At least being dashed unwell has given me an excuse, or at least, I've given myself an excuse, to catch up on the stack of disks waiting viewing. Got my Fassy fix in Haywire, with bonus Ewan McGregor, and young Mr Tatum getting the snot kicked out of him as well he might.
Anyone who can't properly enunciate the name of my most beloved fictional hero, sacred to me since I was ten, deserves a good arse kicking my opinion, but this is what I get when Hollywood hires ex-strippers instead of someone who has been to drama school and done theatre and Shakespeare and television before hitting the movies, but Hollywood knows best. The sooner somebody properly discredits the American mumble school of acting the better. It's not deep. It just requires closed captioning.
Anyways, also got bonus Fassy fix when I found X-Men on cable. Yay Fassy. With added McAvoy, for good measure. J' Adore wee Jimmy McAvoy.
Doubled up on Peter O'Toole when I watched How To Steal a Million, which is a joy, a silly, daft, joy, and then found Lawrence of Arabia on cable. Swoon.
Then, yesterday, clocking off early, I settled down for the nearest thing I had to Chuck, where screwball rom-com meets the spybiz, and played This Means War, and I still can't believe I now own a Reese Witherspoon film, but I do love Mr Hardy, and it really is just a buddy flick, so much so that I am still smiling over alternate ending #2 on the dvd. Oh yeah. That would have been my choice if I'd been in the focus group, but I wasn't, and probably for good reason - grin.
Like on White Collar. Why can't Peter just ditch the ball and chain and admit he's truly, madly, deeply in love with that charming conman, that devilish rogue Neal Caffrey?
Never gonna happen, not even as a dvd extra, but I keep watching, or would, if it ever screened out here (not that it matters, it's been moved to a channel I don't get, but they don't show it, so it's all moot).
I know where I've been going wrong. I should always watch White Collar when I'm having a really bad time because then, and only then, the prettiness that is Matt Bomer cheers me up. Much like his little turns as Bryce Larkin in Chuck used to, after some equally shitty days.
So, feeling deprived, I finally made time to sit down and watch the last three episodes of series three. I'd been holding off, lest they torpedo the fic completely, but as I'm never going to finish it, it's all by the by. And, it was kind of funny, or alarming, because instead of going off to some crazy place, I saw some of the ideas I'd been playing with, that Neal was running a long con on Peter, that if this were so, Neal still might be a touch conflicted because he really does like Peter, that Peter loves Neal and all that covering and lying and breaking the law he's been doing to protect Neal is gonna bite him on the arse. So it was interesting to see that on screen instead of imagination. Somehow, White Collar seems to have taken a step back towards reality, actions, consequences, loyalties, etc, the dramatic grist of the show instead of chasing after this fanastic macguffin or that, which is part of the show, yes, but never at the cost of character which is has so often been. Finally, relationships which have played off screen and in the gaps between chases comes to the fore, and I like it. It's about time the various factions started to seriously war for the soul of Neal Caffrey.
Also, it looks pretty, in that glossy way that Hustle brought back to tv (sharp suits, cameras pointed up, shiny buildings, blue skies, all part of the Hustle rule book and faithfully copied here) and Bomer is one of the prettiest boys ever to walk the earth, so that's no bad thing either.
So it was a happy viewing experience, for once. Less so with the series two repeat on W last night, the copycat one (oh, how many times did they play the wayward professor in the Saint alone?) but not even Bomer's pearly whites could gloss over how wretched I was feeling. No sleep for coughing makes a girl very tired and cranky (and in no mood for office games).
I should never watch Once Upon A Time when I'm not well. It started to annoy me with the twisty turny-ness of it all. It seems to drag, too, compared to Buffy, which these days moves at near Downtown speeds because I only get to catch a couple of episodes a week and I can't keep up with who broke up with who and who's evil this week.
That's it. All telly, some folly with the housework and too much sitting up trying to catch up online than was good for me. Trying one last trick with the tablet today before sending it off to the old tablets home, so I'm really not happy about that. I've had to go back to listening to the radio, watching broadcast tv and cracking open books. It's all very last century.
Meanwhile, it looks like one of Arkady's lucrative enterprises has been rumbled in the real world. I must have read something about it somewhere, because when Arkady assures Peter he can make people disappear in the fic, he means it. Swimming with the fishes is so last century for Arkady, my modern Russian capitalist, not when there's money to be made. Well, it was a good scam, clearly. Damn, I hate it when the headlines steal my plot twists.
And I probably shouldn't pick on alleged actors who mumble, at least this week, as my coughing fits have reduced me to a croaking whisper and/or mime (but at least got me out of a meeting today = win). Oh man, it's been a while since I've been this unhappy, so I'm being a complete baby about it. Can't help it. My Dad turned all the walls and ceilings of the old house dark brown with his chainsmoking, so whenever I get a cough it goes straight to nasty, no messing about. I've been chain-drinking pots of green tea and honey since Saturday. It's the only thing that's keeping me upright.
Sunday: Been dreadful sick, proper flu sick, but if I never finish this fic it doesn't matter, you'll have seen it all before, and not just the cutely weird synchronicity of current actual White collar plots, either. I've got plots playing out in reality, and no one needs to imagine what Arkady gets up to on the weekends anymore. I thought I was going to have to tone that boy down but he'll be boring by the time I ever finish. If I ever finish. If it's not duty it's effin influenza. It's enough to make one cry. Or watch a whole lot of dodgy and/or classic dvds (Defiant Ones, Spartacus...others) while sick in bed. More on that later. Duty calls.
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6 July 2012
23 July 2012