Friday: Oh, I'm having fun. I'm having to learn six systems before breakfast, daily.
Never mind. Anyway, as I never bother to have Friday out any more it was Tom and Thai again, and Spooks threw up another absolute cracker of an episode. This is one of the best shows on tv, people. It really is.
Tonight was a homage to that old Gerry Anderson 'it was all a bad dream' standard, only with a twist: it was all a drill, as the poor folks from 'Five thought London and Edinburgh had been wiped out in a poison gas atack (the same lethal green stuff from The Rock, aparently - I love the knowing 'oh dear' when they admitted they'd given the technology to the Yanks in the 50s). So it was very much a bottle/submarine show as our not so merry band of survivors try to run what's left of the country from a disabled bunker and try not to fall apart. It was great stuff, with great acting.
One problem though - I don't think much of the MI5 screening of potential threats if they didn't pick up that Tom's now very ex-girlfriend should have been listed as a risk assessment rated B/B - for bunny boiler. Poor Tom, and he looked so completely shattered tonight, too. Awwwww.
Brideshead is out on dvd, as is Cambridge Spies, which would provide a nice night of clipped accents viewing. As I'd been indulging in Reilly and the Forsythe Saga as well, well, I started thinking wouldn't it be amusing if Reilly had crossed paths with the Forsythes, which amused, but then turned to thoughts of Reilly vs Soames, like an Edwardian version of one of those MTV celebrity death matches. Tee hee. I'm not entirely sure who I'd back to win, either.
So then we started twittering over the idea of Oxford vs Cambridge: ...and Guy Burgess appears to have Charles Ryder in a headlock. Wait! Lord Sebastian Flyte has just been tagged and has jumped into the ring...
Too silly. Later the coversation landed on the recent re-screening of the Canterbury Tales and Bro suddenly spouted ideas for the sequel: Canterbury Tales II: Pilgrims on Patrol.
I suddenly think all the red food colouring in Saturday's dinner was having an adverse effect, afterall. Still, giggling like monkeys isn't all bad. Bro had decided to make a beetroot rissotto. It was very nice, if a somewhat confronting colour (being a child of the 70s I regard bright red food as warily as others poke nervously at prussic blue Pepsi and arsenic green jelly/jello). The next day all the magpies to gathered round to stare me down had blood red beaks and faces from picking through the leftovers. How very Hitchcock of them.
Just as well I had the risotto and thai because they forgot to feed me on Sunday, invalided and bed ridden as I was, and Monday night's offering from AP was completely inedible. My mother cooks like a teenaged stoner bachelor dude, you know, if there's no soy sauce she'll use vegemite, cause it's brown, right? I know it's from a lifetime of depression era and wartime rationing and making do and substituting, but, eew. Yukky.
I refer you to the Gallery of Regrettable Food so you can see what she considers haute cuisine: www.lileks.com/institute/gallery/
Saturday was spent sneaking in some Reilly early in the morning (mmmm, Sam), working on the site. Paid for a new domain, it appears to be working: www.sharpetorium.info. Then it was just hard labour. I know I'm not Robinson Crusoe but after a hard week of hard work for neither money nor thanks, all I really want to do on a Saturday is...all those hard jobs that have been saved up for me all week. I suppose I only get a bit bent out of shape because I feel some folks aren't pulling their weight. At least doing 50s style housework, which I do (no mod cons), is supposed to be as good as a gym workout.
Saturday evening was spent watching some classic SWAT, as I was thoroughly underwhelmed by the SWAT trailer I took forever to download (apparently the film indeed sucks) and then classic Trek (David Soul, yet, in The Apple).
Stayed up for Tombstone. I enjoyed it much more than I expected to this time around, as I was watching it with new eyes, from reading a lot of Tombstone related fic, and picking up tings I'd previously missed. It's still one of my favourite westerns. Great cast, beautifully filmed. I still think it's a shame Biehn had to play Ringo as several sandwiches short of a picnic, especially given what I've read about the character/man since, but I was surprised I was still enjoying Michael in this film. I thought I was over him, but apparently not.
I've also really liked Jason Priestly in this too. Nobody ever comments over his textual fawning over Billy Zane in this, but it's always amused me.
After that it was lots and lots of Placebo on Rage and lots and lots of writing the further Perils of Billy Brennan. That was fun. Poor Billy. Ah well, you only hurt the ones you love - wicked grin. I think I've done everything but tie the poor lad to the railway tracks. Hmmmm...
Sunday. It's all Michael Biehn's fault. Woke up to find it was hot water battle time, back on schedule. watched some Reilly, then sat in the sun with a cup of tea and the papers. AP gave me the day off, which was fun, because I never got to be excused from PE at school, not hitting puberty until my second semester at uni (and that was embaressing, let me tell you, being a novice at stuff and being thought simple by women who had ten years on me).
The magpies bullied and sat around me trying to stare me down into feeding them. It worked, it always does. A cold damp change blew in so I crawled inside, dosed to the eyeballs and wallowed in cable offerings. Absolutely delighted in Almost Famous. It was a very, very sweet film indeed, and there was Noah Taylor, too. That era was a bit before my time, so it wasn't nostalgic, but I sensed it was the sort of heightened and sweetened reality of the times and it played out very much like the tales and pop culture I've seen and heard of the era. Whatever, I just adored it. It wasn't nasty, confronting or uncomfortable. It was just sweet, and I wanted sweet.
Monday. Woke up screaming at 4am. Not good. So it was much clutching of hot water bottles and clinging to the calming influence of Sam Waterson in Law & Order and Sam Neill in The Zookeeper. Law & Order is always comforting, I guess because it's always so predictable, but at 4am, I wasn't complaining, I was desperately grateful. I enjoyed The Zookeeper too. Very bleak, but Sam was brilliant, as usual. It was set during the Balkan wars so it had Message, but it was very focused on small human stories, so I liked it. So much so I watched it again on Showtime2.
Decided to definitely stay home, and it had nothing to do with Colin Farrell being on cable in American Outlaws, though I was gratified to discover that this was so. It's not a bad little western. Okay, yes, very much a Young Guns wannabe, but I have no real problem with that. After that I managed to tape another bit of Ewan from the Down With Love premiere.
There was dozing, there was some writing and there was Roswell watching. While I've never really written Roswell, the smallest things springboard ideas in other fics, so I enjoy it. Plus I really like The Great Snapple Caper episode (hello product placement), and how much Terry O'Quinn can I watch in three days? Quite a bit, apparently. Now there's a jobbing actor for you.
Now and Again was cute, though Bro whines that the threat that underpins the series is hardly taken seriously. Oh well. It was still cute and points for implied slashiness, as both boys answer the door to their NY townhouse. If I were Mrs Wiseman, I'd have taken that at face value and given up, but I guess not.
Oh, last episode of Buffy last night. I missed the middle bit cause I was being hugely sick (timing, and I really appreciated my family choosing to keep watching Buffy rather than attend to my medical emergency, but what else is new) but it seemed very confused and lacklustre (or maybe that was just me). Did we really need to turn Sunnydale into a crater? Spike's sacrifice is moot because he's back in Angel, and, well...the last bit just seemed rushed and a poor Two Towers rip off. I liked the beginning bits though, with Angel and Spike carrying on like, well, one can only hope this childish rivalry transfers across to Angel (but not too much).
Funnily enough just as I was about to describe Buffy, it being my tea break n all, they had a Buffy panel on triplej. No post mortem because half the country hasn't seen the last episode yet, but a retrospective, an overview, a discussion of Buffy as pop culture phenom. I don't know about you but I always find it a bit silly when people write academic papers on tv shows, probably because I was taught it was very wrong and just plain tacky to critcally evaluate Buffy as if it were Pride and Prejudice (although the perils and pitfalls of dating haven't changed a jot over 200 years, apparently), but do remember these joyless teachers of mine also removed all the sex violence and fart jokes out of Shakespeare and anything else I cared to study under their supervision.
So anyway, they talked music in Buffy (promoting indy music, songs as text), fave characters in Buffy (how hardly anyone here at least likes Buffy), how main characters usually die in non Hellmouthy ways (at least the ones who stay dead do), Buffy as ethics study, Buffy as primer on growing up, that sort of thing. They also talked about Joss being pro fan fic. I'd always been told the exact opposite, but there you go. apparently he'd like to see the series live on in fan fic, so they said, and I could certainly see the series/plot/characters being left hanging/dangling to facilitate that.
In fact cult shows have two endings these days: the ones that kill fan fic chances dead (X Files, Forever Knight, SAAB, Xena, etc and I note that these fandoms have really died off quite a bit) and those that facilitate further fic adventures (Mag7, Sentinel, Due South). So I think it was canny of Joss, because, afterall, fan fic kept the Trek franchise alive.
So I'm amused, as on the bus this morning I was musing that Faith ended up with Woodie (who keeps her interested by refusing to buy into the Faith mythos) and of course, Xander and Andrew. Really. They practically screamed spinoff. they screamed something - grin. So nice of Joss to set up this dynamic before departing. So glad he left Giles breathing, too, ditto Willow. Could care less about Buffy and Dawn, but I never could. But apparently Sunnydale TM is not part of the playset. Oh well. I'm sure it could rise again, Atlantis style, sometime :)
Okay, off to work and try and negotiate Higher Duties for the extra work I'm taking on. It doesn't look good. Looks like they'll load me up to the limit but just one paperclip too short to actually warrant higher pay under law - bastards. They boys got to act in the position. Typical discrimination. Oh well.
At least, after forking out for a new domain name, the site is working. At least, it was on Saturday :) I feel brighter and lighter over that at least, and somebody has offered to take some more of the Brit boys off my hands. Good. Better it's out there somewhere than gone forever. I guess Joss feels the same.
Such is my life. I drag myself in to work, uber crampy and squishy and with my brain mittens on, and co-worker doesn't show up and a virus knocks out the system for a half a day - but we're not allowed to go home. So now I have to catch up. Grrrr. So much for Plan A - to go over the wall early and crawl into bed and watch Roswell and Buffy in a blissfully drugged out haze, with chocolate. Sigh. I have simple wants and needs dammit, you'd think I'd get my way just once. Pout. Hissy Fit. Grump. Whine. Complain. Flounce. :(