things that will always remind me of...summer 2007 (aka the summer of Kate)

- The summer of 06/07 started innocently enough:

- It started with naked lesbians. Mmm, I love me some photoshopped-Helena-head.

- Also, I love me some Shane. This is Shane, in case you, for some incredibly weird reason, don't know. Played by the enigmatic, alluring, incredibly attractive Kate Moennig:

- So. Damn. Hot.

- She makes me want to wear aviators and fedoras, okay? She makes skinny, androgynous, white girl look sexy. She made Justin Bieber happen!
(That last part is not entirely true - half the lesbians of this world made Justin Bieber, or at least his hair, happen. And his face. And his fashion. Yeah, they totally made him happen.)

- She made me start watching dumb, pretty people and their dumb, pretty problems. All. Eight. Episodes. Oh, the beauty...oh, the brainlessness...

- Which, in turn, led me to the prettiest of them all. There is so much *guh* with these two. No words can describe what these young, beautiful, sexually-ambiguous side story characters did for me and more than half the fandom.

- Half-nakedness helps too. Ian and Kate, I tip my fedora to you.

- But mostly, I tip it to Kate. Thanks to summer 2007, for allowing her to pop up on my radar and spurn my ongoing admiration.

things that will always remind me of...summer 2009

- Hot, sticky January nights making it impossible to sleep...the discovery of random season 3 South of Nowhere episodes on my hard drive....even though I hadn't finished season 1...ever...insomnia cured!

- Sleep vs. fatigue...sleep vs. hunger...hunger vs. hunger...HUNGER vs. HUNGERRRRRRRRRR.

- A most perfect summer.

List of Things I May Never Get To Do. Ever.

1. Work at the AO in some capacity. Any capacity that allows me to have access to players. Preferably as umpire, so I can deduct points from people I hate. Or driver, even though I'm pretty sure I'd get them lost in my own city. Meh, I'm not too proud to be players' dining room server. I WILL SERVE THEM FOOD, DAMNIT.

2. Become a world-famous tennis player. Those dreams shattered in Year 8 PE.

3. Find a piano teacher who is willing to teach my Grade 1 arse so that I can play something other than elementary crap. They all hated me when I was younger - I've only become much worse since.

4. Know how to cook several dishes at the drop of a (chef's) hat. Without recipes. Or, be able to invent recipes at a moment's notice and not kill everyone at the table.

5. Invent a gadget that is amazingly useful and instantly popular - market, mass-produce, millionaire!

6. Wake up to find that 9 years of French study has suddenly returned to my noggin, ready to use. Also, discover that 0 years of Spanish study is not a problem - yo hablo español tan fluido como locales. Es como magia!

7. Write a novel/screenplay. I'll settle for writing a novel that becomes a screenplay. The get-rich-and-famous part is implied.

8. Be discovered as the next Broadway star while singing a Wicked number to myself on the streets (the dancing is negligible, obviously). That, or become homeless and become a theatre squatter - povo, Oz-style!

9. Live in a hotel. More Eloise than Oliver Trask though. And preferably, I'd own the shit out of that building too.

10. Meet Kate Moennig. The become-her-best-friend-and-confidante-and-shopping-partner part is implied.

'Hello, hello; I take you on a trip...'

I dreamed a dream that Rafa died,
On RLA where he was playing,
I dreamed that I sat down and cried,
For my tickets now a-wasting

Though he was young and living well,
That heart attack meant life had ended,
I watched on YouTube as he fell,
Not knees this time to be mended

My AO dreams came apart,
Mes billets are torn asunder,
Then the GOAT he called me up,
And hired me to take his ba.....bies....

And so I turned up to MP,
With twins in hand and guest pass holder,
But still the courts they seemed to be,
Somehow haunted and much colder

I had a dream my January,
Was a complete and total nightmare,
Nadal won't play anymore,
And now I long for days before.


Another delirious drug-addled dream courtesy of my please-go-away-now illness?

At Long, Long Last Receive Your Due

My long overdue fedora is finally mine. I HAVE A FEDORA!!! I feel so Kate Moennig!!!1!!!!!1!!

Watching Annie on Fox News

I heart the Internetz. So, here I am, at 12.52am Melbourne, rain finally breaking the heat spell, watching frickin' Fox News on the net for no real good reason except that I can.

And now I want to go spend a holiday season in the United States. With snow and Thanksgiving.

Also, I love the foreign familiarity of their ads - somehow, I know what a Publix is because of exposure to their culture since forever, but I've never really seen one. Until now.

Dude...they totally just had an ad for Cymbalta. I think that's not allowed here. Like, legally. And they listed AE's and interactions and contraindications too. Like, whoa. That's an ad, man. During breakfast TV. Depressing.

Random Recap - The Russell Girl aka When Peasant Smocks Attack

Defining hallmarks (do u c what I did thar?) of TV movies:

- terrible acting/don't-give-a-fuck acting/trying-so-hard-to-make-this-work acting
- familiar faces who are known for better projects appearing possibly for the sake of a paycheck
- plot involving something horrible happening to a female character, often the protagonist
- cheap-looking graphics, titles, sets, actors, etc.
- general apathy from everyone all 'round, viewer included

So, while waiting for Amber Tamblyn to debut on House and possibly make me more interested in watching, I perused her IMDb profile as a means to procrastinate from study (what else is new?) and decided to check out The Russell Girl. Despite its listing as a TV movie, I selectively didn't read that part and in my mind, I somehow decided it was an independent feature that would be very charming in a big-city-girl-returns-to-small-home-town-rediscovers-life kind of way. Yeah, I didn't read the plot either, just judged it straight from its cover:

Oh...dis gonna be goooooood.

Because of formatting issues, the recap resides elsewhere, so follow me.

Baaack...For Now

Dear Blog,

Did you miss me? I missed you. No, really, I did. Your inviting blank pages, your familiar tabs, your promises of great things to come from our pairing. Well, that was a bit of a bust, wasn't it? Let's start over. You try to hold onto my attention and I'll try not to forget you once you're out of sight. Deal? Awesome. I love you.

That Girl

That Girl's List of Not-So-Blind-Items, feat. The Bottom of Melbourne's Barrel

1. Reality TV muppet; questionable cooking ability; spawn of a hobbit and Peter Pettigrew; seen schlepping around suburbs and eating a pie.

2. Born to fail and flail in shadows of paternal on-field prowess and comely sports-commentating; can't kick over a jam tin; seen being inordinately interested in continental rolls.

3. Wife of/mother of/mother-in-law of/jewel-theft victim; Attitude! Y'all better recognise, bitch!; BERT LIKES TO WEAR CHANEL TOO, DID YOU KNOW?; seen pushing prams, people's patience, and possibly queues.

4. Little, smarmy man-troll; unidentified source of fame because Australia obviously doesn't have talent; little; seen wearing loud Hawaiian shirts at dinner, acting smarmy, and being little.

5. Whoring fawn of hawks; formerly dread-locked; seen refusing to walk my way (can't imagine why).

6. Small-screen familiar, onstage newb (and possibly noob); nurse-turned-police officer; seen with bitchface that rivalled yours truly.

7. F-lister aka nobody; 5-second reality TV dance fame; part of the greatest musical of my life, seriously; seen buying [OMITTED], asking for [OMITTED], walking around.

8. Nightly news familiar; very brown...Brown; seen disappointing me by being real-life fail.

9. Whoring fawn no. 2 (why so infestation?); PUNCH HIM HARDER NEXT TIME, OKAY PADDY?; seen trying to be recognised for do-gooding.

10. Sister of; ex-Mrs. 'Christian Troy'; would like you to know she loves her vibrator; seen buying Grown products with a very tight face.

Top 10 Things I Miss Right Now

10. Being at the Regent to see Wicked. And to experience its awesome score. The one that gave me swirly feelings in my stomach area when I heard it.

9. ER. Fuckin' ruin my life and end it, why don't you? Stupid executive television network demographic expiry date bullshit.

8. Internet usage allowance.

7. Priceline. I mean, Priceline co-workers. Certain Priceline co-workers. The ones who don't shit me by exisiting, who were cordial from the get-go, who were always pleasant to work with, who totally ruined me for all future co-workers.

6. Uzu. Katsu curry. "Next prease?"

5. Money. TWO monthly concession tickets?! TWO?!? WHAT THE FLIPPITY-FUCK?! Am I on drugs?

4. The tennis. My camera in Nadal's face. IN. HIS. FACE. THISCLOSE. "Touch, okay?"

3. Ray and Neela. Being together. Neela being hott. Ray being...not quite.

2. Nothing to obsess about. I feel...incomplete.

1. Wicked. Because Sydney sucks cock and doesn't deserve to host my beloved baby. And my heart is withering just thinking about how that wretched city is tainting it. BRB SHAKING AND CRYING.

YouTube - Procrastination's Best Friend

Instead of studying for exams, sleeping so you can study for exams, or going to lectures so you can takes notes to study for exams, YouTube gives you alternative time-fillers. The annoying thing though, is that they give rise to certain phrases you then find yourself repeating ad nauseam, much to your own frustration. Behold, a few current rotations in my vocab:

Clare Werbeloff may be a fuckin' moron, but I can't stop saying "Chk-Chk-Boom!"

I also can't stop saying "OWWW! Char-lie!", whenever the most remote of opportunities for pain exclaimations arise.

"Shut your dirty whore mouth, player player!" 'Nuff said.

Way too many quotables.

"...like, such as." It's because some US Americans don't, have, maps.

Not quite a line to quote, but just his entire presence throughout:"Large fries."

Three Rivers: Two Birds with the One Show

In news that greatly thrills me, US network CBS have picked up Three Rivers as part of their '09/10 TV schedule. As far as I know, Three Rivers revolves around transplant surgeons, donors and recipients. As far as I care, Three Rivers promises to combine very important elements from two of my religiously-viewed and recently farewelled shows (ER, The L Word): 'good' medical drama, and Kate Moennig. It can only help that ER's Justina Machado (aka Claudia Diaz, of 'Archie Morris + Claudia Diaz = red-haired, olive-skinned babiez!' fame) is also onboard, although if the stars had aligned a little more, oh, the possibilities...Parminder and Kate...on the same show...

The hotness would cause screens to combust. Except for the fact that I am devoted to the idea of Neela belonging only to the realm of the Roomies. Doesn't mean she can't share the screen with everyone's favourite androgynous whore though, I suppose.

Although there's a high chance Three Rivers won't last the distance and this time next year, CBS will be claiming it a bad memory, but until such a time arrives, I'm just hanging out to catch a glimpse of Doctor Shane - while not highly believable, the notion is at least highly amusing. LOLZ!

End of an ERa, Part 1: How the Roomies Were Cheated

This is a belated post about the end of the Roomies' story on the now-defunct ER (*WEEP*).

Every blind man and his dog in the ER fandom knew that Ray would be making a second appearance before the final season was through - how could we have missed all the glinting anvils raining down onto Neela's head, and thereby our heads? Never mind that AussieDoc kind of grew on me by mid-season (bad, TG!), Ray was the one who let Neela know he was "thinking about [her]". Never mind that AussieDoc actually became her boyfriend, Ray was the one who kept calling to talk to her in her dreams. Never mind that AussieDoc wanted to take her away to Venice, Ray was the one who sent her a Valentine's Day CD that served as very effective montage music for all the other characters too. Never mind that AussieDoc wanted to end every conversation in sex, Ray was the fabulously-timed phone call that sent AussieDoc right out the door.

What with all these obvious signs pointing to Dr. McLegless appearing and sweeping Neela off to go get married and start having pretty little babies, it came as major disappointment when the real storyline went down.

And so it is, My Disappointment In Pictures:

Neela's farewell episode, two before the series came to an end, started off with some lovely DubenkoNeela interaction. Mmm, Dubenko...I would've been right on board with some Deela couple-dom.

Look how sad he is to lose her to another hospital...and so he should be.

Then we get some AussieDoc running to catch her at the airport, like some sappy romantic comedy plotline, so that they may sit down and consume alcohol and talk out their break-up.

Breela. With Ray symbolically in the middle.

Some more Breela bonding. No Ray as of yet.

Really, did we need so much? And where is Ray?

Then, Dr. Andrew "Weasel" Wade came back after being AWOL for a bajillion episodes, so that gave me some much needed relief from the Breela bonding.

Ahh...Weasel...I heart thee.

Back to The Breela Break-up Bonding That Won't End. Go bond with Ray, Neela! Listen to me!

Neela kicks arse one last time in the County OR, denying Weasel of his first surgery. Dubenko looks on with pride. Ray is still nowhere to be found.

And then, we are subjected to the horrifying conclusion of Breela, where they think it's appropriate to mack on each other as a final farewell gesture. Go away Brenner! GO AWAY! Come save her, Ray!

This kiss will hurt ten times more by the episode's conclusion, when all the Reela fans realise how fuckin' gypped we were/are/always will be.

Frank throws Neela a surprise farewell party, in the most un-PC manner possible, as Frank can always be counted upon to be. At said farewell party, where they present Neela with Bollywood dancers and a hideous bright orange saffron cake, her co-workers wax lyrical about Neela's awesomeness. Weasel chimes in endearingly that Neela taught him, "like, everything!"

Oh, Weasel. You are so charmingly earnest. Don't you remember how Neela kind of hated you and refused to teach you because you got her arse sued by a dead patient's family, because you failed to treat said patient properly at the time, only you took it upon yourself to be earnest with the family and told them it was your fault and as you are only an intern, your supervisor Neela had to take the fall? Remember the stink eye she practically tried to kill you with?!

Dubenko sombers the party when he enters, bearing a gift: Neela's locker nameplate.

Dubenko is my knight in shining labcoat.

Haleh takes Neela to The Mysteriously-Located Wall of Names, where she also took Abby earlier this season. It's all really sad and weepy, because we get all these flashbacks of Neela through the years...on her first day, being greeted in un-PC fashion by Frank...with her late husband, Gallant...with the late Pratt...being asked by Abby to be a maid of honour...and...and...no Ray. The Barnett nameplate on the wall is totally ignored. I'm so broken up inside.

A 'moment' with Haleh, brought to us by ER-hates-Ray scriptwriters.

Neela plops her nameplate onto the Wall, nowhere near her dead husband's name, nor Abby's or Pratt's, nor Ray's. But the latter was to be expected by now. I'm surprised they even went to the trouble of making a nameplate for the character to stick on the Wall at all.

Then, she's off. She gets stuck at the airport. We're not supposed to know where's she headed for her new job. Brenner comes to do their hour-long bonding (the episode skips around in time). And just as she's about to board, she gets a phonecall...

Abby!

Abby's all, 'get on the plane and go find Ray!' but not so explicitly, because it's still meant to be a secret to the audience, even though we saw Shane West's name at the beginning of the episode. However, at this 3/4 mark and no sign of Gimpy McLegless, the great Reela hope starts to plummet.

Then we're subjected to tedious filler, in which Neela is on a plane, Neela gets off that plane...

...Neela goes driving wherever it was that her plane landed...

...thank God for Dubenko and Weasel. Not so much Brenner.

Dubenko appears to take Weasel under his wing as his new surgical protegé, which is really sweet and although I suspect Weasel will be no Neela, at least Dubenko has someone to teach and distract himself with, so that he won't be too miserable about his real protegé gone away and all. Brenner leers on, probably wondering if he too can take Weasel on as a Neela replacement. Ew. Weasel, don't do it!

Neela, wasting more screen time.

Neela stares at a hip elderly gentleman, rocking out in the elevator. He's received more screen time than Ray thus far.

At last, Neela has wasted so much time that there is no choice but to bring Ray in. We're down to the last two or so minutes of the episode, if you can fuckin' believe it, by the time she gets to the damn physiotherapy room and locates Ray, where he's working with other McGimpies.

What all the Reela fans have waited and waited and waited some more for ends up being...this:

Countdown to Sob City, begins now.

Neela just does googly eyes at him, while he laughs to himself, probably thinking about how much he got paid to do one minute's worth of acting. This is fuckin' arse, peoples.

Ray gimps over to her, sloooooowly, so as to waste even more time not actually interacting with Neela. Fuck. This. Seriously. I am more than broken now. "Finally," says Ray. Oh, really? Fuckin' really?! Finally?! Are they being IRONIC?!?!?! OH, HARDY-HAR-HAR, WRITERS! I HATE YOU ALL!

Neela looks cross-eyed. I wish I could say it was dazed-eye with love, but I really can't even be sure of that anymore. Who says they even like each other at this point?

"You really here?"

No, Ray. She's a fuckin' hologram. And I wouldn't be surprised if that's what it turned out like, a cruel, evil dream to twist the knife deeper into our Reela-loving hearts.

"Yeah. I really am." Fade to black.

And that? Was it. THAT WAS IT. Three lines. Two minutes. No hug. No kiss. No touching. NOTHING.

FUCK YOU, WRITERS! FUCK YOU, REELA! FUCK YOU, ER! FUCK YOU VERY VERY MUCH!

No One Mourns the Wicked...Except Me

I'm obsessed. I'm crazymadpsycho. I need to livebreathedream this story. I can't even begin to explain my love for StageElphaba, let alone for BookElphaba. Oh...BookElphaba...your poor tragic creature. I loved you from the moment you uttered "horrors" and then kept repeating it to freak everyone out.

Today, I almost, almost, asked the Oz Boutique assistant how she got her job. The words were on the tip of my tongue and I was about to be outed as a dire, dire, tragique. Then, out of nowhere, common sense (I don't know whose, but thank-you nonetheless) came flying out and wonked me over the head - duh, she probably works for the Regent Theatre and is therefore not actually affiliated with the production. Then I almost, almost, asked her how I'd go about getting a job at the Regent.

Suffice to say, I made a hasty exit as the atmosphere of the place is obviously damaging to my mental capacity. Only I wound up wandering blindly up Flinders Lane with no intention of seeking autographs or photos at stage door. You know how you get someplace and you don't actually want to be there, but there are people who are watching you and so you don't leave just because you don't want them to watch you leaving approximately ten seconds after you arrive? No? That's just me? Alrighty then...

It was something very much akin to embarrassment that sealed the deal and resulted in my depature. I was actually going to follow Lucy down the street but it seemed a bit creepy, what with the people standing around to witness me stalking after her, including Madame Morrible, and she's just effin' scary. Lesson of the day: be prepared to actually want something from the actors if you're going to skulk around stage door with the pubescents.

And finally...front row seating is quite awesome in that you can see practically everything, including everything on the actors' faces, but it does have some downfalls:

• you may be distracted because you can see practically everything and then it becomes a game as to what you can see - where are their microphones? What is that on their foreheads? Is it their microphones? Why does Glinda get to wear pink underwear to match her pink dress while everyone else just has to make do with plain old black, no matter what colour their costume is?
• no one tells you that you're in prime position for dry smoke inhalation
• no one tells you that the ensemble is going to hurl bits of streamer at you
• you will not be able to see the big dragon overhead without craning your neck
• you will also not be able to see the two flying monkeys who spaz out above the A reserve seats
• you will invariably find yourself watching the conductor at work instead of what's onstage
• you will also invariably find yourself craning to peer within the wings when you catch a glimpse of actors waiting for their cue, and this will somewhat ruin it for you
• you may strain your eyes looking for Elphaba's curtain-platform during Defying Gravity. Then you will miss half the song trying to ignore the obvious stage mechanisms of the entire affair
• actors will look directly at you. Multiple times. And it is unnerving to have "Kill the Witch!" screamed at you from two metres away
• you may be seated next to two cougars who think it's alright to wonder aloud if Millsy is too young to sex up during the show. You'll then be subjected to their catcalls for him at curtain call. This last point may apply even if you're not seated front row

Of course, nothing here will deter me from trying to reach my goal number of viewings before the show closes its Melbourne season. What can I say? "I'm beautifully tragic!"

That 'Guess the Song' Game That Everyone Does

So, I saw this over at Recap That! while I was perusing recapping blogs and I thought I'd give it a go. Dolly, this is for YOU and the sadness over my lack of blogging. Big love!

Rules:
Step 1: Put your music player on shuffle.
Step 2: Post the first line from the first 30 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing.
Step 3: Strike through the songs when someone guesses both artist and track correctly.
Step 4: Looking them up on Google or any other search engine is CHEATING!
Step 5: If you like the game post your own.

1. I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation, you're living in the past it's a new generation
2. This world, this world is cold, but you don't, you don't have to go
3. I look at the sunrise, I look at it earn, I look into your eyes, don't know where to turn
4. Broken arrows along the shore, seems you intended to come back for more
5. There is a wall that runs right through me, just like the city, I will never be joined
6. So you say I'm too quiet, holding things up in my head
7. You say yes, I say no, you say stop, I say go go go
8. Now I'm in a band, people try to make me do things, kiss arses, and pay tribute
9. I'm so tired my feet don't touch the ground, I love the sky so much, I just fall straight down
10. Is that someone you used to date? Why is she hanging around here, what's her story?
11. Me and all my friends, we're all misunderstood, they say we stand for nothing and there's no way we ever could
12. Getting too busy to make amends, I should try to make it right
13. All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown), and the sky is grey (and the sky is grey)
14. Scold me, that's all you've got to say, coldly hurt me and turn away
15. I hate myself today, I don’t know what’s happening to me, I hate my face today, I think I look so shitty
16. The name on everybody's lips is gonna be, Roxie, the lady raking in the chips is gonna be, Roxie
17. From an empty room on the first floor, as the cars pass by the liquor store, I deconstruct my thoughts at this piano
18. Alright, so this is a song about anyone, it could be anyone, you're just doing your own thing and someone comes out of the blue, they're like,"Alright, what ya saying, yeah can I take your digits?" and you're like, "No, not in a million years, you're nasty, please leave me alone."
19. I'll seek you out, flay you alive, one more word and you won't survive
20. I was a quick wet boy, diving too deep for coins, all of your street light eyes, wide on my plastic toys
21. Well I heard there was a secret chord, that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do ya?
22. I spend the afternoon in cars, I sit in traffic jams for hours, don't push me I am not okay
23. We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when, although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend
24. I'm freakin' you baby, drivin' you crazy, I'm freakin' you baby, drivin' you crazy
25. I want to live, where soul meets body, and let the sun, wrap its arms around me
26. She was more like a beauty queen, from a movie scene, I said don't mind but what do you mean I am the one
27. I heard you on the wireless back in fifty-two, lying awake intent at tuning in on you
28. Little boy on my telephone, you've been away now you wanna come home
29. I've had a little bit too much, all of the people start to rush (start to rush by)
30. I am colorblind, coffee black and egg white

I did skip songs but they were instrumentals.

UPDATE - The Summer of Finishing Unfinished Business: Part TV

My resolution to finish these screwy series has been going "not so good" (as said exactly like Teen Girl Squad) since we last spoke, dear bloggity blog.

• Dawson's Creek - Season 1: untouched since.
• Gilmore Girls - Season 7: untouched since.
• Veronica Mars - Season 1: two episodes since. Actually, it kind of became intriguing again. And I totes solved a mystery before 'the reveal'! Why I'm so excited, I don't really know.
• Gossip Girl - Season 2: two episodes since. I stopped at the sixth, content in the knowledge that Serena thinks my ex husband is "a total babe". Oh S, what will Lonely Boy say? I Watch Too Much TV: Wallace Shawn, aka Jenny's "monsieur" movie head honcho on The L Word, will pop up as Cyrus Rose, Blair's to-be stepfather and father of Serena's current squeeze, Aaron Rose, if I keep watching. But of course, I'll always know him as Clueless' Mr Hall, he who gave Cher a C in debate, because "he's a miserable little man who wants to make everyone else miserable too" (as said exactly in the staccato delivery of Dionne).
• ER - Season 12: finished. As I said it would be. Waiting impatiently for faster internet so that I may continue watching this 15th and final season. Roomies, I wait for you with bated breath and hopeful heart...
• Party of Five - Season 1: untouched since.
• The L Word - Season 5: finished. Halfway through, it got good...I think? No, it did, because Molly Kroll came along and she is all lesbianawkward and supercute and totespretty! And I continue to hate Shane's overall appearance, but never mind that now. I really wish Kit shot Dawn Denbo and her lover Cindy. I don't care that lover Cindy defected to our girls at the end, the fact that she was Denbo's lover Cindy should be reason enough for her death. And I almost forgot that Helena even existed! Do we ever find out what becomes of Dusty? Does Helena never return to her and we just assume that Dusty will rot out there somewhere? Why did I hate Jodi throughout her entire two-season run and then the minute she and Bette are over, at The Exhibition of Bette no less (called 'Core' or something equally wanky?), I suddenly find her and her straightened hair hot? Is Jodi gone for good? When did Shane learn to sign?! Why is Alice becoming so annoying to me? Why am I finding myself thinking Tina is pretty hot? Is Adele actually psychotic or did she just want to direct the movie? Why do I kind of love Jenny in some ways? So many questions. Ilene, answer meeeeee!! I Watch Too Much TV: PsychoAdele is also known to me on ER as Ray's Distraction slash Neela's Med Student slash Roomies Plot Wedge, Katey. And I used to think she was so pretty! But as I've discovered here, her face and possibly her entire head is too big for her body. And both Katey and Adele are such bitches FYI.
• My So-Called Life - Season 1: untouched since.

In the time in-between, I've managed to secure three more series, much to my chagrin (and that, Stephenie WhySoFail Meyer, is how you use the word 'chagrin': sparingly, not to mention in correct context).

• Charmed - Season 1: two episodes. It was cheeeap! And I mean that in all respects; the SFX, in particular, are laughably bad. It's better to watch it with the knowledge that Shannen Doherty is most likely a heinous bitch (with Alyssa Milano probably coming in second) and that eventually, these three sisters are going to be torn apart by backstage diva antics and Shannen will get fired/quit and Prue will die and oh noes! What of the Power of Three? That was the entire basis of this series! Oh, how convenient- we had a half-sister in Rose McGowan that we never knew about until now. Power of Three restored! And I haven't even gotten to the part where Drew Fuller, as Holly Marie Comb's not-yet-born second son, travels from the future to visit his parents and aunts so that he, as an adult, can a) prevent his older brother, as a baby, from becoming evil, and b) ensure his own conception. And in trying to save his baby older brother, he gets stabbed by Gideon! And dies as his father bad-acts and bad-weeps! But on the same day is re-born as that conceived baby! It's so awesomely bad, it almost teeters on good-bad. Alas, not quite.
• The Tudors - Season 1: six episodes. I would've continued, but this is all I was given. I didn't expect to have much interest, as I'm not a fan of period dramas and the like, but I was pleasantly surprised. I really don't know how historically accurate it all is, but there is a lot of sex. Perhaps they had nothing better to do with their time? Lots of boobage. Lots of OTTness from Jonathan Rhys-Meyers (who is really not King material). Lots of meetings with important whatsits. Not enough Charles Brandon. Or Catherine of Aragon, whose portrayer, Maria Doyle Kennedy, I have a mature-woman crush on. I luuurve her and her fake Spanish accent. And I haaate Anne Boleyn mainly because of her usurping of Queen Catherine, but also because Natalie Dormer distracts me from the role with her slightly, dare I say, 'special' looks. And there's gross Margaret who smothered her husband, the King of Portugal, to death with a pillow and promptly got right back into bed with Brandon and all that I see whenever she's on-screen are her wrinkles, her bones and her perma-tan. I had no idea they had tanning beds back then! Then there's James Frain and I can't remember who he plays but he's kind of hot for an old guy. Oh! And the gay relationship between the guy who played Sean's older brother in Degrassi (which means he's Canadian- squee!) and the povo music boy, and disturbingly, they look like brothers. There is much to enjoy here, my friends. I eagerly await the next half of the season, whenever my distributor gets back into contact.
• Full House - Season 1: um...somewhere between five and seven episodes? Borrowed from the cousins next door because I was obviously on drugs. I actually used to love watching this in the late 80s and early 90s. I used to love Stephanie, the middle child. Who would've guessed that she'd grow up to be a meth addict whose policeman husband ditched because of her habit, and then would follow that up with becoming preggers by some guy she'd known a couple of months and would marry soon after only to divorce some months after that? And what's more, Uncle Joey was maybe, apparently, quite possibly, all sorts of wrong, because how else do you explain the fact that Dave Coulier dated Alanis Morisette while she was 14 and he was 20something? That song, You Oughta Know? Is about him, post-breakup. And he was working with those kids on the show all that time! The number of times he was holding one of the Olsen twins...oh, scandalous!

Why I Hate Love Hate RPattz

I have inherent hate for Robert Pattinson and it has pretty much existed since I first saw a picture, during Goblet of Fire filming, of the purported Cedric Diggory. I'm not one of those diehard Potter fans- if I'm going to be petitioning for anything, it's going to be for a Gimpy Roomies' Baby (Come on! Mindi's preggers already! They wouldn't even need a prosthetic belly!)

However, I do tend to get a little miffed by overlooked physical details because my life is all about those little details that clutter up my head and don't leave room for anything else (like, say...study?) If the author is going to go on and on and on about Harry having his mother's green eyes, I think the actor playing Harry should be similarly green-eyed in the films. That Radcliffe twerp is ridiculously overpaid as it is, and someone somewhere can't stab two fuckin' contacts over his orbs?! "Am I reaching for the stars here? No." (as said exactly like Meryl Streep).

Cedric Diggory, from memory, is meant to be good-looking. You know, facially. And I am aware that this is plain and simple personal opinion here but Robert Pattinson's face? Is kind of fug. Actually, a little more than kind of: he's all sorts of fug. And I keep coming across all these random 'news' items about his gross hair and poor hygiene and just general greasy gross fugness and it's really not helping his case. Bottom line: he is not good-looking. Not enough to be Cedric in any case. So what did some of those hardcore Potter manics do? Petition, of course, to be rid of RPattz and more importantly, to secure a certain Henry Cavill for the role instead. Again, personal opinion and biased at that, because Henry is my husband #3 (I can't remember if I divorced him before I married Kate Moennig. I think I'm polygamous, y'all! And completely in need of psych help!), but why not choose a guy who's actually good-looking for the role of a good-looking guy? Am I all alone in my bewilderment here?

It could've been so beautiful, Cedric. My third (ex?) husband could've done you justice.

Needless to say, Mr That Girl didn't get the role. But whatever, right? Cedric dies anyway! RPattz could have his 15 minutes of fame and be done with it and the fug would disappear. Yeah? Yeah?! Not so. Circa mid-2006, I chose to read a novel entitled Twilight based purely on the fact that the author, Stephenie Meyer (she of the whysofail?), selected Henry as the actor she felt could embody the male protagonist, Edward Cullen. Who happens to be a vampire. A vegetarian vampire. A 100something-year-old vegetarian vampire with old-fashioned sensibilities and, most importantly, the face of a god slash angel slash model slash everythingelseMeyerdeemstobeimpossiblybeautiful. That is to say, he is good-looking. As in, she (and that absolute twit of a main character, Bella) won't let you forget his AMAZINGBEAUTYOMIGAH*DIES*

So, time went by and the novel got optioned by film studios and whatnot and eventually, the lead female role (ie. TwitBella) was announced to have been won by a certain Kristen Stewart (who I may or may not have ditched Wife Kate for. I really can't remember. So many weddings, so little time). I love me some Kristen, she of the hott legs and husky voice, but that is a little besides the point. The big, gigantic, motherfuckin' point ("on this motherfuckin' plane!" as said exactly like Samuel L. Jackson, because when else am I going to be able to use that line?) here is that when the role of Edward was finally cast, despite author and fan support for Hubby Cavill, it ultimately went to that fugmo RPattz again. Now, I say once more that I am not like those obsessive freaks who dub themselves Twihards or whatever the fuck their moniker is, but it was a very bitter pill to swallow (and I am really not particularly good at swallowing pills in the first place, so as you can imagine, I was choking). Some who witnessed the moment I found out like to say that I exploded into a screaming fit, of rage blackout proportions (akin to those suffered exactly by Summer Roberts), but you really shouldn't believe everything people say.

"I could be here and now...I should be" (as sung exactly like Nick Drake).

But whatever, right? I mean, Edward is pretty much a controlling, obsessive, stalking, prude of a not!dead! boyfriend. I should be happy that Mr That Girl dodged that bullet, yeah? Yeah? Yeah...except for the part where Henry had also somehow managed to dodge bullets Superman, Batman and James Bond too, so this was yet another "You're not even a has-been. You're a never-was." moment (as said exactly like Coach Reilly). Then, there's the fact that RPattz shot to instant fame and fortune playing the roles of good-looking guys. Is it permanently Opposite Day now? Am I missing something? Is fugly really the new pretty? (Fug Girls, you are my heroes!)

And so lies the basis of my RPattz hatred:

1. he is fug and he keeps playing hott ("What's it doing?...You ruins it!" as said exactly like Andy Serkis)
2. he stole my (ex) husband's roles! ("...filthy little thieves!...They stole it from us!" as said exactly like Andy Serkis again. I flove Andy Serkis)
3. he got to mack on my would-be wife, Kristen, before I did ("My precious!")

However, on the other side of the love-hate spectrum, I have grudgingly found RPattz (while quite possibly perpetually drunk or high or both) to be entertaining. I think Hollywood has yet to find another actor who readily 'fesses up to not washing his hair to the point where built-up residue can be misconstrued as styling product. And then helpfully shakes some dandruff out to demonstrate the state of his not-so-luscious locks. Then talks about watching pornos. And having a Buddha inhabiting his head, giving him answers to the questions of life. Most importantly, he admits that he is not good-looking enough to play Cedric or Edward! I can't completely hate someone who agrees with me, can I?

Then, there's Art. Well, there's Art and Daniel Gale, and while Daniel was just as delightfully eccentric and dorky, we're going to focus on Art. Art fits RPattz to a T and if ever there was going to be a niche for him, it would be these kinds of characters: weird, loner, misfit, possibly functionally-retarded goofs.

Meet Art.

Note the 'tard giving Art's music the thumbs down.

See, RPattz-as-Art and I could get along; we both have an affinity for Canada.

Who doesn't love watching a film about random escalator-riding?

Note the spilt breakfast cereal. Incidentally, in this scene, he tells his mother he's trying to fix whatever is wrong with him.

'Nuff said.

How Art passes the time on the job. Frankly, I prefer Ben Willis' method of stripping female shoppers and drawing them in the nude (as seen exactly in Cashback), but to each his own.

Really? Am I alone in saying that I like films about the average loser's path to semi-self-actualisation, to the point where he can confide and bond with his mirror reflection? It's rather sweet: he's telling his image not to worry and that everyone will love them, despite the fact that he's a shit musician.

And when all else fails in Art's life, he climbs into bed with his parents...until they kick him out and his mother calls him boring and miserable and he runs outside and starts banging his head against objects. Honestly, RPattz should stick to these characters. He's actually good in these moulds and his non-looks are a non-issue. Win-win all 'round! End rant.

The Summer of Finishing Unfinished Business: Part Books

As you see, I'm resigned to never finishing that damn recap because I can't seem to make myself bothered enough, not even for me, so it must be official: I'm Dance-d out. I don't care so much at the moment because there are obviously more pressing matters at hand, such as the buttload of books I have rotting on my shelf that I'm supposed to be getting through this summer, or else all that money is wasted. Speaking as one soon to be out of employment (I quit! I quit! I actually did it, y'all!), the following list is sure to make me feel a little guilty, a little shameful and quite possibly, a little queasy at the thought of a) all those hours toiling away under the fluorescent and unforgiving lights, and b) how ridiculously simple it is to get me to buy something by saying it's on sale. Behold the numerous titles I have purchased in way too short an amount of time.


The Post-Semester 2 Exams Binge:

• The Almost Moon by Alice Sebold. Something about a daughter and a mother. And the daughter wants love/attention from the mother. So she kills her. Or something like that? Really, all I know is that I liked The Lovely Bones. This one was actually a smart buy. I was dilly-dallying about in A&R, quite intent on getting it along with a handful of others. In the end, I went with just the handful of others. The next day, I saw this at K-mart for practically half the A&R price. Sold! I was overly proud of myself for holding out, conveniently forgetting that shopping around for one title does not cancel the fact that I impulsively bought five others at crazy-arse jacked-up prices. Cracked the Spine? Pristine; pure; never touched.
• The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler. Um...I don't know? I've never even finished a Jane Austen in my reading life! I think Maggie Grace played the lesbian daughter, Allegra, in the film. And she's pretty! Cracked the Spine? Have read the first chapter. Or maybe two. I don't remember. I hate them all so far because they're so uninteresting. And there's random guy named Grigg. And a smelly dog.
• The Food of Love by Anthony Capella. It had a sticker boasting that it was signed by the author (and there are indeed blue ballpoint scribbles underneath Mr Capella's name inside!) so of course, how could I let that one slide? Anthony Capella might become a really world-renowned author someday! Furthermore, there are recs inside by Jamie Oliver and, wait for it, Hugh Laurie. Seriously. I don't know how many Hugh Laurie's there are in this world, noteworthy enough to have their literary recommendations printed in a novel, but seeing as they'll print Paris Hilton's recs, I'm going to have to assume that it's the awesomy Hugh 'House' Laurie who liked this book. As for the blurb, it pretty much tells you that it's going to be a modern, Italiano spin on Cyrano de Bergerac. With lots and lots of Italian food. Cracked the Spine? Current read. Lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of food. Makes me hungry. Probably not the best idea to be reading it at bedtime.
• Cat's Eye by Margaret Atwood. This was a whim buy. Something about bullying and how it haunts her to this day. I think it's one of those high school English texts? Cracked the Spine? Pristine.
• The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon. Over the years, a various number of people have recommended this title to me. My friend Cake promised me that I'd like it. So far, he's a liar. I can't get into it. Granted, I haven't really tried to get into it but I think maybe 'special' people (such as myself) can't really get into the heads of other 'special' people unless they're 'special' in exactly the same way. And I'm not especially autistic...I don't think. I have no empathy or curiousity to find out how or why the dog was forked. Cracked the Spine? First couple of pages. Up until he hits the police officer.
• Queen of Babble; Queen of Babble in the Big City; Queen of Babble gets Hitched by Meg Cabot. Big whim. But they're exactly what I knew they'd be, so I don't know...does that make them a worthy buy somehow? It's not like I bought Proust and got Dan Brown. I bought Meg Cabot and got Meg Cabot. No deception, no false hope, just plain old chick-lit with characters you want to smack. And seeing as there was only three books in the series, I thought I may as well...you know. Cracked the Spine? All finished. So shameful.

The Semester 2 Binge:

• On the Road by Jack Kerouac. It was cheap. And it's some American classic. And, there's this exchange-

MARISSA

Hey, like in On the Road? That's my favourite book.

SETH

(pouts)

Mine too.

Oh...classic OC. I used to enjoy you...Cracked the Spine? The first couple of pages. Something about some guy. And his wife? As observed by another guy? Maybe. I think they're white trash...possibly? Actually, I have no idea what the damn hell this is about.

• Cosmopolis by Don DeLillo. Apparently he's also the author of the acclaimed Underworld, not that I've read it or anything. Just an interesting tidbit. Or not so interesting. Whichever. Anyway, it was cheap...I think? Yeah, it totally was. It was part of some Borders discount store, a couple of doors down from the actual Borders, and I felt the ridiculous need to buy up there because of the fact that they were all on sale. Cracked the Spine? Pristine.
• Gucci Mamas by Cate Kendall; Alice in La La Land by Sophie Lee; Not Meeting Mr Right by Anita Heiss; The Shoe Queen by Anna Davis; Still Life with Husband by Lauren Fox. All part of a chick-lit boxset, that in turn was part of the Borders discount store sale whatever. Never mind the fact that I've no need of these titles, nor was I particularly interested in any of their repetitive plotlines ('Imsingleanddesperateandalsoveryveryverydesirablesowhydontmenwantmeeeeee?'). It was a boxset! In a nifty little box and everything! And cheap! Cheeeeeeeaaaaaappp! Cracked the Spine? Finished Gucci Mamas - stupid, asinine read. Started the other four in some way and I hate all the characters in each and every one of them! Gah, is it so hard to create a likeable female character?! They're all collecting dust somewhere on the shelf, probably doomed never to be opened and read again.

The Post-Semester 1 Exams Binge:

• Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire. OMG. OMFG! Oh-em-gee! I heart Elphaba!!!!1!! That is all. Cracked the Spine? And the cover, by accident. Actually, it's torn a teeny tiny bit. I've been reading it on and off since July. I can't take Elphie's tragic life and illicit heartbreak and eventual demise all at once. I read until I know something bad is going to happen to her (which is pretty much the running theme here) and then I stop. She's gone to visit her sister and father and there's not much left to go, so I know her death is looming. Sob!
• The Writing Class by Jincy Willett. Um, whim buy. Some writing class run by some woman, if memory serves me correctly, in which a whole host of characters (don't you love it when authors attempt to make people interesting by giving them some funny item of clothing and we're supposed to think that it makes them an interesting character?) attend and one of them is murdered and then the teacher has to turn detective and find out who committed the murder through their writing assignments because dun-dun-dun! One of her students is a killer! Solid premise, I guess, but the construction has yet to capture me. Cracked the Spine? I flipped to the end after two chapters to find out who the murderer is, not even thinking to myself, "Omigah! I totes knew it was that person!" because I wasn't even remotely invested in this book enough to care.
• Chasing Harry Winston by Lauren Weisberger. Well, really, because I'd read her other two and the running gimmick of having a different-coloured stiletto on her covers actually works on me. It's greeeeeen! And there's a diamond ring too! Pretty! Cracked the Spine? Finished. Not that great. Devil remains the best read.
• Everyone Worth Knowing by Lauren Weisberger. To complete my collection of stiletto covers of course! Cracked the Spine? Re-read it. Better than I remembered, but I remembered it was crap, so that's not saying much.
• Comfort Food by Kate Jacobs. There are these AWESOMY CUPCAKES on the cover, which danced a little icing jig and waved their silver sugar balls in the air like pompoms and basically forced me to buy the book. Who am I to deny hallucinatory baked goods come to life? Cracked the Spine? Finished. I didn't mind it. It was a solid read. Although, I'm a little perturbed by the May-December romance that featured. And for some weird, weird, fucked-up reason, the younger guy this older woman falls for always resembled RomanfromHomeandAway in my head. Not that I tried to picture them, you know, having sex or anything. But Roman always comes to mind when I think about this book. And I hate Roman. So weird!
• Secrets of My Hollywood Life by Jen Calonita. Whim buy. Total waste. Asinine teen book. Really, what was I on? Cracked the Spine? Finished, unfortunately for me. That's two hours of my life I'll never get back!

The Random A&R Sale Binge: There was a 3 for 2 sale on. Hence, the three titles.

• Entering Normal by Anne LeClaire. Cracked the Spine? Finished. Slightly asinine, slightly preachy, but bordering on average.
• The Goodbye Summer by Patricia Gaffney. Cracked the Spine? Read the first couple of chapters, hated the main character so fucking much. Plus, was skeeved out by the guy she likes because I think she said he had shoulder-length wispy hair or something and I kept imagining the creepy guy who takes the Glen Waverley line and gets on at Mount Waverley and he has this bald patch and then shoulder-length, wispy, pink hair that he randomly ties up and then unties over and over as he sits on the train. I also think of this guy when I picture Xeno Lovegood.
• Twilight Time by Emma Blair. Cracked the Spine? First two chapters I think and then I fell asleep. So boring. The fact that this book is not even on my shelf but still somewhere in the boxes I have yet to unpack from the move tells you all you need to know.

And then, as if that's not enough, there are books I've bought that I've never finished for whatever reason. I have no need for new books because I have too many piling up in the to-finish pile! It's INSANE!

The Unfinished Books Bought from Binges Long-Forgotten:

• Little Women by Louisa May Alcott.
• To Die For by Carol Lee.
• Fashionistas by Lynn Messina.
• Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.
• The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien.
• Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert.
• Tess of the d'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy.

The Books I've Borrowed, Never Finished and Never Returned to Their Owners (technically, these don't count because I didn't spend money on them, but the fact remains that I can't use the excuse of "Imsoboredihavenothingtoread!" in order to excuse my excessive need to spendspendspend!):

• Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell.
• Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser.

Bottom line: I need help. Urgently.

Random Recap 2, Take 2

Completely forgot I'd left this unfinished and since nobody actually cares, save me, I'm going to finish it. Because I'm good at wasting time on useless things like that!

Last time, I got to here: http://thevoiceinsidemyheadsays.blogspot.com/2008/07/random-recap-2.html Then I got bored and went to make a chocolate cake.

Freaky but factual: I just finished making the exact same cake tonight and was reminded of this recap from the last time I made the cake. So technically, I'm keeping my promise in going to make the cake and coming back later! Same packet mix and all! Except I screwed the frosting this time 'round! And the frosting is the best part! And it was so sad! But also so retarded because how hard is it to swish some butter and frosting powder around?! Whysolame?!?!?! Gah.

So, now that my dry, cardboardy packetmix, frosting-less cake is cooling, let's see exactly how Dance-d out I am these days. Cue the file...aaand play!

Time to reveal how Australia voted for the girls!

The girls. In case that wasn't evident.

Kate's "romantic rumba" and her "hip-hop trio" are recapped, beginning with the phrase: "Thrilled to be re-teamed with Rhys...".

That's not thrilled, that's psychotic.

Blah blah, the judges were "equally thrilled". Bonnie said: "I'm just thrilled for the both of you." So today's episode will obviously be brought to you by the letters T, H, R, I, L, another L, E and D. In addition to the letters S, U, C, K, I and T. Interesting that not all the judges' comments shown in the recap are the ones shown in the aired performance episode. Then, we get the thrill of seeing that hip-hop mess again.

Oh, lookie! It's SexyVanessa! (Which is also synonymous with SpecialVanessa and by special, yes, I do mean "stop eating the paste" special.)

Kate looks embarrassed as the recap ends. All three of them should be, because it's now quite obvious that the hip-hop 'dance' was not simply a bad dream.

Oooh, something shiny! *attentionspanGONE*