Do the door joke again, I dare you

So I was full-on Dean-blubbing about giving up writing. Well boo-friggin’-hoo. Got it together now, and we’re off! Yes folks, I’m back writing like an infinite number of monkeys re-writing Shakespeare. Be greatly afear’t, as I give you my latest:


“When Is A Seal NOT A Seal?”
Rating: Rated T for language and a little unpleasantness concerning knives later on.
Summary:
SPOILERS FOR S4, up to 4x14. Knives and lives, songs and wrongs, bitches and stitches - and not necessarily in that order. An old friend needs The Boys. But as usual, it isn’t as simple as it first appears.
The OC is my own. They originally appeared in ‘A Helluva Level O’ Malevolence’. This story is not a sequel - the character just re-appears (by popular request. Thanks, you readers, you!).
Posted first (as always) at SPNVille.net.
Disclaimer:
I do not own the TV show ‘Supernatural’ either in whole or in part, but I wish I could write episodes full time. Or get a life. Or both.
Linky-link-link:







Tags:
Supernatural~ fan-fic ~ the mighty DW ~ the - er - yeah, SW

Two words

Denny. Crane.




Tags:
Boston Legal ~ William Shatner

Spotted in Central

Does this look like spam?

Ok, what's going on with Google mail? Why has it been putting some of my mates' mails in my spam folder? These mates are frequent conversation partners and have never been bumped by me to the spam folder - so what gives? How and why did I come to discover half of mail was not being read by me?

Interesting that you should ask (not you, the other me. The one that reads this and wonders why I can't spell). Suddenly, within the last week, I've had close to 15 spam mails a day arriving in my spam folder. These are the usual obvious bits of shite - penis enhancements (either mine's so small or I don't seem to have one - but everyone keeps sending me these, so perhaps I should get one), viagra, National Bank of Scamsville trying to give me money, churches in China trying to give me money, National Lottery winning notifications, yadda yadda yadda.

I used to get about three a week. Now I'm attracting the kind of numbers of which the entire population of Hong Kong Island would be proud. It's not funny, or big, or clever. And it's not normally a problem - until I find I have to wade through them to check if I've missed an actual, real mail - from someone on my contact list.

So my apologies if anyone's tried to get hold of me and your mail's been binned by my spam folder's over zealous attempt at clearing up the town of Utter Crapton, but I don't even know who you are or what I've missed. Annoying.

In other news, that lovely fluffy gangly huhh! mountain of muscle, Jared Padalecki, has a new film out today. As I promised him in LA that I would see it should it finally make it to a cinema over here, I have tickets for Saturday night. I look forward to it not being in 3D so I can actually focus on the pictures, instead of pretending I'm not the only one in the theatre whose brain does not do 3D on film.

Peach and lube, people.

Whut?

So I'm watching Boston Legal and it's the season one episode where the great Denny Crane, consumed with worry over possible Alzheimer's, is taking a kind of amphetamine, as prescribed by his psychiatrist. His psychiatrist. Really?

Cos I'm thinking places in the UK just tell you that you have a cold and send you home. So what if you have actual dementia that they can help prevent? So what if you have a dedicated, soul-mate of a husband and four kids who need you? So what if they can spare all of your family - including extended members - the pain, misery, heartbreak, anguish, hurt, torture, need for therapy, and, lest we forget - YOUR OWN MENTAL HEALTH AND SENSE OF WHO YOU FUCKING ARE - by getting a proper diagnosis and therefore, treatment? Who cares when they can spare the national health service of the UK (which you paid into until you could no longer work) a couple of quid by getting shot of your case file?

I don't know whether to be angry or raging. I'm going to go with raging. Not for me, or members of my family who have been through this. Oh no.

But for people who are about to go through this, when they shouldn't have to.

I am sorry. Really. Cos I know how it turns out.

This is not about the show that is Boston Legal, or the fact that they missed out that, if Denny Crane stops taking this prescription - and if in fact, he had actual Alzheimer's - he would not have the wit, the humour, the personality that Alan Shore himself bemoaned losing. Let's not go there. Let's watch the next episode, with a little vodka, so we can sleep and forget that nasty, deep-dark hole we leapt over, Indiana Jones style. 

Yes, let's.

Soopytwist.

Shows

Should really make an effort to blog more. You know what it is? A combination of things - writing fan-fiction (now I’m over my emo-moment and realise I can’t live without it), in need of decent speech-to-text software for Mac OSX that doesn’t cos me a few limbs (tell me what you use, people, please!), time, real life, and oh yeah, watching too much TV.

This used to be too much for me - watching TV, that is. I mean, I’m a person who does things ont small side. Small circle of friends. Small flat. Spartan possessions, iMac without tower, iPhone cos it’s pretty much my life in a smallish brick, yadda yadda yadda. Basically, I have a narrowed view, cos let’s face it, I have the attention span of a gnat and find it hard to remember what happened in last week’s show and keep all the characters in my immediate memory.

But it’s time to ‘fess up to certain shows as I like to watch fert entertainment purposes. Of course, we all know I’m a bit of a ‘Doctor bloody Who’ obsessive, that goes without saying. And ‘Supernatural’, of course. And ‘Firefly’. And ‘The X-Files’. And ‘Star Trek: Deep Space Nine’. And ‘Red Dwarf’. And a million other shows I’ve forgotten to add - those we know. And I have mentioned past transgressions, for which I’ve been severely lambasted: ‘Moonlighting’ and ‘Remington Steele’. So you can see a clear pattern here: mysteries, gumshoes, whodunnits, sci-fi, creature-features. So the next few shows should come as no surprise.

Except I was. I mean, there I am, taking a relaxed trawl through the homepage of the mighty Bruce Campbell for news of when we can expect DVDs of the film ‘My Name Is Bruce’ when I find he’s now working on a series for a network in America - namely, ‘Burn Notice’. Couldn’t let that go, right? Had to find out what that was all about. So I got hold of season one and went through it like Dean Winchester with a fresh bottle of JD. Loved it. Jeffery Donovan (younger brother Kyle from ‘The Pretender’, anyone?) was ace, and I love his deadpan, instructional delivery (“When you’re being watched what you need is contrast, a background that will make the surveillance stand out. An FBI field office is full of guys in their foyers: at most South Beach business hotels, it would be tough to tell which middle-aged white guy is watching you. So you stay in the place where everyone is a jello-shot away from alcohol poisoning. If you see someone who can walk a straight line, that’s the Fed.”). He’s fun when he gets into it, he can do a decent piss-take at a learnt cockney’d to hell accent, and he’s refreshing eye candy (arms, people, arms). Bruce Campbell is amazing, as always - and in season two he’s definitely getting some good lines. A winner. Every week it’s like ‘The A-Team’ or even a bit of ‘MacGyver’ - except it’s about spies and gits who want you dead. And the yoghurt is a nice touch. Once you get to know Michael Western, you too take umbrage when someone steals his fridge or shoots at him without having the decency to pretend to sell him summat first.

So yeah, lovin’ ‘Burn Notice’ long time. Just getting into season two just now, but I know it’s going to be a keeper.

Another series that should come as no surprise (given that I like ‘Moonlighting’ and ‘Supernatural’) is ‘Psych’. Shawn is the excellent fun, Gus is just the fabbest comic foil ever. The rather high coincidence rate of ‘Supernatural’ guest stars turning up in the show freaks me out, naturally, but the show always keeps me laughing every single episode. There’s a dozen great lines in every one, and to be honest, I’m trying my hardest to get through season two so I can catch up with season three - ready for the new season four coming this summer. See? It’s hard being a TV watcher.

Which brings me to the last one: a show that is by no means least, a show that has had me grinning and rewinding nearly as much as a ‘Supernatural’ episode: ‘Castle’. It stars personal favourite Nathan Fillion as a pulp fiction detective writer. We get the bird from ‘24’ (must have been season one if I saw it) as a copper who’s actually pretty good, but there’s a weirdo case involving re-enactments of murders from a series of books… Bring in Richard Castle (Fillion) as a consultant, and the show just whips you along. It’s ace. It’s funny. It’s what Nathan Fillion fans have been waiting for - an actual lead in a show that is not pigeon-holed as sci-fi or ignored as ‘weird and Whendonesque’ (but actually? I love ‘Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog’ so much I bought it from iTunes). It just makes me giggle - and the supporting cast is great. The daughter Alexis (Molly Quinn) reminds me so much of Elizabeth Harnois (Piper from ‘Ten Inch Hero’) except it’s not her, obviously. But she’s ace - and so is her onscreen mother, Susan Sullivan. It just fits together well - and we get a juicy murder or two every week. How fab is that?

So that’s basically my excuse for not having blogged. Let me off, will you? If you do, I promise not to go about how I want a pineapple stress toy, or more hours in the day to arse about on Twitter.

Oh, and I did get my DVD of ‘My Name Is Bruce’. But that’s another story.

Peach and lube, everyone.

Tags:
Burn Notice ~ Bruce Campbell ~ Psych ~ Castle ~ Nathan Fillion

Do what?

So I go into the usual place to get my nails re-done this morning. It went summat like this:

Nail girl: Sorry for change your appointment away from 10am to 11am.
Me: Oh no, you’re alright, it gave me an extra hour in bed.
Nail girl: I always want to ask - is it you work from home?
Me: No, I always dress like this.
Pause.
Nail girl: What job do you do?
Me: I’ll give you three guesses.
Nail girl: Ah… computer writer? To make programmes?
Me: Oh. That’s a new one.
Nail girl: Because last time I give you the Cosmo magazine, and you ask for the Mac one, so I think you do this for a job.
Me: No, I’m just sad like that.
Pause.
Nail girl: You have a t-shirt shop?
Me: Nope. Don’t tell me, you’ve clocked the shirts I’ve worn in here in the past?
Nail girl: They are funny. [Points to Hitchhiker’s quote across my chest.]
Me: I like to think so. Makes the day more fun, don’t you think?
Nail girl: I like it. I give you my card, you call me and not the shop next time for your appointment.
Me: Oh. Er. Ok. I think.

Still. Good fun. Have to pick up me new Ray-Bans tomorrow so I can actually see the MTR signs from the platform, and I’ll be right.

In other news, I'm now on Twitter. I know, it's shite. It's useless. But it's like free text messages to everyone I usually blow my monthly 3 bill on. And I get to use a cool likeness.

I’m back!

Don’t worry - I know I’ve just spent the week in LA and I’ve had the best time seeing famous telly people and getting autographs and photographs etc., but I won’t be squeeeing about it here. It’ll all be over at the Buckets o’ Crazy site. Along with the pics me and my sister took. So relax, everyone, all I’ll go on about here is how crap the Marriott was, and how much better the cheaper Motel6 place was, and how US Immigration suck the big one in terms of getting people through the gate and actually into the sodding country (90 minutes. Yes, 90 minutes. I shit you not. Got back to HK and it took a grand total of 70 to get FROM THE PLANE TO MY FLAT).

Anyway, what’s going on? Oh, yeah - we saw two episodes of ‘Supernatural’ and then we were blind-sided with the fact that the show’s on yet another hiatus and won’t be back till 23rd April. Why Shakespeare’s attributed birthday? Who knows…

On a personal note, was having more feelings of giving up writing fiction, and actually did go so far as to put everything into a zipped file, back it up on DVD and then put it all away. I actually spring-cleaned all writing files from my Jarvis II (my amazing iMac) and determined I was not going to open them up again, that it was all over.

Had my holiday and my fingers were itching after about three days. Got home to my flat at about 10a.m., unpacked, made a hot fresh pot of real tea, had a hot shower, adjusted to the fact that I’d lost 15 hours on the plane (took off on time, was one hour late getting in. I don’t know, and I don’t care, either) and then had to put my clock forward 15 hours too, and it was in Sunday without the benefit of having had Saturday first.

Did my washing, had some noodles (YAAAAAAAAYY!!) and settled down to take stock.

And then I realised I hadn’t changed my calendar from March to April. So I picked up March’s sheet and pulled it off, and underneath I found~~

PHWOOOOOAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!

Sorry. I found this:


Not bad, eh? There’s summat nice to come home to, and no mistake. I haven’t seen May’s page, and I refuse to peek. You never know what it might be. It’s one of those tiny ways I like to torture myself re: the possibilities being endless.

Anyway, what was I~~. Oh yes - by 4p.m. I was getting out my DVD of writing stuff and transferring my current Work In Progress back to my beloved Jarvis and re-reading the lot to see where I had got up to. So then I banged out about 2,000 words and realised that all I needed was the possibility it could be taken away, and then I wanted it back. Writing, I mean. So yeah, you can expect more fan-fiction of the ‘Supernatural’ variety in a few weeks, maybe less.

Shopping. I picked myself up Serenity from the Dark Horse Comic Store at Universal Studio’s Citywalk:


Yes, isn’t she lovely? Yes. AND SHE’S ALL MINE.

That’s about it, really. I’m apparently supposed to be having a shower and getting ready for work, or something. I think. Not really sure. Clock says it’s 11a.m., but is that morning or evening? Must be morning if there’s work in the very near future.

Soopytwist.

Tags:
Supernatural ~ LA ~ convention ~ Jensen Ackles ~ fan-fic ~ Serenity ~ Firefly

Don't panic!

I'm nearly home, honest. Just got to catch a plane in about 14 hours. Then sit on said plane for 13 hours. Put my watch forward 15 hours. Get off plane. Get to bus stop. Sit on bus and my Hong Kong morning speeding by to the choons on my iPod. Realise how glad I am to be home. Get to my flat by the bus stop. Make a hyowj cuppa tea. Have a hot shower. Sit down and unpack the goodies I bought from the convention. Call my mates. Watch some telly. Have some noodles (NOODLES! NOODLES! HOW I'VE MISSED YOU!) and get ready fert pub quiz.

Can't wait.

See you all very soon.