SPN 4.2, Doomsday, Hellboy 2

This week I have mostly been sorting my new flat how I want it (still) and watching telly. Now that I have my shiny new Toshiba. Which, yes, is called Tosh for short. But you knew that was coming, right?

First things first: last Thursday’s ‘Supernatural’ episode. While the title may have put me off just a tad, the actual story line was sound, and I did appreciate so many faces back to cause trouble. Sam still needs to take the situation seriously and realise Dean is really back - I’m not convinced it’s actually sunk in yet. I did get more than a few giggles hearing The Boys argue about the existence of angels - and on paper, Dean wins. I’m sorry, but he does. Bobby is still awesome, and this Misha Collins dude is really haring up the leader board in the Best Loved Guest Stars category. Still not convinced as far as New Ruby goes (still wishing Traci Dinwiddie had got that part), but hey, I’m nothing if not prepared to be swayed, should she suddenly become more believeable.

There was no way this episode was going to challenge 4.1 for the Season Triumph Award in my house, but it certainly did not let the side down by any stretch of the imagination. Lines like “If you say ‘mysterious ways’ so help me I’ll kick your ass” are keeping us on the level. If some felt the first episode was a step too far in terms of credible story lines, then this 4.2 will steady a few nerves, not least of all cos right now, Dean is the voice of the audience. Interesting switch from season three, eh?

Then there was ‘Doomsday’, the semi-Scottish-made virus disaster flick. I sat down hoping it would be better than the shite they were showing on TV. While it was a decent waste of about 110 minutes, I did find myself looking at my watch a good few times. Not even the impressive cast could keep me riveted - I got up to make a cup of tea at one point and didn't bother pausing it. It was very nice to see Alexander Siddig on my screen again, but the wasting of Sean Pertwee and ‘Hustle’s Adrian Lester was annoying. Also spotted Martin Compston, barely recognising him from ‘Sweet Sixteen’. Didn't matter though, cos just about everyone was killed off. Bob Hoskins was good - but then be always is. Not sure about the lead bird. I understand she was supposed to be emotionally detached, but most of the time she just came off as bored.

And then there was ‘Hellboy II: The Golden Army’. Visually impressive but a lot of “why bother?” going through my head. Again, I checked my watch more than a few times, and it’s barely 120 minutes long. A few giggles, a few gasps at the amazing creature concepts. The rest of it? Not so great.

I have been stalked this week - but that’s for another post. It’s probably not what you think, but it has freaked me out a little. But more on that later. For now I’m going to enjoy my day off tomorrow (1st October: who says China’s not good for summat?).

Soopytwist.

Tags:
Supernatural ~ Dean Winchester ~ Sam Winchester ~ Misha Collins ~ Doomsday ~ Hellboy II

Batten down the hatches

~~cos there’s a storm comin’! Well actually, it’s already here. Just braved a lovely warm but nevertheless pounding shower to dash from the bus stop to my front door. Already soaked to the skin before I could get the entrance code in - and that’s standing in the lobby / alcove thing.

It’s about 28º C and blowing a bloody great 40 mph wind that nearly lifted me off me feet as I came round the corner to get home. The good news is, my last lesson of the day was cancelled so I could go home. The bad news is, we have a number 8 typhoon going on. At least we still have the internet and telly… All I have to do is ignore the rubbish bins lifting themselves up and hurling themselves at cars and lampposts, and the bumps and bangs of assorted miscellanea being blown about the windows. Seven storeys up.


Still, it’ll all be over tomorrow. Aceness. Especially as I have lunch with Goh Goh booked and sorted seven ways from Sunday. Ain’t no power in the ‘verse gonna stop us.

Soopytwist.

Tags:
Hong Kong ~ typhoon

Supernatural 4.1: Out Of The Fire…

Danger! Danger! Spoilers Will Robinson!
Supernatural season four episode 1 spoilers are contained in the following post!

Yes, it’s finally here - squeeeeee time. Or rather, Thursday night (LA time) saw the first episode of season four of ‘Supernatural’: 'Lazarus Rising'. I can safely say I’ve not been this excited since Doctor Ten took over in ‘Doctor bloody Who’. So what went on, then?

First off - and this is very important to us - we get a quick recap of the last three seasons (or rather, the pertinent bits). Never ones to miss a cheeky poke at or simple revel in the show, this recap is set to AC/DC. They really have shaken us all night long - for three seasons so far. Can they manage it for another?

Looks that way. We start with an ‘Evil Dead’-like montage that had me cheering but also sets the scene for the major weirdness to follow. A lovely new credit card for the show name later, and purr wee resurrected Dean is looking for Isotonic Lucozade in all the wrong places. He does however stumble onto a newspaper that shows that, at time of being delivered to the now empty Quikimart, it was 18th September, 2008. Nice touch.

A quick check confirms that not only has he no scars or even marks from being ripped to shreds by Hellhounds, but someone's also left a dirty great handprint on his eminently lickable likeable shoulder. (Now we know this must have been a bloke. Let’s face it, if I'd left a handprint on Dean Winchester, we all know it would not have been where you could see it in polite company.) No, no Hellhound claw marks there, Dean - and I was really looking.

He gets a Close Encounter of the Second Kind as the shop is raided by what sounds suspiciously like an amplified whine of electrical power. It stops without reason and he rapidly makes an attempt to find anyone that knows him. Sam's number disconnected, he manages to call Bobby and freak the poor guy out before hot-wiring what looks to be a 1961 Chevrolet Impala and making straight for him.

They meet up, but obviously Bobby's not just going to give him a big hug and let him mosey on back into everyone's lives after being dead for four months. Silver knives, holy water and desperate questions later and we're getting down to business. (Nice gag with Dean taking a bottle-ful of holy water in the face and simply working it through philosophically before spitting it out.) Dean postulates that missing Sammy was responsible for some deal to get him out of Hell, and Bobby reveals that He Of The Shaggy Hair has been Lone-Wolfing it for some time now. Dean uses Sam's typical alias of none other than Wedge Antiles (yay for sneaky Star Wars references!) to track down his phone.

Then comes the moment roughly 2.7 million fangirls and boys have been waiting for: The Boys meet back up. It's not exactly what you'd expect; not everyone is hip to what's really going on, and there's a million reasons why this meeting is really not going to go how either of them wanted. There's definitely something rotten in Denmark, and it ain't Dean's corpse. Sam appears to have picked up some girl whose name he can't even remember, her unmentionables left as a memento. Sam swears blind he hasn't made any deals to get Dean out - as no demon would deal with him, so it wasn't for lack of trying. He's been looking for Lilith and apparently tracking demons, which left him in exactly the same town as where Dean broke out of his pine box. Sam has also been jealously guarding Dean's amulet, handing it over to make this the second time he's given him the ugly semi-Zoroastrian dude. Dean confesses he can't remember Hell - or is that Lie Number One from the master of Stiff Upper Lippage?

A very funny Kodak moment comes in the form of Sam having added his iPod to the Impala's cassette deck. The sound of Jason Manns’ “Vision” comes flooding into the car and Dean is monumentally unimpressed. (But we are: Jason Manns is of course a close buddy of Jensen Ackles and they've sung together a few times.)

Bobby calls on old friend Pamela the Psychic and off they go to sneak a peek at this demon that appears to have yanked Dean out of The Pit. Another few giggles as both boys are hot to trot for the sassy lass (who gets my vote - she's ace!). Dean gets his handprinted arm out again (never a bad thing) and then a very bad thing does happen to poor Pamela as she tries to look at Dean's yanker/ganker. Curiously, while Dean again gets a Close Encounter of the Second Kind, no-one else appears to have heard the whining power keen or the white noise of the TV. Poor Pamela, eyes burnt out and screaming, is sent to hospital and they all call it a night.

Breakfast is short and sticky in a bad way for the Winchester boys as they stumble into a diner, only to find it staffed by demons. An amazing scene follows, whereby it transpires Jensen Ackles' acting skills are starting to far outstrip pretty much everyone else's on the show. Waitress Girl reveals she's a demon who wants answers as to why Dean's not still six feet under. Dean does a marvellous job of covering abject fear and gibbering at the thought of being peeled like a human banana by the lot of them, and instead goes on an impressive verbal offensive that even Sam seems to regard as somewhat Sherlock-esque.

An impressive exit later and Sam's ditching on Dean - yes, you read that right. As he rumbles into the night in the Impala (gasp!), Dean has another Close Encounter and decides enough is enough: if Bobby hadn't intervened, his ears would not have stopped bleeding until his brain turned to jelly and slid out of his ears. Dean does the only thing he can: persuade Bobby to help him summon the nasty stalker-presence trying to inflict Death By White Noise. And then we get Lie Number Two from Dean to Sam as he fails to come clean about said plan. This is not going to bode well. But wait, what's this? The nasty force after Dean is obviously one step ahead of The Boys, as Sam finds out. He commits Lie Number One against Dean, saying he's stepping out for a burger and neglecting to mention that he's planning on killing those pesky diner demons. While he's at it, he finds that the waitress has also looked upon the nasty mo-fo and her eyes are as burnt out as the poor psychic lass. We're not really feeling sorry for her (demon!), until Sam reveals Whopping Great Big Hyowj Lie Number One, bumping pretty much everything else to the Really Not Important Bin: he can use Jedi Mind Tricks to kill demons. Not send them anywhere, kill them. And how has he learnt to do this?

Turns out One Night Stand Girl from earlier is in fact Ruby in a new meat suit. While Sam is aggrieved he couldn't save the waitress' poor innocent possessed body while killing the demon in the diner, he's still too gung-ho to use his UnGod-given talent to kill demons - and is prevaricating about the bush in terms of how and when he’s going to tell Dean about his powers.

Meanwhile, Bobby and Dean have summoned The Nasty. It takes some time, but eventually it arrives. In comes a shabby accountant who admits to having gripped Dean tight and yanked him from Perdition, thus leaving what amounts to his Hancock on his impressive shoulder. Anyway, Shabby Accountant Dude's first act is to neutralise Bobby - cue a heart-stopping moment as I'm wishing and hoping he's not permanently damaged. Apparently, he's not.

And then comes the big shocker - one half of fandom wrote about and predicted, but never seriously thought would come: Castiel (a relation or corruption of Cassiel/Kafziel, perhaps?) states he's an angel of the Lord.

Dean does his usual bang-up job of making his doubt evident, and the angel duly shows off his bad-ass black wings. Turns out, while Dean thought he was being stalked and hunted, it was really only an angel with a volume control problem trying to talk to him. Again, we get a powerful scene from the cast; a man unable to believe that good things happen to good people, and an angel unable to believe that that same man can't accept he's good enough to be saved from The Pit.

Oh, but there's a catch to Dean being saved. Just a tiny one: God has work for him.

So what are we to make of all this? Well for starters, we’ve got several unsettling things going on at once, not least of all The Brothers lying to each other. Oh Sam, are you sure you want to be flat-out, bold-faced lying to your recently self-exhumed brother about something as dangerous as letting Ruby teach you Jedi Mind Tricks? Lest we forget, he has been the only thing you've been able to rely on in the past, ooh, twenty-odd years? And now you're dragging your feet over fessing up? Whether he'll swing for your altitudinous head or not, he still needs to know this little piece of info.

While we're on the subject of lying, how long can Dean pretend he's not having acid flashbacks of Hell and Damnation? Maybe he doesn't actually remember, but he's got to know that these things never stay hidden - they just lurk, festering, until brought into the light.

A part of me wants Sam to use his newly-trained aptitude for controlling The Force to kill demons. But the rest of me recognises it for what it is: a Very Bad Thing. Dean knows it too - he's warned Sam before that it's a road he really does not want to go down: “You know what it's paved with and you know where it's headed.” But Sam wouldn't be Sam without a rebellious streak a mile wide and his dad's stubbornness. Which is going to get him, and Dean, worse than killed.

And so to Cassiel [sic.]. An angel of the Lord, eh? Interesting. God itself commanded that Dean be brought back? I remember hearing that story somewhere... not least of all in one of my own fanfics. [Note to self: edit category of ‘Intervention Pending’ to AU, seeing as it's happened onscreen except with Cassiel, not Michael. Both among the seven archangels though, aren't they?]

I like this angel dude - and I'm an atheist. As a story arc and a character, he works, he really does. I hope he keeps that meat suit he borrowed, Misha Collins did an excellent job. Ruby though... not so sure I like her. I liked Katie Cassidy - really, really liked Katie Cassidy. She was a believable, formidable actress. This new one? Not so credible, I'm afraid. Just not feeling a cutting edge of danger there, sweetheart. Now, if they'd swapped the two actresses who played Pamela the psychic girl (the amazing Traci Dinwiddie) and New Ruby, I'd be impressed. She was vibrant, quirky, funny. Could have been very different.

So back to Sam. He should know that all this “psychic crap”, as Sensible Dean calls it, is a slippery slope. How long before it changes you? How many times can you use it before it starts to bag larger and larger parts of your soul? What happens when you're all about killing demons - and nothing else? Is this really all that Sam wants to be? And Dean. Now technically working for Him Upstairs, unless he puts down one of his big biker boots and draws a line at just what he's prepared to believe. None of this is going to sit well with him, and both boys have indeed Got Work To Do. How did Joseph Campbell himself put it? “Typically, the hero of fairy tale achieves a domestic, microcosmic triumph, and the hero of myth a world-historical, macrocosmic triumph. Whereas the former - the youngest or despised child who becomes the master of extraordinary powers - prevails over his personal oppressors, the latter brings back from his adventure the means for the regeneration of his society as a whole.” More on Sam, the hero of fairy tale, from the mighty Campbell: “The godly powers sought and dangerously won are revealed to have been within the heart of the hero all the time. He is “the king’s son”, who has come to know who he is and therewith has entered into the exercise of his proper power.” And Dean, the hero of myth? Easy: “He is a hero who, by his courage in the fiery furnace, his unreadiness to break down and grovel before a popular conception of the character of the All Highest, has proven himself capable of facing a greater revelation than the one that satisfied his friends.” Of course, Joseph Campbell was not really writing about Sam and Dean Winchester back in his 1949 masterpiece of myth and legend skeined together (‘The Hero With A Thousand Faces’). In fact, the last quote was about Job.

I may be missing the relationship The Boys held together in season three already, but I have no doubt that, should this Cassiel tell Dean that God's first task for him is to stop Sam using demonic powers to kill Them Downstairs, or ultimately to stop Sam permanently, there's going to be Trouble. Big-ass Winchester Family Trouble, the likes of which any creature, heavenly or not, has ever seen. And I’m kinda waiting for Cassiel to stay in his borrowed - not possessed - meat suit and Dean to ask why, and then he can say it's cos Dean shot and stabbed the real body - if he leaves, doesn’t the man die?

I bloody loved this episode - it’s full of questions, wrong turns, great, great dialogue and some bloody ace acting. It’s going to be a fantastic season if this is what we have with which to measure what’s coming after. We can only hope it goes on as it started. In fact, even though I wrote a story that rather closely resembles this (but obviously could not hope to come anywhere near close to the vicinity of what the amazing Eric Kripke has achieved in weaving this opening tale), angels and all, I was still surprised and delighted by the twists and turns.

There must be a way for all these lies to be unmasked for what they are, for Sam to stop the demon side of him warring with his Winchester side, for Dean to accept that someone other than his brother and Bobby might consider him worth saving - because of who he is, not because of a tie by blood. Oh, silly me, there is: twenty-one more episodes of season four…

And that’s all the reaction that’s fit to print. Honestly, I could sleep for a week now. Don’t worry, next time I’m back, it’ll be a whole lot shorter…

Peach and lube, everyone. Lots and lots of lube.

Tags:
Supernatural ~ Eric Kripke ~ Dean Winchester ~ Sam Winchester ~ Jensen Ackles ~ Jared Padalecki ~ Jim Beaver ~ Misha Collins ~ Joseph Campbell ~ Star Wars ~ demons ~ angels ~ Cassiel ~ Katie Cassidy ~ Traci Dinwiddie

Queen and Paul Rodgers: The Cosmos Rocks

So here’s the thing: some are wanting it exactly as it used to be, with Freddie and Brian and Roger and John. Others are pretty realistic about the fact that there can never, ever, be a Queen album ever again. Not a real one. That much should be obvious.

So why have so many people cast scorn on the new album that two of the original line-up (still using the Queen band name, granted) have recently released? Aren’t they allowed to re-invent the group with what’s left, should they want? After all, Madonna and George Michael have done it enough times. Can’t one half of Queen do it too?

I’ll admit, I was sceptical when I saw this album was coming. Seeing the band name in big letters was a little unnerving - how can it be Queen without the flamboyant, loveable front man? And then came the heart-stopper: nestled under the band banner was a simple name. Paul Rodgers. For those unfamiliar with his voice or name, you may not ‘get it’. But for me it was enough to make me run straight to iTunes and try the samples of each track. And I was sold - or rather, the album was. UK£7.99 later and I’m downloading the choons and getting excited at the mere fact that pretty soon new strains of Paul Rodgers will be echoing round me new ‘study’ in me flat. Could I wait? Could I bloody hell as like. There aren’t many people for whom I’ll get childishly excited, but Paul Rodgers is one of them. Why? Cos he was the lead singer of Free and more importantly to me, Bad Company. And there’s just something about his mmm - mmm bits that make me wibble. I can’t help it.

So anyway - the inevitable album write-up: what did I think of The Cosmos Rocks?

It opens fantastically enough with Cosmos Rockin’. A good opening, with typical loud guitars and bashing of drums - and even a synth’d out voice setting the scene. And then Paul’s voice crashes in and you realise this isn’t Queen and it was never supposed to be. It’s a hybrid of people who just want to make music. While this track is not one of my favourites (I tend to press ‘next’ when it comes on), it does what it should do: reminds you that there’s a whole mix of stuff going on here, folks. And it can only get better.

The next track, Time To Shine, starts with a semi-Bad Company, semi-Queen piano, and then some trademark Paul sounds; how long have we waited for his voice on a new track? There are some very Queenesque lyrics, something you could imagine King Freddie singing. A fab bit of vocals on the chorus that, for me, pretty much makes the album all worthwhile. You know that the two Queen boys are still the gods of drums and guitar, and it’s so good to know that Paul still has his familiar tones. Does it get better than this?

Yes it does, because then we get Still Burnin’, and it’s all good. Solid lyrics this time, excellent backing, bloody fab ensembles. We get vintage Queen sounds and Paul at his rockity-rock-rock best. And then there’s a cheeky little We Will Rock You riff mid-song that will probably give everyone a little giggle. Oh, ain’t rock grand?

It’s not all loud stuff; Small is an excellently gentle yet meaningful reminder of what everyone needs. It has some wonderful imagery in the lyrics and some well-placed accompaniment from The Boys. A beautiful guitar solo from The Wild Haired One and a rousing group effort towards the end, and this is the track I’m whistling long after I’ve pulled off me ear-plugs to start work.

Then it’s back to harder stuff and we get Warboys. Lyrics not too harsh but managing to make a few points about soldiers around the world - let’s face it, this isn’t a political album at all, but a couple of well-chosen phrases are enough to acknowledge what the world’s about these days. Some fab loud guitars and both the Mayster and wee Roger give it some long-awaited wellie.

Then we get it toned down again with We Believe. A little reminiscent of One Vision in the pure optimism of its lyrics, but this is a different approach. Paul does a marvellous job of going through these lines without sounding like he’s preaching. He doesn’t come over as some patronising rich bastard, and that’s due in no small part to the melody and build-up given by the very Queenesque chorus. The synchronised voices, the bold lead vocal, the guitar sound, the solo, it’s all there. It’s not harsh or troubling, it’s just Queen with someone else borrowing the microphone to create a new sound instead of trying to recreate something that can never be brought back. It’s solemnly ace.

Call Me is an instant winner! It’s been on iPhone Dax all of twenty-four hours, but already it’s climbing to my new favourite song of the week. It might even end up as my ringtone this week. The song starts off with the classic Queen chorus voice, but suddenly Paul jumps in to remind us all what he does best. Gawd, I’ve waited for that voice, and he doesn’t disappoint. The shifts, the melodious up-and-downy thing he does so well, it’s all there. It’s only lacking his sultry mmm-mmm and then I’d die happy! Very catchy, very ace, and a perfect hybrid of Queen and the mighty Paul.

And then it feels like we’ve slipped back into a Bad Company album as Voodoo goes through its paces. Smooth backing and honeyed vocals are very very familiar and very very welcome. Brian May’s mid-way showcase shines brightly here, not with his usual weapon of choice but one definitely very well executed. It’s all very reminiscent but strangely new, too.

And there it is! The patent-pending mmm-mmm from Paul, and yay, I can die content in the knowledge he still sounds the same - like hot chocolate with the occasional marshmallow in it - as more slower, genuinely fine stuff comes in the form of Some Things That Glitter. A nice story told with patience and all the sounds we like - Roger Taylor backing sync’d with Brian May’s tones, the plethora of guitar tracks used, the sound of Paul Rodgers. Bliss. Some things that glitter may be gold indeed - and this track is one of them.

But hold on, what’s this? A loud Queen-style intro, Paul’s voice over the top stridently kicking off the next track? It’s C-lebrity! It’s a little sarcastic, a little naughty, a little witty, and certainly something with which Sir Freddie of Mercury would be greatly amused. A jibe against the long list of wannabe famous people, every kind of cling-on, media-sponge or camera-hog comes under fire here, and it’s just ace to listen to and giggle along with. It’s my second favourite track. It’s genius. Thanks, Roger Taylor, for penning it.

Then we’re back on a go-slow with Through The Night. A little more soulful and a little more vintage Bad Company than vintage Queen, but that’s not a bad thing by any stretch of the imagination. It’s a nice package that will shine more as instant likeable hits such as C-lebrity drift into the background. A nice bit of gratuitous guitar to break up the bleaker feel to the lyrics also makes sure Paul’s delightfully ‘woe-is-me’ take on it never gets monotonous. Another worthy track.

Then a surprise: the next track, Say It’s Not True, is brought to us by Roger Taylor to begin with, and then The Mighty Hairy one himself as we go on. The poignant lyrics are a little obvious at first, the subject matter still a sore point after so many years without Freddie. But it picks up halfway as Paul takes over, and full Post-Freddie Queen Ballad Effort goes into full swing.

Not a big fan of Surf’s Up… School’s Out, but again it’s loud and brash, and I'm sure before too long it’ll grow on me. For the moment it gets skipped when it comes on.

But then we get a beautiful little reprise from the closing bars of Small, Oasis-like, and it’s all over. Still, that’s thirteen brand spanking new tracks, plus a cover of Runaway (on the iTunes version) and a weeny reprise. Not bad for an album that most Queen fans didn’t want in the first place. While I would argue that perhaps using the Queen name when they were only 50% of their original line-up and then teaming with a completely different supergroup’s lead singer is a little unnecessary, there is still enough of the Queen sound in here to let them just about get away with it. However, had I been one of The Boys, I probably would have gone with a new name, as 90% of the music world would have heard who was in it anyway. That aside, it’s been a fantastic foray into collaboration, and I for one am really hoping they do another one.

It’s not really Queen, and it’s not really Bad Company - but then, it was never meant to be. It’s some kind of weird bastard somewhere in between, and it’s new, and for that alone it deserves a listen. Chuck it out straight after, or just pick the tracks you like and bin the rest - either way, it’s a fab addition to my bookcase and it’s going at the top.

I’m knackered now. Just about… ooh… twelve hours to go till the first episode of season four of ‘Supernatural’ hits the CW channel in the US, and then spreads out in ever increasing ripples over a thousand torrent sites and similar file-sharing networks. And then I shall be rewarded for having waited all summer without reading any spoilers at all (save the episode title - ta very much, Big Sis!). All good things come to those who wait… But if the episode or in fact arc of season four in any way mirrors what I’ve already written and posted as fan-fiction, I’ll be the one on the floor of my front room, in need of brandy and/or smelling salts. Hello, Mr Kripke sir, can I have a job now please?

That shallot. Onion. Thing. I’m off to sort my front room for the Delivering Of The Hyowj TV tomorrow morning (touch wood).

Soopytwist.

Tags:
Queen ~ Roger Taylor ~ Brian May ~ Paul Rodgers ~ Bad Company ~ Freddie Mercury ~ iTunes

Kinda back…

Mid-Autumn Festival was fab. By fab, I mean I got some ice-cream mooncakes from Häagen-Dazs, got a day off for the privilege, and sorted the rest of my flat out. It’s almost done. Just got to get a bookcase to house the remnants of my wannabe-artsy Dark Literature Side (H.P. Lovecraft, Terry Pratchett, Bruce Campbell etc.). Oh, and the sight of squillions of young’uns taking their lanterns to the park across the road and arsing about watching the moon was pretty heart-warming. If I had a heart.

Aren’t festivals ace? A time when you’re supposed to be a little nicer, smile a little easier, be more polite, open doors for people as don’t deserve it and not moan about it, etc. etc..? I cite the case of me, Sunday evening, going into Circle K to buy a bottle of water and some Tsing Tao (favourite beer): I open the large chiller doors that are exactly the same as the ones in every Shell petrol station all over the UK and grab a beer. I close the door to find a rather tall, striking dude next to me also wanting the beer. Good evening, he says, and are you having a nice moon festival, he says. I manage some reply and he’s being so nice when it’s probably his first Mid-Autumn Festival so he’s not really sure what’s going on but prepared to let it go. He’s getting beer and asking about stuff, and I find he’s far more striking than I previously thought. Anyway, turns out he’s here on his hols, and seeing so many wee kids playing with a plethora of lanterns int park is just making his day. I’m still getting over his delicious similarity to Djimon Hounsou when we both have to pay for said beer and get on with life. Ah well. We part company, but I hope he has a very good evening. He was too polite, too nice to have a crappy night on such a pleasant evening as this.

Came miserably low in the pub quiz Sunday evening and Stoke lost 3-2 to Everton, of all people - but not all was lost, as The Barman sorted us with some Grandma’s Trifles (his own concoction in honour of Stoke City going up the to the Premiership int first place) and yay, they were nice.

New flat is fab, too. I love chunky buttons. There’s summat about chunky buttons that light up - they remind me of all those sci-fi films where the set designers are going for the retro look. My building is covered in these chunky buttons. I like ‘em.

As I think I’ve already said, I need another bookcase - all my DVDs, CD and VCDs took up every inch of space on my existing four. Damn. Which means I still have one box of books to put away, then my move-in is complete. Speaking of which, the hardest part of moving is not the furniture, knowing where to put stuff, packing everything, unpacking everything etc.., it’s actually the DVD part. I spent about twenty minutes putting furniture int right places and another twenty minutes moving it again. Done, dusted, sorted. Then I spent about two hours putting all the assorted films, soundtracks, music and miscellaneous VCDs in their rightful places. I shit you not - two hours. My progress might have been hampered somewhat by me sorting through the titles to try and get a handle on categories first, and then going ‘Wow! Haven’t seen/heard this in ages!’ etc. But hey, it was a fun trip down memory lane - and it’s prompted me to slap about fifty long-forgotten favourite songs onto iPhone Dax. (Yes, she’s called Dax. Couldn’t call her Bob - Bob is for iPods. Could have called her Kate, I suppose - isn’t Bob short for Kate anyway?)

Billy Joel is coming to Hong Kong in November - we already have tickets and can we wait? Can we bloody hell as like. It’s going to be fantastic, fantastic, fantastic, as John Barrowman would say. We went off to see the World Classic Rockers at the FCC charity Ball this Saturday gone, too - but that’s a reeeeeaaally long story…

Peach and lube, everyone. It’s good to be back online. Now we’ve just got a couple of days left before it’s ‘Supernatural’ time…

Tags:
Mid-Autumn Festival ~ Hong Kong ~ moving

Be right back

Got a hyowj raging cold (at the height of Hong Kong summer no less: work that one out).

It’s Mid-Autumn Festival on Sunday, which means we get Monday off in lieu (YAY!).

The Hadron Collider is about to swirl us all into a black hole.

Record distributors are now suing babies that dance to Prince.

Are we really going to get a Doctor Who movie?

I’ve left Dean Winchester in a fantastically tense cliff-hanger in the most recent chapter of my latest ‘Supernatural’ fan-fic - but that’s ok, he’s used to getting himself into tight spots (arf arf!). I’m sure he can hold on till I’m back online and able to get him out of it again.

All of this is all very interesting (or not), but the important thing is that this will be my last post until PCCW can get me plumbed in at my new address. Should be Tuesday. If not, there will be blood.

So here’s a pic to be getting on with:



See you ont other side.

Sheer Laziness

Yup, just really lazy right now. Mostly cos 9 vodkas don't really do much for your urgency factor.

A new update has been released, however. It's over there.

Yeah, alright, so it's a dropship compared to this Sulaco, but I'm really too pisht / tired to go into detail. As my mam used to say: "Be told."

You know where to find me.

Soopytwist!

Not buying an iPhone: you’re doing it wrong

Yeah, finally caved and bought the damn 3G thing. There have been some nice surprises, not least of all the fact that the battery lasts longer than I had previously witnessed on other people’s models. There are little things that niggle, like the extremely basic SMS function that doesn’t appear to have separate viewable folders or a set of templates. A set of fixed folders for sorting messages might no longer be the done thing, so perhaps my adherence to an out of date structure shows that even though I’m a Mac user, I’m having trouble making the leap to a new kind of phone platform.

Have I grown so inflexible that I find this new streamlined SMS style lacking? For someone that, up until last night, regarded herself as pretty open-minded, I’m being incredibly parochial. Throwing my toys out of my pram cos I can’t see things as they used to be is just, well, juvenile, I suppose. And as I let myself ditch the old ways and get used to how organised, forward-thinking people do it, I find the new filing system for SMS is much more convenient anyway.

Talking of throwing toys from prams, the entire pram nearly went arse over tit when I noticed that you’re not supposed to be able to add your own ringtones or message tones to the factory-fitted stock. Getting a grip on reality is essential; this kind of pouty, whiny behaviour is just indicative of a lack of perspective. Especially when I find this piece of software does exactly what it says on the tin. Within ten minutes of trialing it I had the mighty Zeppelin back where they should be. Sorted. Now all I need is a way to import my own message tones... I miss Dean Winchester’s “poke it in the eye!”, but I could go for the always-amusing double-whamminess of both brothers’ “Jesus Christ - holy crap!” However, this is a little more difficult than simply getting round non-US iTunes ringtones playlists. This seems to involve a little jail-breaking and SSH’ing to get what you want. All this techno-effort, to be honest, has never stopped me before. I have taken the liberty of downloading Cyberduck. Just have to work out how to use it properly. Give me some time. I’ll have The Boys back on my message tone eventually.

And then there’s the tiny shiny moment where you’re moaning that the new Apple earphones aren’t exactly like your trusty Panasonic in-ear ones. And then, on a whim, you plug them into your iMac and find you can use the earphones and built-in mic to have a spiffingly private conversation on Skype. Bonus.

But buying an iPhone is only half the story; what with the huge surge in black market phones and iPods, it’s imperative we owners find a way to stop the thieving gehts from, one, getting their greasy mits on them in the first place, and two, being able to do owt with them after the fact.

There are many ideas about how to render an iPhone unusable, should it fall into the wrong hands. However, I’d love to try this one. The idea of SSH'ing your own phone to send shut-down commands or freak out the new recipient so that s/he dumps it at a police station is an exercise in revenge I would not be able to resist. Again with the having to get to grips with Cyberduck, I think...

Peach and lube then.

Tags:
Apple ~ iPhone ~ iMac ~ Skype ~ ringtones ~ Cyberduck ~ SSH