Ack, it's cold and dark grey and seriously wet today, rain lashing at my windows wet, and so it has been most of the weekend. Yes, the men in ties are sneering at my snuggly top today but I'm cold, it's really cold by my windows in winter when the rain is hurling itself at them and I'm saving up my remiaing good shirts for days where I've actually got meetings. I know it's just me here today and as most of my contact is via email and phone, does it really matter?
So I watched 1969 on Friday. It wasn't as bad as I'd remembered, though Daniel's Cherman accent was still wince worthy and they all looked like my infants school teachers fashion tragic wise, which as you might imagine, was very traumatic for me. Still, there were some nice smart Jack moments and yes, this is the episode where Jack gets The Scar.
After that it was The Tick, where a woman showed up posing as The Tick's wife and Arthur accused the Tick of bigamy. Chortle.
Saturday: Woke up at my usual time on a grey day but had the pleasure of snuggling in bed watching Sports Night et al before I had to get up and get dressed, not walking out the door just as Sports Nights starts as per usual. It wasn't as snuggly as the fluffy bed in the hotel, but it'll do and after the last few episodes where Dan and Casey had been trading vicious insults and nothing else today was the hug and makeup episode. Awwww! So I was happy.
Set off in my new fluffy coat, made of pure black teddy bear pelt, to catch bus and train all the way to the end of the line to meet my friend. It was supposed to be to see X2 again but she'd had an overnight Road to Damascus conversion to the Church of Farrell (at bloody last, I say, after she stood me up for the Recruit - twice) so it was off to Phone Booth we went and was I complaining? not a bit of it. I really lurve the massive megaplex at the end of the line. BIG screen, stadium seating and actual sound quality, not to mention popcorn that hasn't been sitting there since The Empire Strikes Back. I impressed her with my ability to scoop off an armful of popcorn and drinks etc one handed without any effort or thought. I didn't mean to, I'm just so used to being fetch and carry girl. Still, it's nice to impress with my ability to carry armloads o'crap.
So instead of a private screening in broom closet number five we had a near private screening in a really cool cinema :) Mmmm...big screen Colin...drool, gush, dribble, slurp. I liked this movie. Apparently it was spawned from an idea from The Hitch and I love Hitchcock films so that was a point in its favour, and the movie involves having to watch Colin and listen to Kiefer being really, really evil and oily so no hardship there, not by a longshot. Ahem. I just loved Kiefer in this, he's sooo good as a bad guy and he's so much his father's son in roles like this. I kept bouncing about saying "Who's ya Daddy!" because there is no need for a paternity test there. Not at all. Mmmm, evil Kiefer. And, man, didn't his character just have a hardon for Sleazy Stu. Aside from the whole stalking thing and the psycho-sexual issues of the sniper rifle, or even the way the very, very badly Photoshopped laser spots (come on, the Profs did better!) that slowly caressed our boy, sliding down his shirt (we were hoping Kifer would ask the boy to start popping open the buttons but no such luck), no, even with all that it was the sniper's description of Stu's shirt as a lovely raspberry sorbet that had us in giggles. Not the most het way to describe another man's shirt, in our experience, anyway. Titter, titter. Yes, a very enjoyable film if you wanted to follow the sexual subtext between hunter and prey.
Joey from Dawson's Creek was as cute as a button as usual and the chick from Neighbours looked like an aquaintance so that was spooky and well, who cares about anyone else. It was all about Colin and Kiefer and that's just fine and dandy with me. Another one for the dvd collection when it comes out (8th July according to my research).
Please note that About.com lists Phone Booth under romantic movies. Giggle. Snort.
After that it was chicken teriyaki bento for lunch - yay, nice food for once, Starbucks, Borders and more shopping (cause it's a nice mall, slack mole free, aside from me). Heartbreak in Tree of Life as a top I adored wouldn't button up (and it's not like I'm a D cup) but I did find Dougray on dvd for $14.98 (Enigma) in the dvd shop which we found, eventually (hey, I was following Captain WrongWay, never a good move). Also added to the Clint Collection and friend failed to get in a comment about Harry et Johnny, thank frell. I try to repress as best I can, I truly do.
Then I grovelled a lift home because it was pitch back and pissing down and it was only 4pm.
Discovered to my horror, as I've not seen it in ages, that they took Smallville off. Whine, wail. So I rationed myself to only watching one episode in my backlog on Sunday morning. The whole Lex is told Clark is his brother but he ain't one, though I like the flashback with baby Clark feeling up baby Lex - grin. It's all getting very soapy.
Sunday was still pissing down with dark, cold rain (and weren't my birds happy about that - it's all my fault, you know). Woke up for Sports Night then snoozed again. Feeling like giving my life over to the sin of sloth, lust and gluttony I wallowed under the doona, smashed my easter egg open and embarked on a dvd and vcd festival that included the Maverick episode which they popped on the end of Unforgiven, which was fun (I really, really miss all the old westerns TV1 used to play) then I thew in Firefly: Jaynestown, which had me crying with laughter. Jayne is easily my fave and this episode was just priceless as nobody can come to grips with the idea of Jayne being worshipped as a folk hero. He even had a statue and a song, oh dear. Too fekking funny. After that my dvd player refused to play anything but Few Dollars More and I thought, why not, and settled down looking to be inspired and sure enough I was and it's a damn fine film anyway. It kicked the muse along so I was doubly happy. It was just like easter - cold wet days, Clint and cheap chocolate - grin.
After that I needed another Firefly fix (thankyou), though I am trying to ration them out, so this time I picked Out Of Gas, which I also loved, especially the bit where they make Simon a birthday cake and he asked them how they knew it was his birthday and Mal says the latest warrant for his arrest had his date of birth right there. How sweet. Of course all hell breaks loose so I'm starting to suspect that Joss Whedon is the only person on the planet who has more traumatic birthdays than I do. Simon's growing on me too, not that'll do me any good to grow accustomed to his face...
Unable to stop myself I indulge in another fix, this time Shindig. Oooh, sword fights, fancy clothes. Heaven.
And, I might note, that little wooden bridge that shows up in just everything filmed in LA finally put in an appearance. Admirable points for restraint for waiting six episodes before filming it. Somebody should do a web page just devoted to that bridge and everything it has ever appeared in. Me I guess since I always make it jackpot points if it shows up in an LA based show (I sub the dam or the quarry for BC based shows).
By now I should be watching that Dickens special but the presenter's upper crust speech affectation hacks me off so much I decide subliminal Jack Davenport isn't worth it so I pop in Angel (thankyou). Which should have carried a warning that it contained Barry Manilow. I loathe plot spoilers and content warnings but I think there should have been a warning about the whole unhealthy Manilow obession. Like this is supposed to make me want Angel back? I'm thinking not. Still, we had cool Wes, Faith and Willow (hitting on Fred no less) so that was fun.
Then it was Daniel Deronda, which again had me spending my time scribbling away. Love the Bamber but the goatee distresses me and Hugh Dancy seems very much a poor man's Ioan Gruffudd, which is not a good thing. All of the facial tics and none of the charisma, as far as I've seen so far. Then it was 24, more Kiefer, more scribbling, and I let my vcr watch the Dr Helm episode of QoS for me. I'll watch that next weekend, should it be suitably damp and depressing, still.
After indulging in hour upon hour of Westerns my great Ezra scene worked out to be just a paragraph. Damn, I think I'm going to have to rework. It's just Ezra getting dressed but it's not meant to be titilation, rather he's dressing for a funeral, his own. It's supposed to have the air of ritual suicide about it (harkening back to the show's origins perchance, or just too much chop socky in my tv diet?) but right now it's just Ezra getting dressed, Blast. Oh and hopefully I'lll be able to keep this fic a Wyatt free zone though that bastard was everywhere. I could even throw him in an Angel flashback if I so chose, but I don't.