mockturle06: (Dean)
Still with the allergies in extremis, and hacking away at all the weeds and scrubbing away at the mould is supposed to help but in action is really, really not. Didn't get to the scanning as planned because the weather report said apocalyptic storms At Any Minute! What we got was a sprinkle of rain that would have struggled to dampen a tissue.

Instead I'd settled down to the classic old Hitchcock version of 39 Steps and a wicked box of chocs, achieved because I'd idly bet a box of chocs on a completely predictable outcome to the Newsroom finale (yay) and Himself thought he'd better pay up after my rant about other people welching on a bet made fairly and squarely and even written down. I reserve the right to use this further example of lowdown dirty behavour as irrefutable proof that the sods are indeed villainous scum deserving of my scorn and contempt. Fair enough, right? I mean, what would Nucky do?

So, after some frantic drudge work, me, couch, chocs and the wonderful Robert Donat. Hey, a gal's gotta have some happy time. It is the best version of the tale ever filmed, I really love it, and so ripped off some scenes were they were almost unfairly comical in a 'that old trope' kind of way, even though this was the original, or near enough. There were two scenes seemingly straight out of Bond flicks that had me thinking 'hmmmm'.

Okay, so I wasn't watching it properly (I blame the boxset of Rifftrax I was sent on Friday) but it was all 'Richard Hannay, confirmed bachelor' after that sculpture in his hallway, and the scene where he and Mrs Scottish Farmer stare at the page of the newspaper in horror, the page advertising HP Sauce, which got us onto HP Sauce speakeasys and Nucky standing on the beach while squarish bottles tumble ashore. Like I said, not watching it properly. Being very silly. And loving it.
more: I think you're experiencing Captain envy )
mockturle06: (Sherlock)
I'm wearing my boots today, the ones I cursed and cursed myself for impulse buying and having to awkwardly lug all the way back from Canberra. I love them so, and they've hardly been off my feet since. I know what I like. Deep down, I do.

Had to go re-buy a book I'd reluctantly been made to relinquish earlier (why is it always my stuff that has to go in the skip), which I'm re-aquainting myself with (it's From Hell by Mr Alan Moore, if you're curious, a rather topical read for me right now, while I'm carrying Poe on the bus/train). I miss my older (more valuable) copy though.
more: the speckled spinster )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
Not a lot to say since I'm not allowed to talk about what I did, what's bothering me greatly, the terrible setbacks and small triumphs of a tiny speck in this crushing mill wheel of life. Nor do you want to hear about the massive piles of magazines to be scanned, shirts to be ironed, etc that are glaring at me daily (and can keep glaring as I'm having a rough week, hot water bottle wise, this week and am not in the mood).

There were snacks, though.

And cake. Surprise cake on Tuesday. I was off sick from ---, and even though I had --- and --- it wasn't happening because, oooh, not good. Spent most of day trying to sleep, and when I finally staggered as far as the couch I found I'd slept through cake being baked (I didn't think I was asleep but I slept through that). Apparently the lemons I'd aquired were gettin' on, so lemon iced tea cake it was. That was nice.

TV? Hardly anything this week, except Hell on Wheels, which I find strangely compelling. Oh, and the Newsroom. It's been absolutely wretched this season, and it has caused me great pain and distress to see a formerly beloved show flopping about limply like a dying fish, crushed under the weight of mandated retooling. And then Jane Fonda showed up. And saved the day. That was...magnificent.

Now, if only Leona/Jane could show up on some other shows I watch and kick some annoying little weasels to the curb, life would be so much better.
more: the mirror crack'd )
mockturle06: (matt and tim)
You know, I could wring my hands over drowned polar bears and flooded islands as well as the next bleeding heart pinko greenie, but when I hear that pasty little Englishmen are contemplating wearing shorts in the city, this is where I must draw the line. No, no, a thousand times no. We must stop this outrage and do something about climate change and warming trends. Now. This instant!

No one should ever have to see an Englishman's knees. It's just too terrible to contemplate.
more: look what they did to my show, ma )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
Went off to another philosophy lecture on Saturday. I love those. I love the ideas I discover, the wild and wide ranging discussion, the aha! moments. I like the way philosophy tries to apply scientific methodology to the esoteric, ethereal, emotional and spiritual. Whether it works or not depends on your own personal philodophy, but for someone like me, completely clueless and born without the manual everyone else seems to have, reading someone elses's observations is invaluable. Also, one nod from the Prof counters almost a week's worth of snips, snarks and red penned rejection at work.

It makes me happy, in a proper Socratic sense of happiness, so why not, eh?

And it keeps me off the streets. Very useful.
more: somewhere over the rainbow )

fog horned

Jun. 6th, 2013 05:13 pm
mockturle06: (merlin arthur)
It's a cold, dark and wet morning and I have a little punnet of instant oats in my desk drawer. Huzzah. Carrying the thin plastic tub of boiling water all the way back to my desk was a bit Kung Fu, though. It was very Kung Fu, actually (ouch ouch ouch hot hot hot burny burny).

Meanwhile, I went and saw a play, yay, and did some courses (epic fail).
more: twits and twats )
mockturle06: (Avengers)
Okay, so the holiday is now officially over. One last wish, before I settle down to the daily misery that is my new office. You see, I was watching the Hobbit on the plane on the way back (or one of the planes, anyway) and I wished that I could see Richard Armitage.

Wish granted. I did see him, on Wednesday night, at the Popcorn Taxi Q&A.
more: the cat's meow, apples and oranges, and the big bunny )
mockturle06: (Lewis)
Such a cosy gathering at Chez Munroe in Grimm last Sunday, the gang all together, happy days. Except Juliet rattling around alone in the big empty house slowly going nuts. Can you say entirely surplus to requirements? Good thing, too. No tv show ever needs a whining girlfriend.

It's about time they got rid of her, anyways, as Nick is starting to enjoy it way too much (I saw that smile). There's always a paying of the piper in tv shows. Get rid of her, give Nick some new reasons to feel all guilty and angsty, hit your tropes, move on. Not original, I know, but she just does not fit in with Nick's wee Scooby Gang. TV time is limited, give her the flick, I say.

Nothing worse than having valuable screentime gobbled up by characters I cannot stand in shows I like. If you wanna do a buddy cop show, do a buddy cop show, ferkrissakes, and stop dilly dallying with pointless, story slowing domesticity. If I want domesticity, I'll watch Munro in the kitchen, thank you very much.

Okay, rant over. And I'm not even going to mention the maggots. Ick.
the joy of cowboys )
mockturle06: (Fassbender)
Bless the Google doodle. They've had some beauts lately, and it is so often one of the few things to raise a smile these days, which is terrible, but the world is a much meaner place these days.

Nobody has time for meandering eccentrics these days, it's A Type arseholes, and isn't it grand. Just look at all those bankers and hedge fund managers, all those disgraced and/or arrested so called sporting heroes. Those so called sportsmen make this cynic smile bitterly, as recent press would seem to prove that this type are the same poisonous violent bullies they always were in the schoolyard.

With all these bullies roaming about, it's no wonder it's so difficult for those who don't fit the narrow deinition of acceptable these days. Sigh. Sometimes I think Wllie Loman in Death of a Salesman isn't the isolated incident of a loser who couldn't cut it, but the canary in the coalmine.

There should be more to life than screwing over the other guy. There should be.

Oh, apparently it's not just my imagination. It's in the water: Anti-anxiety drug in water makes fish fearless.

Anyways, went off to Canberra to see the TOULOUSE-LAUTREC: PARIS AND THE MOULIN ROUGE exhibition at the NGA, as part of my running away from home thing.
more: decadence for art's sake )
mockturle06: (Dean sad)
It's not often, but not as uncommon as one might suspect, to find old Dirty Dick, Richard III, in the news. I must admit, I've been following the posthumous adventures of the fellow with a keen interest, ever since my visit to the Richard III museum in York, where keen but interesting folk regaled me on all matters RIII, but they were kind, I was lonely, they wanted to talk, I was happy to listen, and so, ever since, every mention has attracted my attention, and well, the return of the king - who would have expected that!

History, live. Archaelogists, Richard apologists, rejoicing. Arguments over where to re-bury him, the war of the roses stirring up again. Fabulous stuff. My history buffy self has been well satisfied.
more: men with tennis rackets, hats, rubber ducks, mountains and car parks )
mockturle06: (Neal)
A collection of links and scans featuring White Collar, Tim Dekay and more Matt Bomer than you could poke a stick at. Read on... )
mockturle06: (Dean sad)
What have I been up to? Not much. There was the Cary Grant course at Sydney Uni that I thought, as it was being given by Mr David Stratton, would be a critical examination of the man and his motives, but no, it was just sitting there watching clips and the odd film. As I'm a big time fan, it's hard to be churlish, I enjoyed the opportunity to watch Cary Grant films uninterrupted under the cover of academic study, but still. Some discussion would have been nice. I fear the, um, vigourous discourse, in my philosophy classes has perhaps spoiled me a bit, expectations wise.

So that was a touch on the meh side, as if watching North By Northwest could ever be meh. Come on, you know I'm a fan, did you see what I got up to on my last trip (still can't get out to Mt Rushmore, though)?


more: music, with a side of bacon )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
Monday: It's an ill wind and all that, and there is one good thing to have come from the McCarthy witch hunts, albeit indirectly, and that is Shakespeare's Globe theatre, dream project of Sam Wanamaker, father of Zoe, who ended up in London as a result of being blacklisted.

I couldn't make the screening of Much Ado About Nothing, which I had been squeeing about in anticipation for weeks, and I was, and remain, completely gutted, but, bless 'em, the Globe just got back to my hastily thumbed email to say that they would certainly think about venues closer to my locale (which is kind, as Sydney transport is nowhere near London transport) and that Much Ado would be out on dvd from The Globe shop by years's end. So yay. Not as much fun as being there, or seeing it on the big screen, but still very much yay because I thought I'd missed out.
more: in the air tonight )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
What I've been up to. Well, I've been yelled at a lot, that's fer sure. I wish I was invisible. I wish I wasn't such a screw up. I wish I had a gentle and supportive life coach at my elbow telling me the right things to do and say so I don't get yelled at so much. I mean, I try, but clearly falling well short of the mark.

It's depressing. If trying my best isn't good enough, then what good am I? No good, screams back the answer, loudly. Sigh.

Anyway, despite being an apparent walking human tornado of horribleness, I did go out to see Bill Bailey at the State and that was fun.
more: Snakes. Why'd it have to be snakes? )

funny face

Aug. 31st, 2012 05:35 pm
mockturle06: (Dean sad)
Tuesday: I am having such a terrible time with liars, thieves, brutes and despots, I will instead tell you about my night at the theatre. Yes, due to losing my calendar, firewalls and pretty much having to rely on stuff I'd scrawled on scraps of paper, I'd severely overbooked myself this week (and I'm doing it again, though they brought out the Big Guns, in my defence, stuff I just can't say no to), and I wasn't looking forward to another grim piece of theatre, but you know what? I didn't mind it.

I do think the bad boy wunderkid of local theatre has his days numbered though, as the theatre was empty past my row H, which was unfortunate, and, yes, hello, bare, enormous, empty stage again, and the patrons either side of me did complain that it was a bit bleak for a Monday, and so it was, watching a nice, ordinary, nothing special but not a bad person middle aged woman suffer, go slowly mad and try and kill herself. Bleak isn't the word. And yet Kerry Fox was so good, so damn bloody good, she filled that cavernous space and made me weep.
more: crazy ivan )
mockturle06: merlin in a hat (Default)
Friday: That storm I saw coming in yesterday looked very impressive in the weather radar, so I popped off early (there is no more loyalty or duty left in the tank, it has all been spent on arid soils) figuring if I was at least halfway home when it hit, I'd be halfway home at least. Funnily enough, ended up sharing a bus seat with Himself, so we kept an anxious look on the clouds that moved from CCC to 333 in the colour chart, while he showed my pictures of toy Daleks in shop windows and girls with Beatles balloons (quite the archive he has rescued, not unlike Oswald in Shooting the Past).

Anyway, it was dark and blowy when we got off the bus and there was much activity in recovering blown away recycling bins (and not small ones, either), stacking fallen branches (and not small ones, either) and battening down of hatches a good few seconds before the storm hit with a WHUMPF! and sent rain smashing into the back windows and lightning spearing down. Huddle, huddle.

Himself was out of the room when a mighty column of lightning smacked down, sucking the air of of the room in an instant and filling it with ozone, making the sky go white and the windows shake so hard I'd though they'd break. That was the end of it as it moved off with a pitiful drizzle and half an hour later there were clear bands of sky and sunset, but I was a little spent and there was no getting on the webs for me that night.
more: the beat goes on )
mockturle06: (matt)
Last night I found The Killing in the guide and I was thinking, yay, get me some Danish coppers, as I was in the mood for a bit of Scandi-angst, but no, it was the dashed American version, wasn't it. Oh, how we laughed at the old Needle, not wearing its bright birthday livery. McCathyist Red, snarked the Peanut Gallery, unkindly, as it was 'galaxy gold', as I recall, with 're-entry red,' 'orbital olive' and 'astronaut white' rounding out the colours, which Prince Phillip called garish, and history notes it as being the only time the old codger and I have shared an opinion, and you know you're getting old and grumpy when you start nodding at anything Prince Phillip says.

Sadly, I realise I never took a picture of the outside, so chastened last time by friends over my Warhol-like study of the old Needle (less of the old, I'm not far behind, oh mercy). I remember my first sight of my very beloved Needle again, re-painted, and squeaking. What had they done? I'm down with the retro, but still, what a shock. Good thing The Killing never got renewed, or they'd kill themselves over the continuity - grin.
more: wine, weather and pretty boys all in a row )
mockturle06: (Neal)
So I went to see The Sapphires last night. And it was fun. An Australian film...that was fun. That we live in such an age of wonders.

It really was. Yes, it was a glossy, feel good storey, but what's wrong with that? It made me laugh, cheer, clap, cry and hold my breath. It delighted. It moved. It educated, in broad strokes, if you're unaware of the era. It rocked, basically.
more: soul sisters and duck sauce )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
To be positive and upbeat, on Saturday night there was a rare roast (in every sense) and chai hot chocolates and Tom Hardy romping about on the telly in doublet and hose and a rakish pearl earring (I had The Virgin Queen on telly). Friday night, as I was upset, I was treated to comfort food and poached pears in spices (which formed the pear flavoured syrup for the chai hot chocolates on Saturday).

Sunday brought Hawking to telly, the first in UKTV's 'celebrating the genius that is Benedict Cumberbatch' month. Oh, if I could only get a copy of that fangasm ad. UKTV goes Japanese schoolgirl strange for Benedict. It's so endearing (and a little creepy). Nevertheless, I was treated to some prime time prime Cumberbatch goodness, and this made me happy.
more: sticky fingers and dodging bullets )

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