My hour for tea is half-past five, and my buttered toast waits for nobody.

Last night I dreamt we were overrun with Nimons, though they weren't half as much trouble as those people down the street, but everyone was asking me how to get rid of them and I had no idea because I'd given up watching Who at that stage. Even in my dreams I'm complete rubbish and useless.

Anyhoo, I supposed you heard my shrill shriek on Sunday. Yes, it was a girlie scream. Having to go out and finish the watering at dusk (and dusk lasts 30 seconds here so it was night by the time I got out the door), I figured how big could the spiders be? Oh, that big. And fie on you know who not coming to my rescue, pinned down as I was by the giant spider. The giant angry spider (trying to hose/shoo him off the wall just made him fiesty). Wibble.
( more: bad sam, crazy sam )

Monday: Um, no scans this week. I had other stuff to do and it was hot. Plus I'm knackered. Running around like a blue arsed fly. Made myself sick on Sunday, but that's what I get for weeding in 38C heat after having yoghurt and berries for lunch.

Today I am weilding the holepunch. You know, I wasted my twenties going to uni at night just so I'd never have to spend all day holepunching again, but sans proper job, it's my "special project" of the week. They didn't even sugar coat it with "as you've got records management experience..." Nope, it was just "holepunch, bitch". So I holepunch (therefore I am?).
( more: 99 Luftballons )

Hey there, sports fans. I think I'll skip the usual ruminations and just give y'all a quick recap since it's been a while since I've had any time to actually write an entry (even now I'm multi-tasking with stuff downloading, disks burning and cuppa cooling - Sam would be proud).
( more: see those eyes )

Not too much of a happy camper this morning. To be sure there was Dougie, Simmo, the Gene Genie and Jonas for all, but RL sucketh mightily.
( more: Weren't you the one who tried to break me with goodbye, did you think I'd crumble, did you think I'd lay down and die? )

"Were it not for us being such bad coppers, in 20 years time all those cold case shows like Waking The Dead wouldnt have cases to re-open!" - Dead Ringers LOM sketch.

Well, I've often thought that. I keep waiting for the Waking the Dead crew to open up one of Gene's old cases. Or the New Tricks lot. :)

Meanwhile, I was supposed to be reading my new(ish) book, but I ended up watching the clouds as we mounted the old Anzac bridge. What clouds. Piled high in boiling mountains up into a pale blue sly, darkly grey and hellish orange at the bottom but lit all fluffly white and pinky golden at the very top as dawn had just, that second, started to break. Full on Hollywood clouds. Constable would have creamed himself.
( more: exit, stage left )

Apologies for the late running BNW again. What can I say? My path is strewn with cowpats from the devil's own satantic herd, etc, etc.

Meant to post it Friday but was kept back after school again (and this after being screamed at for all the unpaid overtime I clocked up - like it's my fault I don't get the urgent stuff until after 5pm). So I missed nearly everything bar Spooks. Mmmm...Adam. I forgot to mention that last week I was bemused to see the action seemed to revolve around a station coffee shop I knew intimately - grin.
( more: '...and I get paid for just bein' a freak' )

No, nothing to do with woodland deviancy (per se) but apparently an old radio series, discussed at length recently in the Herald. Apparently set in a RAF base where silliness abounded, it sounds like a precursor to MASH.

It also sounds like the sort of lunacy I endure here. Though today I was given the stationery catalogue to go through and draw up an order. I think it was meant to be a punishment, but they weren't aware of my stationery porn fetish - until now. Weird stuff in there, too. I had no idea one could order one of those green shaded desk lamps so beloved of American law shows. "You could stay back late at night and eat takeaway from those American paper containers, but never just one, it has to be at least three, and feel you've arrived," said a colleague, thoroughly versed in the conventions of the tv law show.

Yes, we'd all like to sit at a big desk in a pencil skirt with American-style Chinese takeaway and feel we've finally arrived. Suave.

Failing that, I amused myself on the bus this morning with thoughts of further forest frolics (though why reading poor Jane Austen should inspire this I shall never know - was it something Mr Knightley said?). The Clannad nearly got loose though, but I've managed to chain it back up in the dungeon. If it gets out again I shall have to give it to the sheriff as a plaything.

I've also been searching around to try and convey that I liked episode three of Life on Mars, but...but then I read the "..and I would have got away with it if not for you pesky kids" line on TRA and that just about finished the episode for me. Sadly, all the subtle shades and tones seem to be missing this season. It all seems just a bit clunky and heavy handed, like the line about Irish not bombing pubs. Gee, I wonder what on earth they could be referring to? [/sarcasm]
( more: let slip the dogs of cgi )

Sorry about the late running Brit News Weekly. It's ready to go but last night's drama was the eventual non arrival of the bug man. But while I waited (and waited) it was a job for a dvd (all praise the stop button) and what did I have to watch but Life on Mars.
( more: everyday I love you less and less (spoilers) )

Okay, oysters, red wine and Rome don't mix. This much I have learnt.

They were surprisingly good oysters though, picked up from the local chip shop (usually a dubious enterprise). The wine was a disappointment though. I was impressed that in the last year the bottleshop had expanded from one single shelf of red to a bookcase and now an entire wall. So much choice, but, alas, I chose poorly. Well, there weren't any of the labels I usually go for, so I had to take a punt.

I went with a Shiraz from SA that promised much but delivered little, and it was on the second most expensive shelf, too. I was hoping for something light and fruity but it tasted exactly like a Californian wine (to the point of having to re-check the label), with that horrid strained through potting mix aftertaste. Bleuch. Mind you, it got me legless with just one tiny Kraft krystal glass, so perhaps that's where the priciness came from.

I shoulda stuck with something from NSW though. At least then I know it's gonna taste like paint stripper and if it leaves the enamel on my teeth I'll be pleasantly surprised.
( more: friends, romans, c.... )