Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Does not compute.

Granted, I like to do silly things. Yell at people walking when I drive by, swipe small things from friends' houses just to see if they notice, decide that random acts of petty vandalism keep my felonious hand in, what have you. But what I do not understand is why British hooligans do things like this. Admittedly, it does sound just weird enough that I wonder whom I could rope into doing something this ridiculous in the States. If you're game, email me. There are tons of arty crap we could nab for no apparent reason.

Monday, May 29, 2006

X-Men 3: The Last Review

Let's just get this out of the way, shall we? This review is going to contain SPOILERS--if you don't like that, might I suggest you read earlier spoiler-free entries?

All right, are we done? Good.

Because I am so very very much the comic geek and one of those people who see movies they have been salivating over the very weekend they open, my Favorite Scientologist and I decided there was no better way to spend an idle Memorial Day afternoon than looking at mutants. It gives me the chance to put on my critic's pants--which are unbearably itchy at times--and sit in the darkened cool theater, eating candy.

(At this point, I have taken a pause to snack on said candy because I wrote about candy.)

Okay, first off: I am not going to go into the whole Bryan Singer/Brett Ratner drama. So Singer decided he wanted to spend more time with the Man of Steel than he did with Professor X. It was his choice. I will say this: I could tell it was a different director right off the bat. While Singer does big budget well, he also cares about the story, and Brett Ratner's directing gigs haven't exactly been what I would call "damn fine cinema," he definitely opted for visual spectacle over storyline. That's fine; I mean, it is pretty bloody exciting seeing the Golden Gate Bridge get sheared in half to form a new path to Alcatraz Island. I like special effects as much as the next person but not as much as say, people who dress like Star Wars characters. Again, being a writer, I like stories. The premise of X-Men 3 is fairly simple: a wealthy industrialist finds a "cure" for the mutant gene culled from a mutant called Leech. His impetus for finding this so-called cure stems from walking in on his young son furiously trying to remove the nascent wings on his back with any number of sharp objects. (That scene alone made me all squirmy.) Of course, years later, he announces he can cure the mutant gene, and it all comes down to perception. Professor X and his crew don't seem to have much of an opinion; oddly enough, it's Storm who gets on the soapbox here, telling the students, "There's nothing to cure. There's nothing wrong with us, any of us." My God, Halle Berry emoting. Must be the wig. Professor X looks curiously neutral. Wolverine glares. And Cyclops continues to mourn Jean Grey's death and look like a complete and total pussy while doing so. Seriously, that's all he does. Cry. Like. A. Girl. Meanwhile, the government has kidnapped Mystique and are holding her for ransom so they find that pesky Magneto. Don't get me wrong, I heart Ian McKellen, but man, does he love to act. He loves to tear up the screen with that lovely aristocratic voice of his, but sometimes he just needs to take it down a peg. Magneto's new right-hand man is Pyro (played by the awfully cute Aaron Stanford with a bad bleach job) and Pyro is itching to do what all young men yearn to do: set shit on fire. And I think we all know how Magneto feels about the possibility for the cure. I mean, we couldn't understand it enough from the first two movies where Nazism is implied at every freakin' turn. Mutants: the future, humans: assholes. I've got it. I couldn't get it more unless you dropped the Anvil of Obviousness on my head. And meanwhile, back at Cyclops' House of Heartbreak, he starts hearing Jean's voice in his head. (Some girlfriends just don't stay dead, eh?) So he goes back to Alkali Lake where he cries AGAIN and then the next thing you know, "Hey, here's my dead girlfriend looking way hotter than a dead chick has any right to look, but wait, this doesn't seem like her at all." Fanboys, you already know the Dark Phoenix storyline. And I'm thinking the rest of you can guess that Cyclops' won't get to enjoy his honey for too much longer. I'm okay with that. This is where the movie started to suffer for me. Too many stories trying to be told (I ain't even going to acknowledge the teen love triangle also put forth in the film)and not even enough attention paid to keeping them orderly and cohesive.

It goes like this: the Phoenix gets pissed, the Phoenix kills the Professor, and Magneto attempts to claim her for own his own. Wolverine, Storm, and Beast (played by a very game Kelsey Grammar) decide they have to stop Magneto from destroying the sad little mutant boy who is inadvertently responsible for providing a cure. Seriously, that part is sad. The kid has been nothing but a guinea pig for most of his life, so where's the pity? They take Iceman, Shadowcat, and Colossus with them--Rogue by now on her way to get the cure so she can touch people--to defend the humans and the sad little mutant boy. The battle at the end of the flick is fairly kick-ass; especially the "chase" scene with Juggernaut (played by the always awesome Vinnie Jones) and Shadowcat. Wolverine gets to stalk around and kill things--which I don't think he ever gets to do enough of in any of these flicks--Storm gets to be fairly useless, and Beast...well, he's just cool. The X-Men prevail as they always do, but not before they strip of Magneto of his powers, Wolverine kills the Phoenix, and essentially scour everything on Alcatraz Island to rubble. I know we all love to see these movies--especially us comic geeks--because we want to see what mutants make the cut. (Oh, Gambit, wherefore art thou?) But sadly, this venture out, too many mutants, not enough time. Angel doesn't really do much of anything in this film. He soars, he looks buff, but really? A little bit silly. Juggernaut, Multiple, and Callisto could have been more fleshed out, but weren't. Too many frying pans, not enough fire. Nonetheless, I have no doubt I'll see it as many times as I've seen the others. Perhaps repeated viewings will soften my opinion a little bit more.

Though I seriously doubt it.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

I'm a re-TARDIS, pt. 13

As long as you people realize that the BBC is the one feeding me continous images of my beloved Doctors.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

And lo, the audience said it was good.

This won't be a very long entry as my computer is giving me hassles about posting pics, but I would like to thank everyone who has been reading this blog. And I would also like to thank them for sending me emails telling me that they enjoy it. I'm glad you enjoy it. I want you to continue to enjoy it. And feel free to email me and tell me about you would like to see more of. (For those of you who might say more Doctor Who, do you really think that's possible? You do? I do too!) I don't have any links or anything right now as my brain feels a bit fried. Oh wait, I do have one.

YouTube has been my bloody lifesaver for Series Two. It really has. It has deepened my appreciation of the Doctor and has ensured that my UK mates are no longer exasperated with me when I drop in on the Series Two threads because now I know what they're talking about.

If you're watching Series Two or haven't yet, my current favourite episode is "The Girl in the Fireplace." I dare you to watch and not get a little bit sniffly. The Tenth Doctor--whose pic I was going to post--learns what it's like to fall in love with a human, but of course, also finds out what happens when you lose them. Makes me a bit sad even thinking about it, really.

Anyway, thanks again for reading! Love you all!

Monday, May 22, 2006

Like a suicide off a bridge....

I told you it wasn't all about him being the Ninth Doctor. Oh no. Watch the video--it's a fucking great song, by the way--and look at those amazing blue eyes.

Ticket for one to Salford, please.

Sunday, May 21, 2006

The worse a horror movie is...

...the more I tend to enjoy it. No foolin'.

When I got up this morning, I turned on TNT and discovered--much to my delight because I hated this movie when I saw in the theater six years ago--they were airing Dracula 2000. Naturally, I watched it. It's terrible. I mean, even as bad vampire movies go, this one stinks. I recall that the only reason I paid good money to experience that sort of suckage were three things.

1) It was filmed in New Orleans. I will watch any film regardless of awfulness if it features my old hometown and my favorite city in the world. (London and Tokyo are my other two favorite cities, in case you were curious.)

2) It has Jonny Lee Miller (Trainspotting, Hackers, Plunkett and MacLeane) in it. He gets to keep his accent. I get to keep drooling like an idiot.


Nathan "my future ex-husband" Fillion. He's a priest. And I feel all flushed.

Yeah, this is a shitty movie. But I'll take a shitty vampire movie over...well, almost anything else. Such is the love of crap. If it comes on cable, just sit down and watch it. You won't suffer the loss of too many brain cells.

One of the things that kept me late last night was that I started watching a special on string theory on PBS. String theory's one of those things that give me the creeps when I think about it too long. I fell asleep halfway through, but it's supposed to come on later this week. Some parts of it, that I remember, were very much like "Quantum Mechanics for Dummies." It made me laugh.

All right, now I'm off to see if anyone procured me a copy of "Rise of the Cybermen" from Series Two Doctor Who. I must feed the geek.

Saturday, May 20, 2006

I'm a re-TARDIS, pt. 12

And one day...he regenerates and is no more. *sniff*

The Ninth Doctor : Darkness Follows

It's funny; I really intended this to be a media blog--and it will be, it does have its moments--but I've noticed that it's become more of a Doctor Who blog. It's where I showcase my love for this venerable sci-fi classic and display my opinions (usually very positive ones). As I've stated previously, even I, a Yank, grew up on this show. I remember with a strange hazy fondness: Tom Baker with his multi-coloured scarf, giant spiders, Daleks, and yes, to a lesser degree, Sarah Jane Smith. It was oddly exhilarating and to me, a bit scary. (C'mon, that thing with the giant spiders? Gah, it makes me shudder still nearly two decades later.) I loved horror as a child and it still resonates with me into adulthood. I chose to write pretty and scary stories as a grown-up. Doctor Who doesn't quite qualify as straight horror, and I've always been rather disdainful of science fiction, but as with all things, it has its moments. When I learned the BBC was going to revive the series, I was anxious, and I don't mean in an ecstatic way. I was wary because it had been a long time since I'd encountered the Doctor and the TARDIS. I wondered if that sense of magic, wonder, of awe I'd experienced as a child could ever be made real again. And I was quite pleased to find that yes, it could be. It was. I mean, it does help that the Beeb can make it look less cheesy than it did when it originally aired all those years ago. Anyway, here are my reasons as to why I think this current series has impressed me so much:

1) The casting of such a reputable actor like Christopher Eccleston. I know that I am a bit enamoured of him, but I have been following his career for years. He makes an excellent Doctor: a bit mad, a bit sardonic, and a bit dismissive.

2) An obvious reverence for the show. It's quite apparent that Russell T. Davies and company love the whole mythos for Doctor Who and it's endearing...even if they stumble a bit sometimes.

3) The relationship between the Doctor and his current Companion, Rose Tyler. I find it very fascinating that out all of the Companions we have ever met or seen, Rose seems to be the one that is the Doctor's equal. And Billie Piper is growing on me, even if she does wear way too much mascara.

Listen, I know that here in the States, we're well into Series One; within a few weeks there will be more new Who episodes for nearly a year. So this entry deals with the Ninth Doctor; it'll barely touch on the Tenth One. This far into the series and I echo everything Jacob from TWoP has discovered. This Doctor we've come to know and love because of his quirks, his ruthlessness, and yet his unusual compassion, is the darkest Doctor I've seen yet. Nearly every episode has been touched with death. As an ordinary man who has been monitoring the Doctor's appearances throughout history puts it in the introductory episode, "Rose": "Everywhere he goes, death follows him." And it's true. This Ninth Doctor, this survivor of the last great Time War, doesn't just go swanning about in time. He seems to end up in situations that call his decision, and usually it's a very bloody one. The loneliness, the aching awareness that he is the last of his kind is very evident in the eyes of Christopher Eccleston. He adores Rose, even though she can frustrate him, but it's also a look of knowing no matter how much he cares for her, one day she won't be there anymore. I mean, look how many Companions there have been. And it's not because the Doctor has been fickle--though there have been a few instances of that--it's more because no matter what, a lot of them have been human and therefore have limited spans. The Tenth Doctor so eloquently states in the Series Two ep, "School Reunion," "You can spend the rest of your life with me, but I can't spend the rest of my life with you." (Yeah, I know said I wasn't gonna, but it summed it up well.) He will always be the Lonely God, the Last Gallifreyan. And sometimes this makes him mean, and sometimes this makes him melancholy. I have observed that throughout Series One to his regeneration, that the Ninth Doctor learns the meaning of sacrifice, of letting your burden go, of grace, and of course, love. He gives his life for Rose in the last episode. I don't think that's something he could've done if he hadn't learned to change and give a part of himself. After all the death we witness in the series, the most painful one is that of the Ninth Doctor. There's something...poetic about that.

Sorry, this entry is late. Apologies.

Friday, May 19, 2006

I'm a re-TARDIS, pt. 11

This photo still is from the Series 2 episode I watched today called "Tooth and Claw." Quick summary: Scottish highlands, murderous kung-fu monks, Queen Victoria, one very very large werewolf, conspiracy afoot, the Doctor and Rose save the day, and the beginning of Torchwood.

Love the glasses.

The Doctor dances and I'm at ease.

Once again, Jacob from Television Without Pity has done it again. Read his recap of "The Doctor Dances" episode from Series One of Doctor Who and tell me that if that doesn't tug at your heartstrings. In fact, allow me to reprint yet another of my favourite tidbits.

If you met the Doctor, you'd want to give him a hug. Possibly a kiss with tongue. But if you read his résumé? Madman. Warrior. Killer of peoples, of worlds, of heroes, and soldiers. A living genocide. Nine is about the choice: whom would you be? Then, what must you do?

Once again, I'm telling you--I'M TELLING ALL OF YOU--if you disregard this show as nothing more than visual masturbation for fanboys, sci-fi geeks, and the rest of the lot, you aren't anywhere near as clever as you think you are. Or will ever be, for that matter. The show is tied so strongly into the cultural landscape of the British, once again read Jacob's bloody marvelous recap, that it trangresses all boundaries. Where here in the States, the Doctor gets regulated to comic cons and small groups of geeks, over there, it is MAINSTREAM. People of all backgrounds come together in their love for this show. You have to remember, and we always forget this, we do: this is designed as a children's show. Every British child grew up with a Doctor from their childhood. Even I did and I'm a just an American girl. (Mine was the Fourth Doctor, Tom Baker.) The Doctor is important; he reminds us of errant heroism, of being clever without the aid of guns or weapons, and as Jacob has pointed out, the possibility of grace. Despite all the horrors and loneliness the Doctor endures, he's still here. He still believes in us "stupid apes." He's willing to help make the universe--wherever in time that may be--a better place. What's so wrong with that? If you truly love stories, believe in them, then what are you waiting for? It's time for you to rediscover your childhood. To believe in something like hope and sadness and what happens you're the last of your kind left.

It's on tonight at 9 PM on Sci Fi. I hope you'll be watching it.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

I'm a re-TARDIS, pt. 10

I'm currently seeking employment as a Time Lord's companion, so if anyone--anyone at all--sees a large blue police box appear anywhere, let me know. I'll be on my way.

Squeak, damn you! Squeak!

No explanation required.

Doing a geeky little dance

Next week, you won't be able to pry me out of the freakin' movie theater. I'm-a see this probably three times and you're all gonna come with me. And yes, when Hugh Jackman dons the tight tight leather X-Men outfit, I'll be all over the floor.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

What I want for my birthday this year

I know my birthday's not until November, but that should give you plenty of time to either find or build me K-9. I just watched the Sarah Jane Smith and K-9 episode from Series two (told you I downloaded them! Hah! Yay me!) and cried like a baby when Sarah Jane (she was one of the Doctor's Companions from waaay back) told him that she couldn't be with him anymore. It was brilliant and moving. Now get on with finding me a "shooty dog thing."

Don't tell anyone I told you, but...

...I sometimes like really cheesy pop music. I discovered this a year or so ago when I had to get up at, like, 5:30 every other morning. (Which I still have to do every now and again.) I didn't know that the only time MTV and VH-1 are legally allowed to show videos--MUSIC videos, no less--are between the hours of five a.m. and ten a.m. Color me shocked, surprised, and deep down, a little pleased.

And thus begins my education in the shameful knowledge of contemporary pop music.

You name it, I've probably hummed it and then feigned ignorance when you asked me what I was humming. I've sat down and watched the video and enjoyed it, all behind closed doors. And if I had the ability to download music, I probably would have so I could place it on mix CDs no one but me will ever hear.

So here are the top three audio guilty pleasures I keep enjoying this time out:

* "Move Along," All American Rejects --- I'm sorry but this shit is catchy as hell. I mean, it's really catchy. And it doesn't hurt that Tyson Ritter is one of the prettiest boys I have ever seen.

* "A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me," Fall Out Boy -- I admit I'm kind of getting tired of every single new emo-punk band out there trying to outdo themselves and others by making every single freakin' track title so wordy and deep.(Hawthorne Heights, I'm looking at you.) Still, this song is pretty fun. I like the video too; it has vampires...and choreographed dancing.

* "Confidence (For You I Will)," Teddy Geiger -- Just another example of a pretty boy with a guitar and a need to sing about unrequited love. Dude, you're seventeen, at that age all love is unrequited! Still, it's a sweet ballad.

Listen, if it's between these cheese-tastic gems and the Weather Channel, I'll take...wait, you know, I LIKE the Weather Channel. No excuses then, I guess.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

I'm a re-TARDIS, pt. 9

Two Doctors and just one little wide-eyed girl with adoration in her eyes. *sigh*

Best. Website. Ever.

I now know new words!!! F'r example, I have a total pash for Christopher Eccleston.

Look, I don't criticize you for what you get up to when you're bored.

I'm a re-TARDIS, pt. 8

The ever-pensive Tenth Doctor hiding those deliciously pointy teeth. He's Scottish, y'know.

British tabloids and guilty pleasures

I think everyone knows I'm an Anglophile. It's pretty damn obvious. My everyday speech is peppered with English terms; I prefer tea to coffee; I don't quite understand the beans on toast thing; and British television, especially, rocks my socks off. But you know what I really really love?

British tabloids. They are twice as clever and three times as nasty as American ones. The Sun, the Mirror, etc. Oh man, I could read these all day. But I won't because I do have things to do. But I will check; I will read my horoscope; I will applaud Kylie Minogue's courageous battle with breast cancer.

Anyway, tonight is one of my guilty television pleasures that while I'm confessing this to you, you cannot look at me like that. I am actually quite fond of Love Monkey with Tom Kavanaugh and Judy Greer. Let me tell you a secret: I am a sucker for any sort of movie or television show that discusses the ins and outs of love. Now I'm not a WB whore, but I do like Gilmore Girls because it's so very well-written and nicely done. And this series, while a bit heavy-handed at times, is also quite good. It's a lot to do with music and a lot to do with love. Again, total sucker. Love is a crazy complicated thing and I love it when some writer tries to sum it all up for us slackers. This is also a good time to tell you about other guilty pleasure, the one I only enjoy come Christmas time; I am a HUGE sucker for any film that involves the following three elements: 1)romantic comedy, 2)set during the holidays, and 3) involves an extraordinarily large British cast. No American movies need apply. Every year I watch Love Actually and every year I bum around my apartment in my whimsical pajamas with a bottle of wine and a cigarette, cursing the heavens. There are other ones, too, but best to ease you into this.

I just found this website off Boing Boing. It's some sort of weird German latex rubber gas mask fetish and when I saw it I thought immediately of the gas mask creatures from "The Empty Child" episode on Doctor Who. I find them vaguely titillating. But Germans scare me. Especially when you want to dress up like a refugee from the Blitz and do it.


These are what the things from "The Empty Child" look like. Except not all fetishy.

Monday, May 15, 2006

I'm a re-TARDIS, pt. 7

You do know that I heart him, right? That I want no other Brit before me? Or in me, for that matter.

Oh yeah, I made a crude sexual joke. Get over it.

When a sci-fi show becomes profound.

I've been reading the Doctor Who recaps on here and this last paragraph of the recap of the episode "The Empty Child" was pretty brilliant and sad. It definitely encapsulates the theme of this Ninth Doctor.

Here's what I think. I think the horrors of a people stay alive in its fears. I'm an American: I don't know from the Blitz, or gas masks -- not really. I know they don't live in my fears the way they do in British horror. I don't know why Clive Barker is scary because he's very, very British, and when he tries to tell American horror stories, he usually fails. I often wonder what Bret Easton Ellis feels like to people who aren't American, by the same token. Or Joyce Carol Oates. I know that Americans dream, when they dream nightmares, of strangers in the house. Wolves at the door. I know that the best zombie movies of the post-Thatcher era have come from Britain, and I couldn't tell you why. But this is a story about the invasion of a country in 1941 -- a country of the children of the war, trying to find the lioness inside the mouse, screaming for their mothers. And that is terrifying. I think the Doctor dreams of being alone, locked in a cellar or a glass house, with no way out. I think the Doctor dreams in Dalek voices. I think that this season (this Doctor) is about being an orphan -- about war taking everything away. Every single thing. And I think that the Doctor is about preserving that last spark of himself, that individuality, beyond extinction. Saving himself by saving the world, just like Peter Tyler. So I think, by any stretch, he's being a champ here, because all he wants to do is love that child, that orphan, and, by doing so, redeem himself. Which is hard to do when the person you're looking to protect, whether it's in the Blitz or 2012 Utah or the Victorian era, turns out to be the thing you're most afraid of, because you can't run from your mistakes. You'll always get your hand bitten by the dog you abused. And I think that if this week is a basic horror story, then next week is a story of wonder, of grace -- which is what the Doctor most deserves. This is a show about earning that grace, and the show always goes the distance to do that, if nothing else. And I have this feeling that, next week, he'll maybe get to dance.

Maybe you non-Who folks will finally get that this show isn't all about my obsession with Christopher Eccleston. It's about some damn fine storylines and a whole lotta heartbreak. So if you haven't watched it, please...try to. It's just amazing fucking telly.

I'm a re-TARDIS, pt. 6

You're all worried for my mental health, aren't you? Aw, but he's so pretty!!!!

I'm a re-TARDIS, pt. 5

He's so important. So very very important. He's the expert. He's brilliant.

I Heart Cartoons.

I love cartoons.

Though it may be considered juvenile, asinine, immature, I tell you this: shut up. I love cartoons. Cartoons are the stabilizing force in my delirious world of insomnia.

I love this cartoon very much. I want to be a mad scientist who does insane genetic tampering with ponies. Y'know, ponies that can make my enemies' heads explode with a single "neigh."

I'm sorry. Did I say that out loud?

One day I will meet a nice man who--while being preferably British or such like--will like cartoons as much as I do. When I don't have to explain the references.

Oh, and thanks to the anonymous English poster who told me what "prang" meant and the type of the UK hip-hop I was referring to.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

So much time and only one Time Lord.

Would you believe I'm out of town and am still scavenging pics of the Ninth Doctor? This means I now frequent at least three different places dedicated to the show. There's my beloved mates on Barbelith, the super snarky recaps on Television Without Pity, and they have a great FAQ for the show by the way, and of course, the airer of the episodes in the States, the Sci Fi Channel. But I only to go that site to check the schedule and download pics that I can't find on the BBC's webpage for the show. (I bet you can only imagine how many pictures of Eccleston I have. Go on. Name a number. I bet you're wrong.)

Ask me anything at all about this current series. I bet I can even answer questions about series two as well.

I'm a re-TARDIS, pt. 4

Holy shit. David Tennant in a tux.

I've got some episodes to download now, if you'll excuse me.

Saturday, May 13, 2006

British hip-hop makes me hot.

The best thing about taking a small roadtrip is getting to listen to CDs you've been meaning to get around to, but haven't for some reason or another. And it's even better when it's a CD you nicked from Aurora Coffee.

Nothing sounds as good as stolen music, people. It's like mother's milk. Anyway, on route to South Carolina, I blasted The Streets' newest CD, The Hardest Way to Make An Easy Living. It's freaking brilliant. I've already forgotten what they call this type of hip-hop in the UK--you know, Dizzee Rascal and Lady Sov and all that--but to me, it's much more interesting than American hip-hop. (Is it the accent thing? I guess.) Mike Skinner was just a boy from the council flats and this CD details his ascent and subsequent fall. The only thing I need clarified for me is this piece of Brit drug slang: what exactly is "prang"? From I can gather it sounds like coke or meth. You English people, help me out.

So the new Streets' album is my pick o' the week. It's tight, well-written, and if you're an Anglophile like me, you probably still won't understand half of what he's saying.

Last night: "The Doctor Dances" episode of Doctor Who. Captain Jack coming on all tarty to both the Doctor and Rose. The Doctor displaying his dance moves. And being cross with weird nanogenetic creatures. *sigh* Continuing to win his way into my heart.....

Friday, May 12, 2006

I'm a re-TARDIS, Pt. 3

You people have a long road ahead of you. You know that, don't you?

Television is making my brains fall out

It really is, people.

I'm not saying I watch a lot of it, but what I do watch, I watch obsessively. (Again, Doctor Who, anyone?)

I went back to one of my old mainstays--CSI--for the two-part season finale last night. For those of you who don't know, or don't care, CSI appears to be about forensic science but in actuality, is more like rampant sex and gore for the average American viewer. If they can dress it up under the pretense that's about "the science", then the FCC will leave them the hell alone, I guess. Nonetheless, it's a good show and it features some of the most ridiculously beautiful people you have ever seen. To me, that right there is a suspension of disbelief. Men who are damn-near model pretty do NOT work in crime labs. I don't care what you say. Well, I've been behind this season, but the good thing about this show is that the stories are fairly self-contained and do not require much in the way of backstory. So I watched. I made comments--mostly ones of a lascivious nature towards Gary Dourdan. I wasn't entirely too surprised at the ending--Brass gets shot, the CSI team is in shock--because it wouldn't this show if one of the team didn't get somehow royally screwed in some way. Remember Nick from last year? Poor bastard can't even get through the new season without crying like a bitch. But I go on...

Heh. I just found out that production for Fantastic Four 2 goes under way in August. You know what this means! Well, hello, Mr. Fantastic.

I'm trying to figure out where along the line I became boy crazy. It certainly seems like it, yes?

I have made a list of the scariest televisions shows on the air right now. You can agree or disagree with me (and not surprisingly, a majority of them are on MTV):

* Date My Mom -- Nothing can ever EVER compare to this insanity. I am horrified.

* Parental Control -- Because every relationship I had would have been so much better if
I let my folks chose. *shudder*

* Deal or No Deal -- Well, at least Howie Mandel's getting work. Germophobe has-been.

There are others but I don't feel like exposing how much crap I let myself endure on a weekly basis.

And just before you think you'll get away from this entry without a Doctor Who reference....may I present to you a recipe for the Sonic Screwdriver! (Courtesy of the Whooligans on Barbelith.)

20 ml gin
20 ml vodka
20 ml white rum
20 ml Cointreau
20 ml blue Curacao

Build in a highball glass, top with Sprite/7-up. Wait for large blue police box to appear.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

I'm a re-TARDIS, pt. 2.

And this is my favorite Doctor. I aim to make Christopher Eccleston my future husband. I'll cheer him on through his participation in marathons, I'll watch Man U games with him, and I will listen to the beating of his beautiful heart in the dead of night.

I realize this is dead embarrassing, but really, you have no idea how much I want an Englishman.

Or a Welshman. Or a Scotsman. Or a Irishman.

I'm a re-TARDIS.

You'll learn quite quickly that I am obsessed with Doctor Who. You'll get pics of my favorite Doctor, but until then, here's the newest Doctor.

I freakin' love that suit.

And when David Tennant smiles, his teeth are all pointy. They look deliciously sharp.

Well, here we are.

At the advice of my favorite Scientologist, I have started a proper blog. Now I'll just as much time to kill as everyone else.

Until I get this up and running, please do check out the current blog:

Get ready for the madness, baby!