mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

too many ponds

A surfeit of Ponds. A plague of Ponds. Still, it was rather funny. Walked in the door to find Matt Smith Doctor Who on the telly. Sadly, I'd missed the whole fish custard scene (which I still can't get over it being almost completely cut in the BBC America version, especially as it's an important scene, as in constantly referred back to, so nice one, BBC editors) but I did get my bum on the couch in time for the great 'I'm the Doctor' line.

So that was Pond #1.

Pond #2 was on Supernatural, of all places, with Jewel Staite from Firefly no less, using the alias Amy Pond. Coincidence? Homage? Severe drought in available character names?

Anyhoo, it wasn't much of an episode, though oddly harking back to exactly the sort of thing the lads would have been up to in series one, that is, Sam, the sweet lamb, falls for a pretty monster (he does have that weakness, let's face it), and lets her get away, twice. Dean, the oldest, goes and does what he has to do. I see Dean's point, and he has valid points, she's a monster, he's a monster killer, there was a body count, but the way it was written and filmed, by the Ackles, no less, didn't put Dean in a particularly positive light (okay, Jensen, are we so bored now that we're personally responsible for the most unflattering Dean episode I've seen in a while?).

Still, the Sam fans should be happy. Sweet little Sam, cruel, nasty Dean. Personally, I have no time for 'em and I bet they're all younger siblings. When you're the eldest, ya gotta do what ya gotta do, and clean up their messes, cover for their failures, take all the blame and punishment, while they just run riot like untamed monkeys on speed. Or perhaps I'm over identifying with Dean again, just a touch (and Burke, too, re his loose cannon charge). Sam sure deserved that punch. Making off with Dean's baby. Seriously, Sam needs to learn about limits, especially as it's the only thing Dean really owns, the only link with his past, his father, and really, does Sam want to mess with that?

But yeah, Supernatural never really struggles much with the whole can monsters ever be good thing (unless you count Sam's arc, and even then Dean has been damn close in finishing the job). I get it. They kill monsters. I just shudder to think what Dean would do if he ended up on the doorstep of the Being Human house. Not one to ponder the great existentials, old Supernatural. But it's not that kind of show, and it's rather interesting (too little too late) to see it retuning to it's monster hunting Night Stalker meets the Hardy Boys roots.

I was going to say Supernatural was a bit 70s tv in its whole see everything in black and white deal, but hell, even old Karl had some sympathy for the devil, from time to time. Not so Dean. But it's Dean. It's what he'd does. But if they're going to make him that hardcore and all Dirty Harry, well, I guess American tv has its limits (on less squeamish UK tv he would have shanked the kid as well, no question).

Yes, I'm talking about telly again. Ain't been or done anything, unless you count Granny Smith day, the local apple festival that venerates the fertile old crone, and I kinda like its cheesy macabre weirdness, and let me tell you, there were a few moments that bypassed Midsomer and went straight to Royston Vasey, especially the hearse with the open doors that crept past in the parade, past all the senior citizens, like it was hungry for their souls. I love the parade. It's such a creepy ITC style Dennis Spooner kinda parade. The sort of parade that would given the Doctor the wiggins.

So there was that, the street stalls, where I left the marmalade (it's a sensitive subject) and just bought a few baked goods and plants. And, just for once, I got most of them in the ground, all bar the cumquat, whose ultimate location I am fussing about, and the odd little plant the twinkly eyed old gran at the CWA stand insisted I buy.

There was a rose, to replace the rapidly dwindling rose garden (I suck) and a lavender and rosemary, also replacements. I'm trying them in the most sheltered corners I can find this time. Oh, and a couple herbs to wither and die all of a sudden by the back door, the way they always do.

It was fun, but I was tired.

So, anyway, sorry if I confused folks by posting old pics last week. What happened was this: I was asked to explain to new management why we had no social media. Pinching myself really very hard to stop myself swearing badly I mentioned something along the lines of IT preferring security over commonsense and connectivity and for several years, despite my desperate pleading and banging of the head against their firewall until I was bloody, have refused point blank to allow any kind of social media (not twitter, flickr, youtube, facebook, anything). Pish posh, says IT. They say it's all accessible. WTF says I, wot gots DENIED only that morning. Well, FB is still of the banned, but I can do flickr, twitter and youtube and I was just posting away to test this, that's all. I've also hooked up twitter to feed to livejournal and facebook, which are still banned, just so you don't think I've dropped off my perch if I don't post anything, like last week where I wasn't home in time for an hour on the interwebs a single night. I tweet, therefore I am, that sort of thing. That's all.

Now I must away to a rubbish meeting with more lies, lies and damned lies. I am in a flithy mood because by the time I'd done this that and the other and oh yes, that as well, by the time I'd done all that and finally got a chance to sit down with my PC, turn it on and open up notebook (what I use for the first drafts), I was so tired and unwell, like words swimming before my eyes tired, I just could not do it. Worse, I shut down and found Dame Benedict Cumberbatch on Heartbeat of all things (I was flicking channels, I swear), and then I promptly fell asleep. So when it comes to 'me' time, I feel doubly screwed. So imagine how much I'm enjoying staying back for that meeting today. With people I loathe, based on empirical evidence of their past twattery, mind. Rrrrargh! Hulk smash!

Oh, bite me, Telegraph: The Queen arrives in Australia on Wednesday for her 16th visit to the former penal colony in what will perhaps be her last tour Down Under.

Nobody trash talks America that way. You know, I've read, and I think it's a fair point, that a lot of the recurring (oh dear god, recurring) daddy issues tropes you get in American writing is from the whole walking away from George thing (issues, issues). Well, get over it, America, because it's pretty obvious that Mum always liked you best (weep!). Australia will be up in its room listening to emo music and cutting itself, again. It is so not fair, we're the good one. Okay, not as good as Canada and New Zealand, maybe (swots!), but definitely less badly behaved than the rest. Whimper.

Patronising press coverage #2. The sovreign of Australia, the Governor General of Australia and the Prime Minister of Australia meet at the national capital, Canberra. And how is this covered in the national press? "As royal visits go, it was ladies' day."


Okay, none of the wimmin in question actually elected to their posts, as the men in this office never stop reminding us, but still. Clearly, given pervading attitudes, the only way Hilary was ever going to get a guernsey was to sit tight and hope for the worst, or wish that American politics were as Roman senate-ty as Oz politics are.

Mind you, I'm not as automatically sold on the idea of women PMs as I was when I was a very young gel. There was a whole speech in One Man, Two Guvnors about a woman prime minister being kind and charitable to the workers and the poor, and never ever getting involved in foreign wars - to large guffaws from those in the audience old enough to remember the Thatcher years (bitchin' tunes, though. Half my playlist is made up of anti-Thatcher songs).

Speaking of miserable harridans, I was dancing on the grave of Elaine Nile, who died this week. I remember her for being extrordinarily unchristian in all things, especially during the AIDS crisis, which I was bitterly aware of, being just seventeen and the only person in an office of not nice people who would handle the paperwork re AIDS cases. It still makes me so angry, so enough of that, because I'm angry enough this week already.

Oh, it's just a rubbish week. People screaming at me, throwing things at me, so not in the mood. Haven't touch the fic, either, which is probably a good thing for the rest of the world, but it makes me sad.

Meant to do stuff yesterday but I was tired and just curled up in front of Sherlock instead. Bad I know (what about the fic, you aske, can you not multi-task?) but I was stupid washing up fail tired so I wasn't fit for much else, and besides, it was cute to see Dame Benedict pull off the same annoyed eye roll as his mum in Doctor Who the other week.

I have new boots. I keep having to buy new boots. Partly because they make them so cheaply and shoddily these days, and partly because I now walk with a decided limp (and don't get me started on that) and one boot will completely fall apart on me, like on Monday, while the other is almost out of the box new. Very annoying.

Still, I like these, better than the last pair I think. They've yet to draw blood, too, though I've only walked them round the park, but it's a promising start (the pair before the pair I owned before now left me with a nasty scar, but I kinda like it, my red welt of cheap shoes and no transport).

Speaking of which, I know I moan about my commute far too much, but how bad is it when I never noticed the snap strike yesterday because my 'services' are so over-crowded and thin on the ground that the difference between 'strike' and 'normal service' is invisible to the naked eye? I honestly had no idea about the strike until I got home and checked my inbox (and no, I don't get the Samsung out on the bus - by the time I get a seat we're into the zones where people get on the bus sans shoes and shirts, clutching booze, yes, that kind of neighbourhood).

Oh, and the meeting? They exceeded even my expectations of twattery. On Tuesday, I attended a meeting where no one showed up (they moved it and never told me) and my last meeting was all bark and some bite (consider me sitting gingerly upon a pillow at present).

I did discover my gorgeous girl is a peregrine falcon. There was a whole thing in the paper about no one ever getting a photo of her before. Well, damn, if I'd known that...cause she's quite tame around me. Probably because I encourage pigeons - ooops.

Not that I'm fond of pigeons, they just come in a hoover up after my parrots have been through. Oh, the Captain, my captain, is still tetchy about my attempting to take a photo of him on Monday so you'll just have to take my word for it that I have to feed a large one eyed ex-pet white cockatoo who calls loudly from the back door every evening. His mate rattles the door handle if I'm tardy. Ah, such is my life. Still, I'd miss 'em if they stopped showing up, like my wee one legged bird. Whimper.

So, White Collar last night. Peter, still being, rightly, suspicious, and Neal being Neal, the pretty little two faded bastard. I really don't like this, it makes their interactions so brittle and false, and an unhappy viewing experience for me. And yet...Elizabeth knows there's nothing Peter wants more than to go play with Neal. Ditto Neal, who is pleased Peter is being more friendly and dialing down the aggression. If only those crazy kids could just drop all the lies and be real friends.

So let's lay the blame where it's always been, right from the start, and why I've never liked the character. Mozzie. The moment he shows up in S1 he starts prodding Neal to thoughts of escape, reminding him over and over not to trust Peter (despite this, Neal runs to Peter again and again, it's so sweet). It's Mozzie who keeps reminding Neal that he should run, that he can't trust his new friends, that he is in a prison, not a home, keeping Neal on mission, whispering in Neal's ear every time he shows signs of really becoming close to Peter.

It's like Mozzie is the jealous uncool old friend, like in Fright Night, only even more sinister. It's Mozzie who forces Neal's hand in stealing the treasure. It's Mozzie who keeps pushing the exit strategy, even when Neal keeps dragging his feet, it's Mozzie who keeps whispering in Neal's ear that he can't trust Peter, like the perfect Iago, when Peter is probably the only person Neal can and should trust. If only Neal could trust his instincts more, if only he could ever stand up to Moz (he's such a sub it doesn't bear thinking about).

So yes, yah boo sucks, and at least this season we actually get to see Moz show his teeth on occassion. Oh, Neal, you foolish boy.

Show aside, I did get to the park, and despite being over run, as in actually trampled, by just about everyone, I managed to dash off a few pages. I'm kind of have fun taking the piss out of the show, the sort of fun I've not had for a very long time, mainly because it reminds me so much (really, really) of the shows I used to gently mock in my first attempts at fic. Mind you, I was just in high school, what's their excuse? Anyhoo, there's a scene where Neal is turning himself upside down trying to figure out the code included at the bottom of a note from Peter, passed on by an intermediary. It takes a while for Neal to slow down and realise the series of crosses and zeros at the end of the note are nothing more sinister than hugs and kisses.

I may have been watching too much Sherlock this week - snerk. It's like the White Collar antidote. Oh man, I love Sherlock so much. Every bit is a good bit.

Friday: Okay, yes, still tittering over the NSFW US only video but hey, there's a transcript Matty interview he did on MTV. He is such a dag, that boy. And at least he's actually doing some press, 'cause I miss his rare, yet priceless, sound bites.

But mostly I want to tell you about the Night Noodle Markets we went to last night after a particularly rough day at work (endless lacerating emails from the sharp tongued harridan). What fun. Not as pretty as last time (in my memory, there were more lanterns) but we were early, we bagged a table (hello teutonic ancestry) and, as there was the Peanut Gallery in tow this time, this meant opportunities for tag team foraging. Oh, we made complete and utter pigs of ourselves, both having made that critical error of fasting beforehand and so we were starving and all around us was food, glorious food.

What did we have? Well, bear in mind these were shared, but they were good sized portions, I have to give them that. Okay, we had Chinese steamed buns filled with duck, prawn skewers, Vietnamese chicken pancake rolls (halfway between a summer roll and a crepe) and yellow curry with lamb and jasmine rice. Himself also scooped up some pancakes with red bean sauce. I wallowed in two glasses of Brown brothers sparkling rose.

We would have sat and chatted like everyone else but I was perhaps too sensitive to the green-eyed glares of extreme table envy from late-comers and Himself was getting restive to get home for telly (I'm so used to missing my shows now I don't even bother to set the pvr any more).

But while I was there it was nice, dining exotically under the trees in the park, with the Chinese lanterns. Very Impressionist painting. No, really, it was, and I loved it.

Also, we didn't have to wash up. Result.

Night Noodle Markets

British photographer snaps the world's most spectacular landscapes

Happy birthday Sir Christopher Wren

Viking chieftain's burial ship excavated in Scotland after 1,000 years

Tintin v Asterix

Prisoner Inflation

Cyclops shark terrorizes the web

Mastodons were hunted in North America 800 years earlier than thought

Cycads not so ancient after all

Shoot-to-kill hunt as beasts run wild [lions, tigers and bears, oh my]

Man Imprisoned For Attempting To Turn Poo Into Gold

Did Van Gogh die in an unfortunate brush with fate?

Cary Grant's LSD 'gateway to God'

Flowchart: Which Movie Plague Are You Infected With?

The Guide to Impostors

Why Hollywood is a lousy geography teacher

A Brief History Of Open Legs Movie Posters

Biscuit Tins

A life in writing: Terry Pratchett

Actress sues Amazon for $1m over revealing her age on IMDb

Stefanie Powers still gets around like 'The Girl From U.N.C.L.E.'

DVD Extra: Cold War spies cry 'U.N.C.L.E.'

A&E Renews 'The Glades' for a Third Season

Alexander Skarsgard likes nudity, lots of sex

When Did People Start Saying 'Showrunner'?

Jared Padalecki and Genevieve Cortese expecting: 'Supernatural' couple confirm pregnancy,0,6847493.story

Channing Tatum, Steve Carell costar and …Oscar contender?

Joe Manganiello's grandma isn't allowed to see 'Magic Mike'


Seeking Major Tom: Yet Another Reason To Love William Shatner

Star Trek's Mr Spock comes out

Zachary Quinto rides a wave of professional, personal growth,0,3878174.story

The lusts of Leonardo da Vinci


Zac in TV Guide!

Drugs may let us live to 150

New International Trailer for In Time Starring Justin Timberlake and Cillian Murphy


"White Collar" Press Conference

Interview with Matt Bomer, who plays Henry in In Time.

Matt Bomer Raves Over Working With Justin Timberlake For 'In Time'

Matt Bomer: 'Magic Mike' Was A 'Criminally Fun Time'

Justin Timberlake talks In Time - E online Interview

Matt Bomer: In Time Generic Interview for Trailer Addict

Matt Bomer's Tale Of Learning How To Put On A Thong For 'Magic Mike'

Matt Bomer Learns How To Put On A Thong

Totally necessary 'Magic Mike' update: Matt Bomer talks first thong, Joe Manganiello talks routines

Matt Bomer Talks Thongs For 'Magic Mike' Stripper Gig (VIDEO)

Matt Bomer Talks Thong Troubles on ‘Magic Mike’ Set (VIDEO)

Magic Mike’s Thongs Confused Matthew Bomer

Matt Bomer's 'Magic Mike' thong fail

Matt Bomer Not Sure How to Get His Junk into His Thong Properly: VIDEO (all vids US only)

'Magic Mike' star Matt Bomer: 'Putting on a thong is hard'

Matt Bomer: I'd Never Worn a Thong Before Magic Mike

"In Time" Los Angeles Premiere - Arrivals

"In Time" Los Angeles Premiere - Red Carpet

"In Time" Los Angeles Premiere - After Party

Premiere Of Regency Enterprises' "In Time" - Arrivals

Premiere Of Regency Enterprises' "In Time" - Red Carpet

Premiere Of Regency Enterprises' "In Time" - After Party

Justin Timberlake and Amanda Seyfried Sizzle at ‘In Time’ Premiere [PHOTOS]

Matt Bomer greets the fans at In Time premiere.

Matt Bomer at the premiere of "In Time"


Justin Timberlake, Olivia Wilde & Matt Bomer Leave Tongues Wagging At The ‘In Time’ Premiere [PHOTOS]

Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel ‘kiss at premiere party’

Shoutout to #WhiteCollar fans from Tim DeKay

Had a blast working with Tim DeKay from White Collar !!! Muah !!!

Total Film


November 2011

Marie Claire


July 2011

Marie Claire


July 2011

Entertainment Weekly


7 October 2011



November 2011


Tags: alexander skarsgard, benedict cumberbatch, chuck, clint eastwood, david wenham, doctor who, firefly, food, links, magazine scans, matthew bomer, sherlock, supernatural, vincent cassel, white collar

  • Give me a break


  • It’s raining men


  • U-571 redux (or sense and sensitivity)


  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded