Geeks of’t world unite ~ against shite!

O my dog. No wait, O my frog and dog. You would not believe the absolutely appalling shite we’ve had to endure on Star World this week. Not only have they stopped showing ‘Psych’ fert Sunday omnibus, they’ve also subjected us to such fucking shite as some American thing called ‘Who Wants To Be a Superhero?’

I ask you. Are we not bombarded wi’ enough shite already, that they have to come up with some bollocks about pretending to be a comic book superhero – fer real? I mean, come on. Whatever happened to writing new shit? Why do we have to put wi’ recycled crap to fill the timetable? Can we have a new series, please? One that’s not derivative of that famous one, or that ground-breaking one, of a month / week / year ago?

I’m the first to admit that I love watching ‘Supernatural’ – fert Jensen Ackles quotient, some would scathingly say.

But I argue it’s fer all them bits of The X-Files we never got to see cos Scully / someone were looking ‘the other way’ at time.

However you slice it, surely it’s derivative of ‘The X-Files’ or some such shite that’s come before. Fair enough.

I’m a sci-fi geek – anyone who reads this will tell you that. Star Trek: Deep Space Nine? I’m there. Babylon Five: get tae fuck. Firefly: I’m there wi bells on. Star Wars: only the first – original – three will do (alright, that’s episodes 4, 5 and 6 fert fellow-geeks). Doctor bloody Who: Two, a wee bit of Five, or Nine, or hyowj great lashings of Ten will do it. Red Dwarf: early eps = in. Films like ‘Alien’ and the sequel ‘Aliens’ : I’m in (‘Alien 3’: no. Good concept done horribly wrong – same as the film version of ‘Stargate’).

Point is, I like sci-fi, grew up on it (‘The Pretender’, ‘Quantum Leap’, ‘The Outer Limits’, ‘Tales From the Crypt’, ‘The Twilight Zone’, to blame but a few), and still love it to bits. But that dunt mean I have to put wi this shite just cos someone thought it’d be a good idea to try and re-package ‘America’s Next Top Model’ while taking a wild leap at back of the money-making train that is ‘Heroes’.

So where does that leave ‘Who Wants To Be A Superhero?’ Ont shit heap, where it deserves to be. Sorry, ‘Stan the Man’ Lee, it’s one step beyond, and in me madness, I refuse to leap. Call me reserved, or staid, or just plain sane, but I’m not going for it. It’s American public lapping up any old shite – as me purr old mate Mr * will attest.

However, in me geekness I do have to read this, stroke me chin, and wonder, just fert moment, if it’s going to be fantasmagorically excellent, or complete shite: Simon Pegg fer Scotty! We shall have to wait and see, methinks…

Believe it or not, everyone’s going to get a ‘peach and lube’ today. Cos it’s Sunday, we’re off to see 'Aida' at the Hong Kong Cultural Centre in about three hours’ time, and I’ve just bought the boxed DVD set of Supernatural. How made-up am I? I think you can guess.

Peach and lube, then.

Tags:
TV ~ Psych ~ superhero ~ Supernatural ~ Jensen Ackles ~ The X-Files ~ Scully ~ Star Trek ~ DS9 ~ Babylon Five ~ Farscape ~ Firefly ~ Star Wars ~ Doctor Who ~ Alien ~ Stargate ~ The Pretender ~ Quantum Leap ~ Heroes ~ Stan Lee ~ Simon Pegg ~ Aida

Illegitimi non carborundum?

Right. I’ve been nice. I’ve done my best. I’ve tried. I’m not int mood to be nice anymore. Today I am eev-il Soupy, like fru-its of the dev-il. I’ve had enough. I’m not putting up wi’ it.

In a word: students.

Example A:
Four year old brat who finds it funny to bite me on the hand. Lucky I have my Tetanus jab up to date, isn’t it? And when I snap and shout “NO!” at him, I get his mother complaining because I frightened the little fucker. Excuse me? To whom do I complain that the wee carnivorous shit has bitten me? Are kids allowed to bite teachers now? And I’m not talking the nip on the arse that wee Jack used to do for fun, like a puppy and its favourite slipper. No, I’m talking proper teeth on bone, intentional-pain biting. So I’ve shouted at him, he’s ran out the classroom wailing, and I’ve felt much more relaxed. Until the complaint.

Riiiiiiight. I want to complain then. No wait, I just never want to see the fucking annoying little goit again, seeing as he’s about as stable as a yo-yo and spends all his time squealing like a stuck pig because someone’s accidentally touched his elbow. Which is because he’s already sprawled over the table like it’s all too much. Well screw him, and screw the whole fucking system. I’m sick of it. I swear to any gods and any of their brothers, if one more kid slaps, bites or kicks me “for fun”, I shall punt them through the plate glass window. Let’s see how funny it is with my foot up their arse, shall we?

Example B:
A rather rotund student comes in, and has been one of mine for a while. She sits down and her mother waves at her through the window as usual. We start the lesson. Halfway through, the admin. assistant knocks on the door and asks if I’ve two minutes just to explain the last report for the mam. As the kids are int middle of a grammar exercise, I leave ‘em to it and go to talk to her. Her English is ok and we discuss how to help Little Rotund One in between lessons. I go back int lesson, finish it, and everything’s fine. When Little Rotund One comes back the following week, she says (and I quote): “My mother say you is very nice for such a fat girl.”

Now, far be it for me to go on about sizes in Hong Kong, but let’s start with manners, shall we? Normally I shrug off these comments – yeah, a five foot eight bird weighing twelve stone must be a shock to anorexic ‘normal’ sized birds in Hong Kong, and I’m used to clumsy translations where people are rude when they don’t mean to be. What gets at me is the way this mother’s kid – who let’s face it, could do wi’ a diet far more than I could – has seen fit to voice these comments to her kid int first place. So instead of the usual sarcastic ‘thank you’ that I trot out, I instead went for the barbed alternative:
“That’s because fat people actually take the time to develop a pleasant and interesting personality, where as thin people in this town tend to be shallow and obnoxious with no manners. I know which one will have more friends.”

Yeah, ok, so I had to bite my tongue after that cos I felt really rude coming out with this to a bunch of twelve-year-olds, but please, let me off. If one more kid tells me I’m the fattest person they’ve seen in their life, I’ll go home and watch TV instead of wasting my time trying to teach ‘em proper bloody social behaviour and conversation skills.

It’s not the comment about being fat that annoys me. It’s actually the lack of manners. I am staggered at just how bald-faced some people can be about how they treat people in Hong Kong. I know it’s the same all over, but sometimes I feel like I’m the only one teaching kids to say ‘thank you’ and ‘excuse me’ to squeeze through the crowd of people on an MTR platform, rather than just barging through like no-one else exists.

You know what? Fuck it.

Maybe I should start barging into people, stepping on other people’s feet at every opportunity, and pushing people out of my way. It’s my turn.

I’m off now to mix about 90% vodka wi’ 10% orange juice.
And watch gratuitous amounts of ‘Psych’ and ‘Supernatural’ till I feel better.

Summat tells me a combination of James Roday and Jensen Ackles will make me feel so much better… Dean Winchester in a big car wi’ a big gun? That’s girlie porn, that is…


And then there’s always this piece of uplifting news to, er, uplift me.

Soopytwist. No bugger’s getting peach nor lube tonight.

Tags:
Hong Kong ~ teaching ~ students ~ MTR ~ Psych ~ James Roday ~ Supernatural ~ Jensen Ackles ~ vodka

HELLO!

I’ve been sick this week. Not proper sick, just another infection brought on by not drinking enough water and having Coke wi me vodka and not orange juice. Orange juice still counts as a fruit, right? Goes through the body like food, so bloody well should do.

Just a quick old-Virgin-Radio-Chris-Evans-breakfast-show-type HELLO! to everyone I’ve ignored this past week:

To Fiat X1/9 Man, who actually flashed his lights up and down at me as I crossed the street this very night: ‘Ow do.
To Restaurant Carry-Oot Lady, who always bawls a 'good evening' at me across the street: Hi.
To our alternating security guards, who always press the correct lift button for me when I get int building of an evening: Ta, and how’s yerself?
Johnny Behind-the-bar: I’ll be back next week, soon as these anti-biotics are safely out o me system.
To me big sis, who’s handling Important Matters of Family for everyone like a trooper: Alright?
To me wee sister, who’s always scouring local shops fert ‘Doctor bloody Who’ crap to send me: ‘ello poppet.
To me other wee sister, who’s turning her nose up at ‘Doctor bloody Who’ and being normal, to set an example for me: what’s wi’ the Nissan Bluebird?
To Granny W, who’s on holiday and hopefully having a great time in Crete, or Cairo, or Cardiff, wherever it is she went (hey, they all begin wi’ C, they’re easy to mix up, alright?): Hi baebe.
To me students: no, this int me and yer not to repeat the naughty language you see here.
And everyone else who knows me. Ta.

And now for summat completely different: the Haynes Manual on Setting Up IDD Calling Ont Mobile Phones (Especially 3G) in Hong Kong.

Step 1:
Call the 3G helpline and find there are no real people attached. Press any button wrongly three times and get put through to the only actual live person int building.
Step 2:
Ask them to set up IDD calling to foreign lands far far away. Get told to set up an AutoPay (DD) first.
Step 3:
Go to the 3G shop int high street and attempt to set up AutoPay. Get told to take a form to the bank to do it.
Step 4:
Take form to bank. Get told numptie int shop hasn’t filled in the consolidation code int bottom corner.
Step 5:
Take form back to 3G shop. Ask for missing code number. Get told you don’t need one cos yer not a corporate customer.
Step 6:
Take form back to bank and assure Nice Lady yer absolutely and positively sure you don’t need a corporate consolidation code, and if it dunt mean owt to the bloke in the 3G shop, it dunt mean owt to you, neither.
Step 7:
Sign form and then get told it takes FOUR WEEKS to implement AutoPay.

Four weeks? Four weeks? Are you shitting me? What does it actual involve, setting up a direct bloody debit? Trekking across the Sahara? Physically walking backwards and forwards from’t bank to shop wi little chits? Well I’ve done that, all in half an hour, so don’t come that. It absolutely staggers me that the same bank that can send money to another country within six hours of receiving my form takes four weeks just to set up a direct debit from a Hong Kong company whose head office is only in Kowloon anyway. I could walk BACKWARDS and swim myself across the harbour, and still have it stamped and sorted before tomorrow.

Gah.

I need more tea, obviously. In the absence of any alcohol, it’s the next best thing.

That’s yer onion. No, shallot (ba-doom-boom-tsshh!). Have to battle on through ‘Doctor bloody Who’ fanfic number 10, which is giving me trouble like you wouldn’t believe. Mostly cos it just keeps becoming more and more epic in proportions. Seriously dude, 32,000 words already and still no exciting climax in sight? This is going to end up a novel, I can see it coming.

Anyway, I’ll love you and leave you wi’ the newly updated Wallpapers of the Week, and go back to dreaming of November ~ Aaron Kwok concerts, ‘Doctor bloody Who’ series three on shiny new DVD, and the music too, and of course, one whole month closer to Chinese New Year, and me sojourn to the beaches of Boracay.

Soopytwist.

Tags:
Hong Kong ~ Fiat ~ IDD ~ Aaron Kwok ~ 郭富城 ~ Doctor Who ~ fanfiction ~ Boracay