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I am watching the XF episode "Kill Switch", I'm alone in the house, it's nearly midnight, and err. I had to stop. I'm scared. Thankfully VH1 is currently playing "Saturday Night" by Whigfield, so I'm not hiding under the bed just yet.
(Oh, come on. You know the song. "Saturday night, and I like the way you move?" Terrible, terrible video, insanely catchy tune? Wiki tells me it was released in 1994, which makes sense as it's one of the earliest songs I can remember being really popular when I was in primary school. There was even a dance, which I failed spectacularly to master. Ten years later![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hathy_col attempted to teach me the Macarena, with similarly lacklustre results. ("Hand, hand, hip, hip, arse, arse, oh my GOD you're doing it wrong now jump! No, to your right!") Needless to say, bad things cannot happen when "Saturday Night" still exists.)
But yes, "Kill Switch" equals scary. How can this not be construed as scary? The fingernails, OMG! So I am not watching that, but deliberately not watching it, so my not watching it is in a different category from all the other things I am not doing right now, for example sleeping, working, eating chilli sauce, smoking pot, climbing the Sydney Harbour Bridge, etc., etc. I should be doing more of one of those things, and I shall leave the gentle reader to guess which one it is. I meant to spend some of tonight writing the feminism essay that I have not started yet - oh dear - but procrastination rules me. I will have to do something about it fairly soon. I'm beginning to worry about it. Yes. Never mind.
Um. I have been watching a hell of a lot of television this week. On Tuesday, I went to seeamchau, and it was wonderful fun. Despite grim weather and hideously late trains, I got to Watford at some point mid-afternoon and we had a lovely time. Am-Chau's family are marvellous people who think nothing of explaining two millennia of religious history over the dinner table, happily join in long debates as to how anyone with mentally competent parents acquires the first name "Fox" and keep carnivorous plants in the study. Best of all, not a one of them set off any of my crazy buttons. I was happily, blissfully, fannishly sane for two whole days, and yes, we watched a lot of TV.
The logic behind this is very simple.amchau and I met in a television fandom. We have not watched television together in four years of knowing each other. (I have a vague memory of watching the SG-1 episode "Abyss" at a con once, but I'm not sure she was there or that I haven't imagined the event in question.) Consequently, we watched the following, with episode list nabbed from her:
( M*A*S*H, the X-Files, and The West Wing, with half-coherent commentary, and a little about someone who liked Father Mulcahy a lot )
And yes, that was the end of the TV-watching and oh, my, this is the longest post ever. Well, I can tell that by the fact it's taken me two hours to write. (And I just spelled that as "wright". I must be getting tired.) In addition to that, we also took more than one long walk through Watford, discussing its ethnic diversity and biodiversity, and also fannish history and my incredibly geeky interest in disused Underground train stations, and also religion and the importance of salad. It was a fun trip, and much too short.amchau walked with me up to the station, and we got to bickering over who had to come and visit the other first, and the ticket-inspector guy, apparently amused by proceedings, pushed her through the barriers without a ticket and said we had to sort out who was visiting who before coming back out. It feels like longer ago than Wednesday, actually.
And now I shall go back to watching "Kill Switch" - it's now a quarter to three - but before I go, the reason I made this entry, finally. It is, sadly, another tale of my tragic love life. But I met a guy today. He's nice. He's really nice. He's sweet, and started up conversations for no reason at all, and made me endless cups of coffee, and I sort of thought maybe he might be flirting with me a little bit.
Er. Once again. He's GAY. That makes, oh, the third one this year? My mother wanted to know if I'm doing it on purpose. Um. No.
Sigh.
[1] When you're referring to the X-files within the fictional context of the show, is "files" capitalised? This is the sort of thing that keeps me up at night.
[2] Yeah, kill me now.
(Oh, come on. You know the song. "Saturday night, and I like the way you move?" Terrible, terrible video, insanely catchy tune? Wiki tells me it was released in 1994, which makes sense as it's one of the earliest songs I can remember being really popular when I was in primary school. There was even a dance, which I failed spectacularly to master. Ten years later
hathy_col attempted to teach me the Macarena, with similarly lacklustre results. ("Hand, hand, hip, hip, arse, arse, oh my GOD you're doing it wrong now jump! No, to your right!") Needless to say, bad things cannot happen when "Saturday Night" still exists.)But yes, "Kill Switch" equals scary. How can this not be construed as scary? The fingernails, OMG! So I am not watching that, but deliberately not watching it, so my not watching it is in a different category from all the other things I am not doing right now, for example sleeping, working, eating chilli sauce, smoking pot, climbing the Sydney Harbour Bridge, etc., etc. I should be doing more of one of those things, and I shall leave the gentle reader to guess which one it is. I meant to spend some of tonight writing the feminism essay that I have not started yet - oh dear - but procrastination rules me. I will have to do something about it fairly soon. I'm beginning to worry about it. Yes. Never mind.
Um. I have been watching a hell of a lot of television this week. On Tuesday, I went to see
amchau, and it was wonderful fun. Despite grim weather and hideously late trains, I got to Watford at some point mid-afternoon and we had a lovely time. Am-Chau's family are marvellous people who think nothing of explaining two millennia of religious history over the dinner table, happily join in long debates as to how anyone with mentally competent parents acquires the first name "Fox" and keep carnivorous plants in the study. Best of all, not a one of them set off any of my crazy buttons. I was happily, blissfully, fannishly sane for two whole days, and yes, we watched a lot of TV.The logic behind this is very simple.
amchau and I met in a television fandom. We have not watched television together in four years of knowing each other. (I have a vague memory of watching the SG-1 episode "Abyss" at a con once, but I'm not sure she was there or that I haven't imagined the event in question.) Consequently, we watched the following, with episode list nabbed from her:( M*A*S*H, the X-Files, and The West Wing, with half-coherent commentary, and a little about someone who liked Father Mulcahy a lot )
And yes, that was the end of the TV-watching and oh, my, this is the longest post ever. Well, I can tell that by the fact it's taken me two hours to write. (And I just spelled that as "wright". I must be getting tired.) In addition to that, we also took more than one long walk through Watford, discussing its ethnic diversity and biodiversity, and also fannish history and my incredibly geeky interest in disused Underground train stations, and also religion and the importance of salad. It was a fun trip, and much too short.
amchau walked with me up to the station, and we got to bickering over who had to come and visit the other first, and the ticket-inspector guy, apparently amused by proceedings, pushed her through the barriers without a ticket and said we had to sort out who was visiting who before coming back out. It feels like longer ago than Wednesday, actually.And now I shall go back to watching "Kill Switch" - it's now a quarter to three - but before I go, the reason I made this entry, finally. It is, sadly, another tale of my tragic love life. But I met a guy today. He's nice. He's really nice. He's sweet, and started up conversations for no reason at all, and made me endless cups of coffee, and I sort of thought maybe he might be flirting with me a little bit.
Er. Once again. He's GAY. That makes, oh, the third one this year? My mother wanted to know if I'm doing it on purpose. Um. No.
Sigh.
[1] When you're referring to the X-files within the fictional context of the show, is "files" capitalised? This is the sort of thing that keeps me up at night.
[2] Yeah, kill me now.
