Twisted Spinster

Well, at least they want to see David Tennant, who is currently playing the part, with not so many clothes. I have proof. A while back I decided to try out Blockbuster Video’s Netflix-like online rental thing. Unlike Netflix, they had the Masterpiece Theater production of Casanova that starred David Tennant in and out of all sorts of costumes. Naturally I put that in my queue right away, but the wait time was something like six years (or whatever “Very Long Wait” really means — probably “the last middle-aged cat lady with the not-so-secret crush on D.T. who ordered it has ‘lost’ the only copy we had”), and it never did become available, and as Blockbuster didn’t have any other movies that I wanted to see that weren’t available via Netflix I quit my Blockbuster membership and used the savings to order a copy from Amazon. This was just before I lost my job, but it was only twenty bucks. As I am extra cheap I chose the least expensive shipping option so I won’t get it until next week so my review of Mr. Tennant in (and not in) pretty 18th century clothes macking with all sorts of people will have to wait.

Then I saw that Netflix was getting some BBC Mystery thing he’d been in which according to the reviews on the internets was pretty steamy. (Well here are quotes, what do you think? Put that fantasy about Rose Tyler out of your head right now, people! That’s just so wrong.) Of course I put it in my queue. It wasn’t going to be released until yesterday. I forgot to check Netflix yesterday. I checked it today, and what do I see in the availability column? “Very long wait.”

People know what they want.

Next day update: heh, guess what I got in the mail. Occasionally Amazon surprises me by sending stuff sooner than they say they would. I may not be online much tonight…

Here it is:

latte-chuggin’ tree-huggin’ electric-car-pluggin’ Jesus-muggin’ speech-code-thuggin’ effete perverted condescending Eastern liberal establishment faux intellectual Pansy Class

If I had any embroidery talent I’d make a sampler of that to hang on my wall.

Lynn has more thoughts on my criticism of Doctor Who, and I comment.

Tim updates us on his new site’s new moderators. It does look like the new site is picking up steam. Now if only they would do something about the load time — I have a fast cable internet connection, and it takes a while. People on dialup must be in agony.

I’ve been trying to eat only food I prepare myself, or at least have to take out of a sealed freezer box and heat in the stove. Just about every time I eat out these days I find myself ending up with something wrong with my gut. In fact, for almost the last two weeks I’ve been fighting off some sort of “stomach flu” which probably came from some inadequately-handwashing fast food employee. At least I don’t live in Canada, where I would be expected to share the diseases of my fellow human beings because it’s apparently, to the disturbed Canadian bureaucrat mind, racist to expect minorities to adhere to Western standards of cleanliness.

Rachel says FOAD. Ah, I remember when I used to rant like that (nostalgic sigh…)

Just a brief entry to thank everyone who has donated to my Unemployed Again bleg. The money really is helping!

One more note: we’re finally getting some rain here in Central Florida. Yesterday there was a cloudburst, which seemed to vanish before it hit the ground — today a bit more.

Well, maybe not the whole day, but I have just got to get out of here for a while. No one else is awake (or at least blogging) at this hour anyway, so I have nothing to read, you slackers!

PS: I went for a walk around the apartment complex yesterday. It’s pretty big and spread out — the previous one I lived in was all cramped together. This one has two swimming pools, two laundry complexes, and a nice pond. It’s all more or less well-kept, and though there are a lot of the usual oaks there is more open space so grass can grow. Not bad. Eventually I will take some pictures.

Update: okay, that was boring and pointless. I guess I’m not in the mood for going anywhere after all. The weather isn’t helping — it’s hot and there’s a gusty, humid wind like someone blowing their bad breath on you, and a hint of thunderstorm without the actual thunderstorm. On the other hand, I finally just heard some thunder. I really hope it rains — the grass is dead everywhere.

Late Nite Update: okay, it finally rained a little. But really, we need more than that. We need several days of straight rain.

With bonus voiceover in Italian. Come on, ya gotta.

Oh shit, I just made a comment on Tim’s new site and spelled Guantanamo as “Guanatamo.” I think. Oops.

And I haven’t even touched the mead.

(The Newly Jobless Bleg is in effect! Thank you to all who have donated!)

Update: I am not drunk enough, I can still feel my face. Upcoming review — maybe, if I don’t pass out — of this night’s Scifi Channel showing of Doctor Who coming up, if I don’t pass out first. Let’s just say… that England’s dreaming, again.)

Well, I finally finished watching the Doctor Who dvd I had on last night — Revelation of the Daleks was the title of this series of installments, by the way, with Colin Baker as the Sixth Doctor and some since-vanished actress as his perpetually terrified companion — and I must say that the Tinned Ones (the Daleks) stole my heart with the way they eliminated a “deejay” played by the unfunny 80s comedian Alexei Sayle. Lord knows the acting on The Young Ones was never RSC level, but Sayle’s recurring appearances on said show were always a signal for one of us to press the fast-forward button on the VCR remote. I used to long for some sort of flesh-blasting raygun to render him a silent heap of meat; the writers of this episode must have felt the same way I did. Go, Daleks!

So, impelled by a strange force from outside the solar system, or something, I’ve been exploiting my Netflix account in order to watch just about every single episode of Doctor Who that has been released on dvd (at least, those titles which Netflix has acquired). In the mail today came some offerings from the “Sixth Doctor” era — some dude named Colin Baker is the Doctor, some chick with a there-and-gone-again accent is the girlfriend (oh, okay, “companion” — geez), and it’s The Eighties, which I gather from the plots, the surprising lack of acting excellence for something British, and the general tinfoil/kandy-kolouredness of the sets was a particularly bad time for Britain, whatever said decade may have been for the US. Still, Baker wasn’t that bad of a Doctor — don’t know why they fired him for that weird fat guy, wosname. (More about Seventh Dr. some time in the future, if I can bring myself to write about it.) He probably wanted a real salary, oops. Anyway, I’m watching this, and then there appears on the screen my ex-boyfriend. The hell??? I swear, the actor playing this character (a real doctor on the episode’s planet, apparently) looked exactly like my ex, right down to the hair. Don was famous for defying fashion norms and doing things like showing up at parties in the late 90s dressed in a polyester suit just like Carl Kolchak’s. It’s too bad I never talk to the jerk or else I’d show up at his house with the dvd and force him to watch it. He liked crappy tv too. His loss!

I was planning this year, if I ever managed to save enough money (i.e., juggle my bills cleverly enough), to renew my passport, book a ticket to the UK, and catch a performance of Hamlet, my favoritist play ever, currently starring my current favoritist actor (hey I like skinny white guys, and I don’t care that he drives a Prius). But I’ll bet you the fucker is sold out by now, and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to do anything but possibly renew my passport. Alas. The fact that a lot of the people renting out the planes at my place of work are from Across the Pond (taking advantage of the current strong Euro and relatively cheap US fuel prices, they all tell me) doesn’t help one bit. I really need to see my ancestral home before it goes completely Muslim/Chav. Sniff.

Update: did I completely fuck up the title to this post? Yup, I did. Oh well — FIXED. Damn white zinfandel.