american woman, stay away from me
Aug. 18th, 2003 01:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mockturle06- Marge: It's not like you go to museums or read books or anything.
Homer: You think I don't want to? It's those TV networks, Marge, they won't let me. One quality show after another, each one fresher and more brilliant than the last. If they only stumbled once, just gave us thirty minutes to ourselves, but they won't! They won't let me live!
Actually there were two good hours of tv. A damn good episode of Stargate fer starters, though I gotta ask, what's with Dream Daniel and Astral Daniel and all the damn beige? Though when Daniel imagined himself returning to the SGC and Jack he was wearing red. Make of that what you will. Okay, so I'm reading too much into it, but what they hey.
Spooks was brilliant, and we even got to see Tom in a tux. Way 007 indeed. The only sour point was at the end. I gotta say: yikes, no Tom, CIA cooties, ewwww (Bro starts humming American Woman ala Austin Powers at this point). Oh, Tom, no, please no. Swapping one creepy chick for yet another is not good, though I was amused at the way Ms CIA took out Psycho Girl. I was also very, very bemused at the high farce of the enormous amount of tea spilt in the US diplomatic pouch and their efforts to hide said pouch from the CIA. Very Ealing. They seem to have at last struck that perfect balance between deadly seriousness and very silly at last. It was also amusing to watch the Brits grate under the complete disrespect the Yanks had for all things British. Times that cringe by a thousand or more and you get to be any other country.
Cracking episode though, in spite of the CIA cooties. Bonus points for the tux and the tea. It is rapidly becoming one of my very favourite tv series.
Saturday was karma payback, big time. Shot full of holes and, as I loathe needles so much, it required the usual dozen or so volunteers off the street to hold me down. I'd make a lousy heroin addict. After that an attempt at a classy cafe breakfast was crashed by the local loonies and public transport was non existant, and what buses there were did weekend routes that resemble the curly bits in the Book of Kells.
I did manage to see what I think was a kite, a little south but the drought has driven birds every which way, and we went past the housing blocks with the modular plastic that just scream 1970 loud and proud. I love those buildings. 1970 was such an optomistic year, the moon had been connquered and there was nothing man couldn't do. The future was going to be so bright we were all going to have to wear shades. Sadly, it never turned out that way, but those dear buildings, still screaming "Tomorrow! Today!", I just love 'em. So very, very Gerry Anderson. Why, you practically hum the theme from UFO just to see 'em.
Of course as I was accompanying AP on a shopping trip and to the flower show that had no flowers (and no public transport), well, it was beyond tedious and unhappy. Like I said, karma payback, bigtime.
Sam saved the day again, being in a two page spead in The Australian, which I deeply appreciated. Again, he was looking good and being wickedly funny. Perfect.
I curled up and watched Illya and Napoleon, as The Spy in The Green Hat was on TCM, the only way I get to watch UNCLE these days. I don't remember seeing this one, and, being one of those two episodes as a movie things, I probably haven't. It was early one, too, so not too awful, although it's amazing how, no matter where the boys are in the world, it always looks like Los Angeles. I was rather stunned by the amount of casual sex and violence within - I rather suspect the EC7 versions I've got are rather edited, like everything else. Napoleon and Illya had a lovely hissy fit right in the middle of everything - just perfect.
After that it was some Classic Trek (it's like the 70s never happened) and then the continuing Bond fest (as EC7 and EC10 tag team Saturday Bond films). I'd not intended to stay up all night watching Diamonds Are Forever but I did, using the time to jot down bits and pieces of fic. I usually try to write complete scenes but these were just snatches of mood, ideas and dialogue that I wanted to get down on paper before I forgot them.
Billy's playing up in this one. Bad, wicked Billy. In fact, Billy is being quite an arsehole and very unlikeable. He has an excuse, but still. I think Alan is about to stop being a doormat and put his foot down. About time, too.
Sunday: Finally found my copy of The Forsythe Saga. I've been looking for it on and off all week. I'd looked for it everywhere. Turns out Teddy had it, sitting in her lap, and more besides. I must have set aside a small collection for viewing, and, not getting the chance, had forgotten about them and knocked them off the bedside table and down onto Teddy's lap. Either that or Teddy's been bogarting the Damian Lewis. As it was I only had a couple of hours of Sunday left so I watched Warriors instead, and combined my much needed Damian and Matthew fix.
Nekkid Damian at that too, and how could I have forgotten? A rather awful, soul grinding story, and when you realise the reality was much, much worse it's just so depressing. The production values are also woeful, with grainy film and muffled dialogue, but still it had my fave Brit boys all angsting away, so it was worthwhile viewing, plus it gave me a few more ideas on how to try and explian why Billy is behaving so very badly.
I'm glad Teddy had my DL collection though, because I was starting to worry it had slipped behind a bookcase, under the bed or worse, through the letter boxed sized gap that has always existed betwixt the wall and the floor in my very, very badly built room, the gap that a lifetime of crap has slipped through. Bro had giggled that losing stuff through the gap was one way to rack up the $300 now required for the ABC rewards, as it looked like I'd have to be buying second copies. Fortunately, no, cause Teddy had it. Teddy must be having some wild dvd parties when I'm out (as always, I'm never invited to parties my tapes go to), and weirdly, that explains the state of my room when I get home some days, it really does - grin. Spooky.
Speaking of spooky, turns out it was the Hellmouth, aka Cleveland did it. Gotta love that blackout, cause it's always so much fun to watch Yanks running about like headless chickens. We have massive blackouts here and we just don't panic, loot or riot like they do. Nobody does it better. Hilarious. Do it again! Do it again! :D
From the SMH today:
Dumped on slag heap
We get the feeling the British have not explained to pop star Christina Aguilera what the term slag actually means.
The Sun reports that Aguilera has defended her raunchy image, saying "I'm a successful 22-year-old woman. If people want to insult me, let them.
"Call me a slag. If being a slag means being a strong woman, I'll gladly be that."
But she didn't stop there, adding: "What is wrong with a young woman showing her sexuality? I'm not making myself into an object."
