usual, wonderful, take that Gene Hunt, shambolic way, until we get to the kicker. Dan, despite every appearance to the contrary, is not an idiot, he knows what Jack's uncle is up to, gets one step ahead of him, and leaves him with the blistering note: 'Stay the hell away from my partner. He's my family now.' Awww, Dan!
Now that's how you do a buddy cop show. The lesson endeth here. And sadly they did, cause it got axed, but the good stuff always does. Sigh. But what a great episode, to treasure forever. I'd rather have clumsy man hugs over Neal's waspishness any day.
RL? I'm surrounded by so many seriously ill people I'm just throwing up my hands. I can't cope. I had another bad panic attack this morning and that was just trying to get myself out the door to the bus stop. Didn't go and see the Chinese New Year parade, either, pout. I can't even do stuff I want to do these days, let alone stuff I really, really don't, and I'm so over bowing to duty and expectation.
I was the good little milksop who actually did feed the poor and read to urchins while everyone else was getting wasted and having sex and going to rock concerts (in any order or combination of the above) and I am just so over it, this expectation of duty. I'm sorry, but I'm still traumatised over the last few years and I've got nothing left in the tank. That's not to say I don't care, I do, but I can only outsource my care via cards, flowers and hampers right now. I'm just too wobbly myself for anything more demonstrative right now. I am a total shit and I know it, but I'm running on empty here, and if you saw the state of the house you'd know I'm not just saying that.
But at least my Aunt is out of Egypt so that's one less thing to fret about in the middle of the night (aka getting up time).
Too gloomy outside to wallow in the park. Pity. I think I could use that. Some quiet just sit there me time. I know it sounds selfish but after twenty years of you time, it's time for some me time. Badly timed, I know, but you broke me. You finally went and broke me. Weather hasn't helped. I am so damn tired.
Matt King: 'From 45 degrees to 17 in two days. Sydney weather is hatstand.'
Finally, some relief after hottest night in history
Human brains shrinking in size, say scientists
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white collar 2.12: barking up the wrong tree. In SO many ways.
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