Friday: I was left alone to my own devices. Means, motive and opportunity. After staying up all night I was a bit punchy and I amused myself too much that the pics of Emily Mortimer on my Sharpe page seem only to ever feature the back of her head. Heh. If I really didn't like her then, imagine how much I don't like her now. Too funny, though. My childish pettiness amuses me, at least.
Decided enough with computers, though, and enough wth websites that don't exist and fic that I am obviously writing solely for my own amusement, which should be enough, anyway, really.
My code on these old pages, btw, sucks and blows, which is why it's such a time consuming and brain sucking task. I was still learning then, of course, and html was still very much evolving, but the real reason the code is so mind buggeringly bad is probably because I was going out on pub crawls with drop dead gorgeous young Irish backpackers at the time. Fuck me, those were the days, all right.
For the worst year of my life, in hindsight it had some definite high points.
My code still sucks and blows though. I'm trying to make it right but some pages are almost beyond help, or beyond my patience to fiddle with them until they are just so. I don't really care that much any more.
So, anyway, curled up to watch Stargate. It wasn't a particularly good Stargate, it was the bounty hunter one, but it had some mighty fine Daniel pants action so it wasn't all bad. Always gotta look for the silver lining.
After that it was a very ordinary Jonathan Creek which I wrote through (part three of the perils of Billy, like you care) and then, ah, pleasure, ah, satisfaction: Spooks. Peter Firth was classic tonight. Okay, I've forgiven him for that Highlander episode. Another episode like this and I just might forgive him for that Magnificent Seven episode (no, really, he was). I loved him pretending he was giving them a good telling off and I adored the line about missing the good old days of being able to spot the public school traitors by just looking for the pipe smoking sodomites. Squeal!
Though, really, nobody thought the uber hacker was the aloof moody loner student? I mean, really, do these people not watch television? It's always the moody loner student. Fi. Great show though. Classy, classy, classy. Mmm, feel the quality.
After that it was Glasshouse, Great Gatsby with Toby Stephens, and I'd never realised just how freckly he is before (I guess US makeup artists must not be used to fair Brit skin like that because oh my, he was freckly), and Roswell.
Saturday found me craving another Spooks fix so we watched the first two episodes - Bro had missed the infamous chip shop scene. Clasy Brit telly made me crave more so after that it was three Ultraviolets. Mmmm, Jack.
How come Buffy never used garlic tear gas, woodchip grenades or carbon tipped bullets? How come Angel never wears kevlar? And which immolation-o-gram came first?
Then I had my much needed Dick fix, and I knew I was drunk because I actually said Dick fix out loud instead of translating it from me speak into human tongue such as: I was enjoying a retrospective of Damian Lewis' fine performance as Major Richard Winters in Band of Brothers. Nope, it came out as Dick fix so I knew I drunk, that dangerous kind of drunk where you don't feel it but everything you say or do bypasses whatever filters you might have going for you.
I know, you're saying I'm always like that. I'm always hugely sleep deprived, which is the same as being legally drunk, studies have shown this is so. Sure, I only drank half a bottle, but I'm a cheap drunk. Just ask, well, just ask folks who've been out drinking with me. ;P
You see it was Xmas in July tonight, which is basically an excuse for a roast dinner with all the trimmings that doesn't invlve 40C+ temps. It's an Aussie thing, we have to have Xmas in July if we want a Xmas dinner not at the height of summer. It's much better eaten in colder climes. So we had turkey and tatties, stuffing and peas, and wine, a very nice wine.
Missed Mutant X but I don't care. I'd seen that plot as an Adventure Inc episode anyway and after all that good telly I wasn't in the mood for bad, though I did sink in front of Mirror Mirror (yep, I know Trek titles, who doesn't?). Classic.
Then I treated myself to Ocean's 11. That was cool, a homage to a lot of fave old caper fims of a classic era. Then at last I switched over to Stargate the movie. alas, poor Skarra - ain't seen it yet but I've already been spoiled on that plot development, dammit. Again with the creepy, Jack, but this whole film has a degenerate kink factor to it that the series lost as it went on. Dammit.
Flicked across to, surprise, Stargate. The one where Jack gets his noggin filled with nonsense (sometimes I suspect the Asgard wiped more of the HD clean than they should have, cf S4-6). Cute episode, and hello to the arse shot to end all arse shots.
Sunday: I'd planned to spend the day typing up some Stargate fic, but the best laid plans of mice and me.
I was ambushed as I snuck out for a coffee so it was sanding, sawing, painting, scrubbing and all that home handyman shit. I can't believe those lorikeets were doing it right next to me while I was sawing away. Sheesh. As it darkened I returned to my pc, and, too peeved for fic, decided to work on the website that wasn't there instead.
It's very slow going as I've never used a laptop or XP in my life before. There were lots of (insert Homer Simpson scream here) moments. Discovered I'm also getting too old to sit cross legged for five hours straight with 4kg in my lap without some form of punishment when I try to stand up again. Ouch.
At least I had Homicide, Ocean's 11, Knights Tale and Spy Games playing away in the background so I didn't feel entirely deprived, though I had been looking forward to another afternoon of dvd pleasures. I did manage to sneak in a 30 minute Sam fix before I went to bed. Just about got the pages ready to go. It's hard work just getting them stylesheet ready.
Watched tv because I had nothing better to do - too tired and squinty to read. The Lost Prince - what a horrid family the Windsors are. I must admit to a small thrill of pleasure in watching he Romanovs get taken out. I hate rich people. They're always picking on me, day in and day out, for living on the wrong street, going to the wrong school, following the wrong football code. They deserve to be the first against the wall when the revolution comes and good riddance to such insufferable snobs. Bah! I think the destruction of several European royal houses was just about the only good thing that came out of WWI.
Ack, it was -2C this morning.
Spent this morning writing a short scene based on this circa 1979 pic of Sam my Bro found in his collection. It was a lovely moody shot and I just had to use it. If the scene sounds a lot like the 'is that Giles?!' scene, well, yes, but it was more inspired by this photo of a very intense young Sam. Yum.
If I still had a website I could post pic and fic, but I have neither a website nor, apparently, any real demand to read anything I've written, guess not, eh. Ah well.