I've been listening to a bunch of Doctor Who and Torchwood audiobooks since the semester started (there's a certain amount of time to fill) and am currently in the middle of Joseph Lidster's In the Shadows. I am enjoying it hugely so far for two reasons:

First, it is creepy as fuck and read by Eve Myles, who is really, really good at reading "creepy as fuck" (see also: certain segments of Border Princes - which, a quick Googling has told me, Lidster did the excellent abridgment of).

Second, it contains the following description of Jack: "He was indescribable, like a gay shampoo advert."

I kind of love Joseph Lidster right now.

(Now if only Eve would stop trying to do an American accent for Jack's dialogue. Oh my god. She didn't do one for Border Princes, and now I see why. And I want to know this: why is it that, when a Brit (from any part of the UK, apparently) fails epically at rendering a halfway decent American accent, it always sounds vaguely like the American stereotype of a leprechaun? It's highly unfortunate. And hilarious.)

I got new glasses last week, but they were supertight, esp. on my temples, so I had to take them in to get adjusted before I could wear them.

This would not be a particularly notable event, except that when I handed them over for the adjustment, the woman's response was pretty funny. She took one look at them and was like, "Um, yes. These are dumb." She didn't use those exact words, but that was her tone. Apparently my glasses are mutant.

The new glasses in and of themselves are notable, since my last new pair was in 2003. Aaaaand one of the lenses has little cracks on the side, so they ordered a new lens to replace it, so I'll have to go back in again to get the new one fitted in. But it's just as well, since they're still a little bit tight behind the ears (which she suspected they would be, but it's one of those things where it just doesn't show up till after you've worn them for a few hours), so I'd have to go in for more adjustment anyway.

I mean. I know going to new glasses from ones that have been broken in for years is going to be a change, but jeez.

Also: I saw A Single Man today, which - don't. Just . . . just don't. It's so - okay. The opening credits spool over shots of Colin Firth (I think, you don't really see his face so it might be a double) flailing about underwater naked in a Graceful and Artistic Manner. And these shots show up a couple more times in the movie when his character (dealing with the loss of his lover in an accident a few months prior) is feeling overwhelmed, because GET IT, it's like he's DROWNING. IN GRIEF. Get it? GET IT? DO YOU? DO YOU GET IT!?!?!?!

I feel this is all you need to know to understand what kind of movie this is.

Plus, the ending - I don't feel like doing a spoiler cut, so I'll just say that the ending is bald-faced bullshit in terms of both storytelling and Unfortunate Implications and leave it at that. Seriously. Fuck this movie. Only see this movie if Colin Firth being awesome is relevant to your interests, because he is. And when the movie backs off for two goddamn seconds and lets him and the rest of the cast just be awesome, it is possible to forget for a little while that you are watching arty pretentious garbage.

I got my Villainess package, complete with Miss Edith perfume oil and a reworking of Lipstick Lost that I was curious to check out! Yay!

I am severely congested and can't smell a goddamn thing! FAIL.

On the other hand, having my first cold for like a year (seriously, you guys, it has been a really good run, I've been waiting to get sick for like three months now, so I really don't have any room to complain) has led me to the following vital discovery: Kleenex now makes three-ply tissues. Is this new? Is it old? Who cares? IT'S AWESOME. They are so soft. And I don't have to fold them over to keep from blowing right through them!

I've been sitting on this one for a while, hoping to get the specials done, but there hasn't been a chance for that since the semester began. I have a vacation week after next (spring semester is so weird), so I'm gonna shoot for getting them done then. They're gonna be tougher going because they're twice as long and pretty political - I might have to do, like, research or some shit to manage anything coherent. But then I get to do series three, and I'm still looking forward to that.

Anyway!

Here we have a proper finale, which would eventually prove to double as Hugh Abbot's exit from The Thick of It. Yeah, I told you we'd get back to that.

( intelligent ventilators )

In brief: things I have done over the last couple of weeks.

* Classes! I had to drop American Popular Culture on account of it having so much reading that I may as well have been taking a third English class, so I replaced it with Historical Construction of Sexuality, which I had wanted to take anyway but couldn't take on the fifth class. Four is plenty, especially now that I'm in the higher level courses. And it . . . has so much reading I may as well be taking a third English class. Sigh. (I think I got spoiled by the History prof I had the past two semesters, whose reading assignments were almost always able to be treated as optional, since he gave such thorough notes in class.) It's a nice parallel to my Gender and Sexuality Theory class, though, and I think the two of them paired together will be helpful this semester.

Also, my Acting for Non-Majors class involves yoga. WTF is that all about? Yes, please, let's perform activities I associate with gym class, which I am still, at twenty-seven years old, grateful that I no longer have to attend. That'll get me nice and wound up and uncomfortable just in time for the various acting exercises! And, oh god, last week we did one of those guided relaxation thingies - you know, the kind where a soothing voice (or, in this case, the professor) tells you to relax your body an inch at time over the course of like twenty minutes? I cannot be the only person for whom this has the opposite effect. Thirty seconds in ("Relax your scalp") and I've got ants crawling under my skin and I want to run around in circles screaming. This is my reaction to anything that involves holding still/making careful, deliberate little movements for longer than like three seconds. (I would be the worst surgeon EVER.) So if we have to do that again this week, I may lose my shit. Or possibly lose a battle with the Giggle Loop, which you should NOT GOOGLE if you don't know what it is. Trust me. You're better off that way.

* Oh, yeah, also, I had a birthday on the twenty-third. Thanks to everyone who wished me a good one! If you posted something and I didn't comment, it's probably because when I scanned my flist that evening, I was not entirely sober, so I missed it.

* I have effected a change in my wardrobe! It now involves more tunic shirts and leggings and skirts and fewer jeans and t-shirts. I am bored of jeans and t-shirts, because that's what I've been wearing for like fifteen years, and I love the tunic shirts that are in style right now because they allow me to wear more comfortable things like leggings. I have a belly and jeans dig into it when I sit. The wrong pair can actually give me a stomachache. And I want skirts and dresses too because I also have thighs, and the inseam of a pair of jeans (aka, the only part of the entire jean that cannot be fucking patched) wears through too quickly. And I HATE jeans shopping, omg. Skirts will not present that problem. And leggings have less friction than denim, I think, and are cheaper to replace in any case.

I really miss pockets, though. Goddamn. I only have one actual skirt so far and want a couple more. I'll be looking for ones with pockets.



And that is all the fascinating stuff I have not been posting about since the semester started. And now that I've caught up on that, maybe I'll start posting again because I won't be thinking "BUT THERE'S SO MUCH I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO START HALP maybe tomorrow."

Dollhouse!

( Brief thoughts on Epitaph Two. )

Um. So I like to keep my iPod Touch next to me while I'm in the other room doing reading for classes, so I can check my e-mail. I know, I know, but it's one less excuse I can use to get up and walk away from the book for even thirty seconds, so lesser of two evils, right?

Except then I got an e-mail from Villainess, a soap/lotion/perfume/yummy stuff company to which I have been devoted for years. I ALWAYS have some Villainess, even if I've been broke and had to use up my stash and am down to half a bar of that one limited edition scent I must always have a chunk of. For me, at the moment (well, the last year or two, really), that scent is Miss Edith. And now Miss Edith has been rereleased and is available in PERFUME FORM.

Soooo . . .

I'm pretty sure I proved something really unfortunate by promptly dropping the essay on feminist theory I was reading to run to my computer and order perfume.

(Yes, I know I've dropped off the face of the LJ for the past week. There'll be a real update soon and I'll get back into posting again, I promise.)

So I finally figured out how to use the school's bookstore website to check out what I'll need to buy for books this semester. (Why did I just figure this out after three semesters here? Because I didn't fucking know I could. They don't tell you any of this shit, you have to find it out for yourself. I really miss SMCC sometimes. They understand how to make themselves easily accessible to their students.)

Okay, first, the list that comes up includes the ISBN code. Isn't that sweet, how they think I'm not going to take that shit and run with it to Amazon to find used copies even cheaper than their used copies?

Second, the list for my US Popular Culture class, which is a History class, is longer than the lists for both my English classes put together. I am not fooled by this for a second - those classes have anthologies - but I was entertained by the fact that I will be reading multiple novels for a history course.

One of said novels, which I will not be reading, is Catcher in the Rye. HELL TO THE FUCKING NO I HATE THAT BOOK SO MUCH. SO FUCKING MUCH. FLAMES! FLAMES ON THE SIDE OF MY FACE! Seriously, it's not worth giving myself a stroke from rage because I can't reach into the book and beat Holden Caulfield senseless. Hate. HATE. HAAAAAATE. And you know what's funny? I know people on the internets who hate that fucking book as much as I do, but people IRL are always shocked, SHOCKED I SAY, that anyone could possibly hate it. So this should be interesting.

Hey, guys? I need a new blanket for my bed, and I don't really know where the fuck to shop for things I like. My current blanket falls in the "delightfully fug quilt" category, and I want another that falls into a similar category. I do not want to pay a zillion dollars for it, and I don't want to sift through a bunch of vomitously cutesy quilts that trick me into thinking the plainer ones are delightfully fug when they're really kind of unremarkable.

I will also go for comforters, if plaid is involved. Or something outrageously ugly that in no way involves flowers. I like my bedding to be interesting.

And I do just about everything sitting on my bed, so darker designs that will help camouflage smaller stains are good.

Help?

(Also: Firefox thinks "fug" is a word - which, admittedly, it is. Just a really old-fashioned one. However, Firefox does not feel the same about words such as "draught" or "teleport." I love many things about you, Firefox, but your dictionary is not one of them.)

Ways to tell I am tired and sick:

( Major spoilers for Dollhouse. )

But ugh I feel like such crap, I think I'm coming down with what's been taking people out left and right at work. Which, since I just gave my notice (fuck you controlling manager I am done with your shit HAHAHAHA), is really fucking terrific.

I had best be better by Tuesday, when classes start.

So you know what's an awesome way to kill time at the laundromat? Watching an episode of TToI and taking notes, of course! From which, incidentally, I learned that I spend around an hour doing just that before I even get to writing these posts. Which, even though I don't come even close to covering everything, also take me about an hour. So let's get to it.

( The Thick of It, 2x02 - inflatable castles )

I've seen several different methods of donation/places to donate to on my flist, but I haven't seen this one yet, so I'll pass it on:

Text "HAITI" to 90999 to donate ten dollars to Red Cross relief for Haiti.

Or you can do this:



Both methods will put the donation amount on your cell phone bill next cycle. I've heard that the Red Cross has a cap of thirty dollars, but I don't know if Yéle has anything similar. Also, Yéle states on its donation page that one hundred percent of donations will go to Haiti relief, as I am told is the case with Red Cross as well.

And remember, if you can't afford to donate now, but you'll have the money later, do it then. Haiti isn't going to magically stop needing help by the end of the week, or even the end of the month.

I'm still trying to stockpile these a little, and not post one until I have one or two more written up. It's easier to deal with that way. So at this rate, I will definitely finish the first six eps before classes start back up a week from tomorrow (yay), and maybe even have done the specials.

Second series premiere? Well, it'd be a good premiere ep, if that weren't completely fucking stupid. Anyway.

( The Thick of It, 2x01 - thanks honeybunny )

My dad is still in the hospital, and thanks to my work schedule, this was the first day since Tuesday that I could get out to visit him.

And you know what, I know this is a seriously played out argument, but here's the thing: the nurse took his blood sugar and told him firmly that he needed to eat his dinner, and then like twenty minutes later, they brought in one of the less appetizing meals I've seen in my life. He ate what he could, and I tried to get him to eat some more, but man, it's hard to argue with the simple fact that he was chewing that last bite of dry-ass turkey I convinced him to take like two minutes later because he couldn't fucking swallow it. It was a little frustrating.

. . . I did get some lulz from the "cranberry sauce," though. It took us a minute to find it; it was listed in the nutritional information, but Dad was like, "I don't see any cranberry sauce." Eventually, I spotted it:



I hadn't seen it before because I'd assumed it was a thing of jam to go with the roll. Which, really, why not just call it cranberry jam? (Those tiny letters below "cranberry" say "imitation flavor," by the way.) Why get a person's hopes up?

Dad wasn't too amused, but I laughed and laughed. And took a picture with my cell phone, with the spoon included for scale (and my dad's full name blocked out with the powers of my super-basic graphics program). He was even less amused when I got him to try it after tasting it myself; I honestly thought it tasted fine, but then I don't much like cranberry sauce, so perhaps I was not the best judge. Apparently it was pretty gross - the face Dad made reminded me of my baby brother's the first time Mom gave him applesauce.

(And the whole time we were watching Anthony Bourdain eat awesome things involving red meat on No Reservations, which I think in retrospect did not help make Dad's meal any more appealing to him.)

And thus concludes my contribution to the well-explored territory of Hospital Food Fail.

A interesting meme going around:

If you could have me write a story specifically for you, what would it be like? Fandom, characters/pairing, genre, plot elements, kinks (if applicable): what's your ideal story? from me?

I may or may not write you a snippet. I promise nothing.

I would also like to note that my job is okay, but my manager sucks, all we do on his days off is stand around talking about how much we hate him, and half the reason I haven't quit is because I'm afraid I'll miss the uprising where we all stand in a circle around him and explain to him the many ways in which he is invited to go fuck himself. In re: icon - I'd rather work for Malcolm Tucker. (My manager is more like a fifty-percent-less-skeevy Steve Fleming.)

Dollhouse.

( 2x11 - Getting Closer. This reaction is short, yet incoherent. ) It's been a looooong week. Remember those plans I had to keep to limited availability for work and not ruin my vacation working too many hours? Yeah, why didn't I stick to that?

I am working nine-hour shifts four days in a row (after being accustomed to two four-hour shifts a week during the semester, mind you; my tolerance is shot) and so do not have mental energy for much and shan't for the next few days.

I did, however, have to stir myself to share this retroactively obnoxious macro, which I found in a post from April 2008:

( spoilers for Doctor Who, The End of Time Parts I and II )

You know how I said in the first post that some episodes are more politicky than others? Yeah, this is one of them. I'm not really clear on some of what happens here, so I didn't find this story quite as absorbing as usual and my post is a bit more scattered.

It's also rather later than intended - I wrote it about a week ago, planning to stockpile a few of these before I continued to post them, but it was so much to deal with (and I was tired when I did it, which I do not think helped) that I couldn't do another episode until tonight. So, obviously, I'm not going to get these finished before vacation is over, but I'll do my best. I'm more clear-headed now and think it will be a bit easier to plow through the the last two episodes of series two. The specials, I don't even know, I'll deal with those when I get there. I miss series three, though, and I can't wait to rewatch it.

But for now:



( The Thick of It 1x03 - unidentified amusing creatures )

O HAY Yuletide reveal. Yeah, that kind of got lost for me in the last few days. I wrote "All of Denmark", a modernized Hamlet AU set at the beginning of WWII and drawing a little on actual events in Denmark at the time. It was fun to write and I thank my recipient for explicitly giving me permission to go for AUs or modernizations, so that I felt comfortable getting a little out there and settling on a premise that was a bit of a reach.

In the spirit of the thing, have that fic meme that's been going around!

( Cut because I talk a lot. )

Oh my god, the calling out gamble.

You know. When you're awake two hours before your shift starts, and you suspect you might be sick, but it's hard to tell what's genuine ick and what's the product of, like, sleep deprivation or whatever.

(I am not hungover. I chose the cheap wine expressly because I knew from experience that it would make me stupid enough to drink the entire bottle, but that it wasn't strong enough for that bottle to tip me over from tipsy to drunk. It's a science.)

And since you have two hours before said shift starts, there's only so much time to evaluate the situation before it becomes Not Cool to call out. So what do you do?

Well, I can't stop fucking coughing, and I work in food service, where that kinda thing doesn't look so good. So I took a chance and called out shortly after I coughed long and hard enough to bring my first couple bites of breakfast back up. So far, this seems to have been the right choice.

It also puts visiting Dad right out of the question, just in case. He's doing a lot better, by the way; his blood sugar is coming down and all that good stuff. Thanks to the people who replied to my post about it. *hugs* I have an awesome flist.

Unrelated inquiry: Does yesterday's Doctor Who make more sense if you actually remember most of the stuff from, say, the first forty-five minutes? I kind of doubt that to be the case, but I thought I'd ask.