Friday: Some darn fool male just turned off the taps in the sink so hard I think I injured myself trying to get some water with which to wash out my tea cup. You know there's a study that relates excessive tap turning to sexual inadequacey and dysfunction. I'm just sayin'. Showed that article around home and no more immoveable taps. Seems like Ill have to pin it to the noticeboard here, because, hey, like try and spot the uptight nerd on a floor of engineers and IT dweebs.
Saturday: It's cold, it's wet and I should be in bed or going shopping, but I'm not. Why? Because I'm a moron. Because there's a con on and I completely forgot I'd bought tickets to it, so I thought what they hey.
So, the Jonathan and Andrew show, and that's exactly what it was. Either they decided to do the show in character or that's what they're really like, and no acting is actually involved. To be honest, I couldn't tell you which as it was a mall appearance appear, wave, sign, bye type con, rather than a getting wasted at the bar at 2am con (which I obviously much prefer). They were also disturbingly slashy and yes, I found it disturbing because I was sitting with my dear but non-slashy friend so I had to squirm and not laugh in all the right/wrong places as they boys kept feeling each other up with alarming frequency. Lots of wrong touching going on. Okaaaay...
No real news as spoilers were verboten, no gossip as they now know it all ends up on the net (bugger) and yes, it was Tom in the Cadbury ad. Apparently they were freezing for the "We Are Gods" bit and Danny broke the wall in S6 when he was thrown into it and when he was in the monster skin no one would come near him because he smelt of sulphur.
They were mainly talking about what they were doing next (yawn) and ideas for a spinoff, my fave being the idea of Andrew hosting a geeky version of Antiques Roadshow, where he judges the value of Star Wars figurines, etc.
And yes, he is only three feet tall.
So that was it. I came, I saw, I had a great time chatting to my friend, I got my autographs, chatted with friend some more, then went home with a raging headache. Note to cigarette smoke sensitive friend - this ain't the con for you because it's in a frelling RSL type club in the frelling western suburbs. I mean, what the? By the time the guests hit Stanmore they must think they're being kidnapped.
Not that I want to sound all bitter and jaded. They boys were very funny for the hour they were on, but that was pretty much it. It's not the sort of con that facilitates fun and memories.
Sunday: Oh, the pain, the pain. Bad, bad headache, Spend most of the morning feeling awful and throwing up. Finally keep a cup of tea and panadols down in the afternoon but I just loll about in front of the telly rather than catching up on now two weeks worth of tv. Watched The Specials (featuring Rob Lowe as The Weevil and Michael Weatherly as The Verdict), Homicide and Daniel Deronda. So that's this Hugh Dancy everybody's been raving over. I think I spied Jamie Bamber, too.
I wasn't that rapt in DD but it did facilitate at least two pages of fic, so that's okay. It's hard to get into a show/book where the characters are so unlikeable. Proof that mall princesses were alive and well in the Nineteenth Century. I mean, could she be any more like Cordelia (oh crap, I hope not, considering where CC ended up)?
Monday: Damn, I wish I'd dragged The Beast, ie my ye olde huge and heavy digicam to work because I could have taken the collest pic of the enormous full moon splashed over the mirrored face of my building. I mean, cool shot, and it's prove how gdamn early I get here. I need one of those weeny digicams, or maybe a mobile that works and takes photos. That'd be nice. I like to take photos, sometimes for art's sake, sometimes to prove I was there, sometimes for memory's sake and sometimes just to observe and record.
Speaking of which, I would have taken more pics at the con but after all the nasty emails re my HL pics, so very fuck youse all. Ungrateful rabble. Usually, I post my pics it's like take 'em or leave 'em, and I guess I've been spoilt by Farscape fans actually saying thankyou, but I've never been insulted en masse before. Bloody last time I go to a HL con, I can tell you. Anyways, at FSF I was right up the back and being harrassed by a dozen big burly camera nazis, so not many pics and none good, anyways.
Damn, I wish I was at home re-aquainting myself with Raymond Chandler, catching up on a fortnight's telly or, gasp, writing more M7 fic. Especially as I was dreaming M7 last night, only it was ATF, gak, and I think it owed more than a nod to Time Trax, not that I remember much except that my now very out male friend used to torture me with it for hours on end. Weirdly, even with the fate of the world in our hands ala 24, in my dreams there's still always time for a Borders stop. Guess where my subconciousness's priorities are. Shagging the boys? Not a chance (not even in my dreams are guys interested in me, was put down very harshly by a teenaged alien the other night). Saving the world? I don't think so. Borders? You got it. I so need help.
Alexis visiting an animal sanctuary in the UK
Ack. Somebody in my fine instituion just insisted I colour their web site in something that just screams Wake Me Up Before You Go Go, which had me screaming no! no! and tearing at my eyeballs. So I've shifted them down a few shades into something a little less retina searing and hope they don't notice. Why everyone here has their taste stuck in the 80s I don't know, but my poor brain is razzed from enduring too many of their colour schemes. At least I have the facility to change it on 'em - evil laugh.
Last night I had my first pomegranate last night. It was bought as a present on account of my being a victorian invalid again and I was curious but I gotta say, after reading so many references in poems and text and seeing so many pomegranate themes in art I gotta say, highly overrated and overhyped. What you get is a plant full of slightly bitter seeds in bright red jelly that stains everything and it tastes kind of like rose water and I guess it's the sort of thing you pick at over the course of an afternoon but frankly, to this child of the 70s, it weren't much to write home about. Not that I didn't like it, but I wouldn't walk across broken glass for one. Still something new for me, even though it's an old, old fruit (she avoids making a bad pun about some British luvvie at this point, but it's a struggle).