Twisted Spinster

I really can’t top this:

He then wiped his sweat from his gleaming mocha brow and a droplet of the precious liquid alighted on my cheek. For the first time in my life, I experienced orgasm. And something akin to a connection with God. A dirty, sweaty sexy connection.

(Via.) Guess who that paragraph refers to. Just guess. As for me, I’m running back to the refuge that is sweet, sweet tv…

Update: and that’s why I shouldn’t post when I’ve got a massive sinus headache — alert reader Nigel gently chides me for posting the part of the article that was actually a parody of said article (and was clearly stated so underneath the rest of the quote). Quite frankly, I blame Global Warming. Anyway, I encourage you all to read the whole thing — the actual real text is much, much funnier than anything even Ace could come up with.

Damn, but the aroma of fermented and cured dairy product is strong in the first part of the two-part season finale of Doctor Who. Now, I don’t say that’s necessarily a bad thing… in fact, tonight’s episode was among other things a pleasantly nostalgic call-back to the “classic” (that is, Sixties and Seventies non-existent budget) version of the show. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Except… can I just say once and for all I am sick of Daleks? I no longer find them scary at all (well, I never did, but now even the tension from the dramatic possibilities inherent in the show is gone), which sort of makes it difficult for me to sympathize with the fear of the characters upon hearing that familiar “Exterminate! Exterminate!” All I can say if that means they get the likes of Rosie O’Donnell and whoever that idiot is who came up with those disturbing Burger King commercials — now they have one with a Burger King “kid” in a mask, who comes off more as one of those malevolent dwarfs that were always appearing in German avant-garde movies — then I say “Go, Daleks!” There is one exception, however… I just loves me some Dalek Caan. Isn’t he (er. he? it?) just the loveliest crazy boneless octopussy-alien in a tank that you ever did see? I just wanted to pick him up and cuddle him when he started singing about “the three-fold man” and “endless death.” Cute!

More observations: the actor who plays Ianto has really been hitting the pasties lately. Get that boy jogging or something. And here’s something I’ve been wondering — has David Tennant been hitting the cigarettes lately, or what? (Or was he over the course of filming these episodes, which was a few months ago I think.) His voice has been increasingly deeper and hoarser in each episode. I’ve heard complaints about Billie Piper’s (the actress who plays Rose) voice in these later episode but it just sounds like she let the assumed chav-speak get a bit more posh, to reflect either her real accent or her increased status in position in the parallel world her character ended up in two years ago. It’s Tennant’s voice that I noticed more, and no, not for the obvious reasons… he should get his vocal chords checked, that’s all. I mean, he’s going to be on stage this year, so he doesn’t want to have to take time off to have any nodes scraped off them like Elton John had to do, does he? Hey, I might not be a mother, but I have cats, so I do worry.

Look! The Torchwood crew can communicate without using the words “fuck” or “shit.” It can be done!

The last thought so far: I can’t believe Russell T Davies wrote this meshugas, but also penned the tight little psychological thriller that was the episode “Midnight.” Well, even Homer nodded, or so I have heard.

PS: thanks to everyone who has donated to the Summer Fundraiser so far! It’s thanks to you that I might be able to keep the electricity on. Can’t watch stupid British scifi kids teevee stay on the internet without electricity.

Update: oh yeah, one more thing… the Scifi Channel has apparently given up on even pretending to guard against spoilers, and has bowed to the supremacy of the internet, because unlike people in the UK we here in the States got previews from next week. So even those of us who have not been hitting the Wikipedia and BBC Doctor Who pages like monkeys on crack now know that (spoilers below, because I am not so unkind)

Read the rest of this entry »

Okay, I didn’t get washed away in yesterday’s storm, though at times I feared I would. It started raining just as I left the office (as usual), and then it started pouring, and then the wind started up. I actually had to pull over into a parking lot somewhere and sit for a while because I couldn’t see a frickin’ thing. And as always happens to me in situations like this I really had to pee. Oh and by the way, Brighthouse Cable people, you suck. I had to go by your office to pay my overdue bill, and there was a goddamn tornado outside, and to my request for a bathroom you smiled sweetly and said “we don’t have one for customers.” I wanted to pull down my pants right there and piss on their carpet. It’s not like I was going to rob you of all your little brochures on HDTV, you smug *%&$%#…

Well, now that I’ve left you with that visual (don’t say I never gave you nuthin’), it’s time for me to start blegging. For some reason the middle of summer is when all my bills pile up at once and my funds dry up. I’m still on the temp salary which is barely (and for the next few weeks, less than barely) helping me make ends meet. So any contribution you can make will be welcome.

Man. I never thought a day job would knock me out like this. But it’s getting better — today they moved my computer to a desk that has a lot more room (actually the way the room is set up it has these built-in counters all along the walls — for some reason the woman that preceded me in my position had squashed herself in a corner in between the entrance and a pillar, and now I’ve got a whole kingdom of wall and counter all to myself) so it makes me feel even more like they are going to keep me. On the other hand, this temp salary is the pits — I drive 36 miles every day (18 miles one way) and I can only be glad I don’t drive the gas guzzlers I used to in the past. Still, I find I’m spending about $35.00 every week and a half, which really cuts into my food and wine budget.

Hey, wine is good for you. The doctors say so! Jesus drank wine. SNAP as far as I am concerned.

Anyway. I have a few things to post about — nothing momentous, like about the campaign for prez (like that’s momentous anymore — the minute people actually began basing their decision on who should lead the country by how much melanin was in their skin was the day the US of A jumped the shark as far as I am concerned) — just chatter about stuff I’ve been watching on tv via Netflix, reading, etc. Light stuff.

Oh okay, here’s a teaser: in my burgeoning If You Didn’t Know Hollywood Was Out of Touch and Provincial This Would Be A Clue file, goes this article on Steven Moffat, who turned down a chance to write for Steven Spielberg (which would, in the H-wood parlance, be referred to as “being part of Spielberg’s stable of writers” — come on, you know it would) to become the new executive producer of Doctor Who, replacing Russell “Everyone Will Be Bisexual In the Future, Yes They Will!” Davies in 2010. More about which subject anon, but this is the quote from the article that caught my eye:

One Hollywood insider said: “No one walks away from Spielberg and all that money for a show no one has heard of. I mean, what is this doctor show about? It sounds a little silly.”

Yep. This show is as old as I am, people, and is about as famous a British entertainment export as the Beatles, with which it is more or less contemporary. But this “Hollywood insider” has never heard of it. I’ll bet he (or she, or heshe) knows just how many corns Madonna has these days, though.

You know, I could post something, instead of just filling up my comment boxes.

Naaahhh!

I have a migraine really have to do some housework so here are some links to some pictures of David Tennant licking things:

One lick

Two licks

So how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?

Added: this commentary thread on the new (and apparently mercifully limited-episode) British telly series Bonekickers (which a commenter renamed “Boneknickers” and now I won’t be able to think of it as anything else) may amuse you. For those who have forgotten, there was a minor dust-up on the right side of the blogs about this series, because the first episode apparently contained the usual Christians Are Eeeville! Muslims Are Victimz nonsense. (See here for a review that mentions the specific outrage-causing scene.)

Heck, they could slice a few inches off each others’ rumps and not even have to go down a dress size (from the look of things that would take a few feet). You know what, news reporters? When you find real starving people in America — and I mean Depression Dustbowl starving, not “I’m hungry ‘cos I can’t afford to go to Dunkin’ Donuts every day anymore” — then try to make me cry with stories of people having to “scrimp” on food. I’ll tell you what: I’m a size 18 but that’s normal size not “W” (aka “fat woman”) size, and I stay that way by not eating at McDonald’s every goddamn day. But I see people that huge everywhere, and I don’t know how they stand it. I can remember when people weren’t that gigantic except for an odd glandular freak here and there. (And they usually had nicknames like “Tiny.”) In fact, when my mother and I went to Europe in 1981, we were constantly being told that “American women are too skinny.” I gained about ten pounds over three weeks of European multi-course meals. Those were the days.

Okay, this theme is a little easier to read than oddly space white text on a gray background.

This isn’t important to anyone but me… but I knew I had seen a certain episode of Doctor Who ages ago (that is, before the current hottie, before Eccleston, before affordable — at least for me — videotape machines), and had a certain scene stuck in my head, and I couldn’t remember which episode it was. The scene wasn’t an interesting one either, just a random bit of filler between crises, don’t ask me why it stuck in my brain. Anyway, now I know which one it was — frickin’ “Snakedance,” where Tegan of all people got possessed by the titular evil spirit. Of course it hasn’t been released on dvd yet. (Maybe I’m not the only one who finds the pleasures of Peter Davison’s Dr. No. 5 seriously offset by the irritation that is Tegan.)

This is important, people. What?

While this brief burst of creativity lasts…

I spent this past Saturday at a friend’s house, and she wanted me to see Man of the Year, a movie starring Christopher Walken Robin Williams. I’m a big slave to Mr. Walken fan of Mr. Williams so of course I assented. Here is my review in brief:

There were some amusing lines, but Williams seems mostly squashed, a bit intimidated, by the very idea of the presidency. This attitude is at least preferable to the current notion that certain people (cough certain  aggrieved “minorities” cough) are somehow entitled to the Oval Office and red phone access, and is a bit of a reminder that as a nation we still somehow take our governing bodies seriously. The day may yet come when when the country is run by an analogy to Pirates of the Caribbean if the crew of the Black Pearl had been real psychopaths instead of actors hired by Disney and if they were all at the opposite end of the spectrum in handsomeness from Johnny Depp, but we have not become a superpowered version of Zimbabwe yet. Someone please tell CNN and the BBC.

Anyway, for most of the movie, except for an underpowered paranoid subplot involving a cute blond programmer and buggy voting software, was just like how I and my friends would have reacted if one of our crew had by some fluke gotten elected PUSA. In other words, we would have tooled around town in our limos, chaffered with our new, ironically bemused secret service detail, visited with the current prez and found he was not such a bad (or as this movie had it, stiff, boring, and unimaginative) guy after all, tried to help beleaguered friends in trouble (the cute blond programmer), and so on. Oh, and Christopher Walken walked away with the show in his pocket, as usual. Christopher Walken is a kind of god.

One last thing: this film featured Jeff Goldblum as a baddie. What intrigued me about his performance is the fact that he played this bad character (an evil lawyer working for an evil software company, natch) with the exact same mannerisms he uses when he is playing a good guy in other films. This is true of every film I have seen him in. And he somehow manages to be convincing both as a baddie and a goodie using the same facial, vocal, and bodily mannerisms. I can’t recall another actor being able to bring this off. It’s a unique talent, whatever else you might think of it.