Thieved from vandonovan:

The Rules:
Answer each of the questions below using the Flickr Search engine.
Choose a photo from the first three pages.
Copy the URL of your favorite photo into this site:
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Save mosaic to some form of photo hosting thing and share with the world.

1. First Name
2. Favorite Food
3. Hometown
4. Favorite Color
5. Celebrity Crush
6. Favorite Drink
7. Dream Vacation
8. Favorite Dessert
9. What I Want To Be When I Grow Up
10. What I Love Most In The World
11. One Word That Describes Me
12. My LiveJournal Name

( teh pretty )

Please note that flickr's suggestion for the non-existent pics of pontisbright was 'pantsuit'. The LJ name change is powerful tempting. :D

I will do a proper post soon. I will. Really. Mostly, it will be about how I am watching The Web Planet and it is no way as rubbish as I was led to believe. Flying furry giant bee people! Vaseline on the lens to indicate alienness! Some people whose costumes are so badly designed they can only hop! Also Hartnell being absolutely hilarious, and Vicki being EVEN MORE BRAINIER THAN BABS. Gosh.

Also, I would like LJ to have not eaten the bit of code that makes links a different colour in my layout, because it is confusing the crap out of me.

AHAHAHAHAHAHA.

In other news: am not dead.  Though have been a bit busy with, er, a thing.  And having a massive existential crisis, about which I shall probably blether at some point (short version: I'm quite fantastically stupid), hence not being about very much lately.  I gather Who fandom is having a racewank, though.  Must be Tuesday.

Naturally I have fitted in some television, anyway.

( Supernatural S4 (eps 1-4) )

( Merlin )

( The Restaurant )
( Sarah Jane Adventures )

( 1970s coptastic loooove )

I am going to the pub in a bit.  Woo.

Yay Merlin!

( spoilery )

Today I went for a walk along the canal, and was accosted by a pirate who was collecting for Cancer Research.  Last week the person in front of me in the queue in Sainsbury's was wearing chainmail.  Real life is quite confusing. 

"Ms Rowling had originally supported the Lexicon website, but she said there was a difference between fans publishing information for free on the internet, and selling it in the form of a book."

Y HALO THAR, Torchwood man!  And yes, I know, different country = different laws, and LJ entries =/= popular wizard novels (well, depending on who you read), but still, not entirely unrelevant, no?  I haven't read all the OG reactions or all the author's defensive ripostes (though there's some v interesting stuff about fanboys vs fangirls/forums vs LJ etiquette from calapine  and co here), but the overarching issue seems to be the same: that fundamentally t'Internets and Books What Are Permanent And Purchasable are different things, with different rules.  I almost want one of the quoted people to go chasing Torchwood Man in court, purely for the LOLs.  (And the educational factor, of course.  I know what a 'Flint' is now, thanks to SVA, and am confident this will be very useful in my old age.)

One request: internet, stop slowly turning into one very large Fandom Wank, would you?  Or (bearing in mind that Twilight isn't even out yet) at least wait till I've got sod all else to do?

Back from holiday. Sense of sunkissed zen somewhat crumpled by 12 hours of travelling on succession of manky buses/planes/mankier buses. Have had cup of tea now, though. Mmm, tea.

Tell me stuff what has happened? I have been internetless for 10 days: given that in my absence British people seem to have become good at sport, I hardly dare imagine what LJ has been up to. Linkiness?

ORANGINA MARKETING DUDE: It's a drink. An orange drink. A juice-based orange drink, full of natural goodness, and slightly carbonated, but only slightly, so it tastes a little like it's only fizzy because something unpleasant has happened during the processing and drinking it may kill you. Plus bits! Orangey bits! Not like a Jaffa Cake, though. Their orangey bit is 'smashing'. Ours are...kind of gritty. But they like that, the Europeans.
AD DUDE: Uh-huh.
ORANGINA MARKETING DUDE: So we need an ad that sums up all of that. But in a sexy way.
AD DUDE: Sexy carbonated poison grit?
ORANGINA MARKETING DUDE: Yup. Though we don't want Joe Vanilla drinking our carbonated poison grit. We want to push the envelope! Think outside the box! Blue-sky the pumpkin thermometer!
AD DUDE: Mmmkay.

I cannot believe this was just on my television, honestly, there are no words

:D

OK, first up: ignore all the wank in the papers and online about the play being ruined by fans, the actors being mobbed, sci-fi killing srs theatre etc. The audience had a handful more teenagers in it than the norm, but was otherwise the standard matureish/middle classish mix that Stratford usually attracts. No one behaved inappropriately in the theatre, before, during, or after the performance. Yep, there was a crowd afterwards at the stage door of about 100 people (far more than I've ever seen before, but not that unusual for a high-profile cast): yep, there was one little shriek from a couple of girls at the front, but most of the people lining up (all with programmes from the play: didn't see anyone with Who/Trek merch) were blokes aged 20+. Tennant (well, I assume it was him: I'm short) signed for about 5 minutes, made everyone giggle, and then retired inside again - at which point everyone wandered off again quite happily. All thoroughly civilised. So can we ditch the ridiculous speculation on this topic by people who've read one tabloid and decided fandom is embarrassing itself again?

*clears throat*

So: Hamlet, with David Tennant and Patrick Stewart and, er, Trexx from Trexx and Flipside...

( to cut or not to cut, that is the question: quite detailed about the production, though, if you don't want to know that sort of thing )

Now I know how all those people who didn't like Act III of Dr Horrible felt.

FONT CONFERENCE! Completely hilarious viral-type thingy about fonts, which managed to be a joke designed especially for pontisbright until...oh, I cannot even speak of it. But I suspect I shan't be alone in being utterly horrified by the ending? Please? Tis a bit like fandom, where you spend a little while going 'eee, other people who like what I like instead of finding it esoteric to the point of alarm!' and then you discover that otherwisecharming!Bob hates on Troughton. Does this mean there is font fandom? Helvetica/Felix Titling OTP 4EVA.

In other news, I apologise for my inexplicable downer on Blake's 7 S2. Have now resumed Space Panto = Glee mode, thanks to Shadow (little blobs of glass that walk! Cally inna box! Avon and Blake and Jenna in white looking so much like the Bee Gees it made me start singing at the telly!) and Weapon, which (despite the rubbishness of Trav 2: boo, I say, boo!) is bloody magnificent. The Lobster Suit was all I had heard and more. And Carnell...oh heavens...

OK, so, let's just pretend I got round to actually writing a shedload of squee posts about all of B7 season 1. In them I observed how very much I did love it all, especially Servalan and Travis being completely brilliant at one another, and Blaaaaake actually being weirdly attractive (in a lumbering sort of way), and Avon filling the world with lols (sometimes intentionally), and Vilavilavilailovehimso, and how, really, any show where that prompts an 'ooh, is that Carol Royle?' is going to bring the happy round at Pontisbright Towers. (I may have skimmed over the intense boringness of Jenna and how much Cally needs a sandwich. But I skimmed over even these things with love.)

Aaaaaanyway, now am on S2. And...um...

( 29-year-old spoilers, oh noes )

Dear Facebook,

( I see what you did there. )

Do not objectify him, people.

(But srsly, facebook, if you could actually arrange that, y'know...?)

kisses,
Me

Bloody hell, Bonekickers is shocking. It takes a special effort to make telly that badly. I'm vaguely reminded of Strange, which was another case of the wrong people being given a nice budget and a passable idea and pissing it up the wall, but at least they were occasionally amusing about it. *sighs*

KNIGHTS OF GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!



Why yes, that is BLAKE AND TWO. HANGING OUT. IN WALES. MY CAPSLOCK IS ENTIRELY JUSTIFIED.  Bonus Trout in comments for the unbelievers!

How the hell did I never see this at the time? 1987, ITV, crazypants Nazis from 'Anglia' in black helicopters trying to defeat the citizens of 'the north' while being harassed by Welsh rebels. (CASTING GARETH THOMAS AS A WELSH GUNRUNNING REBEL? CRIVENS!) There are 13 episodes and I've only seen one, but we've already had:

• awesome credits with a burning Union flag and some marching jackboots
• Julian Fellowes (with hair!)
• a youthful Welsh hero called Gervase, who is now pretending to be called Llewellyn Ap Griffiths to prove how completely and entirely Welsh and heroic he is
• a quarry
• the only kid in the entire story getting killed off, despite this being kids' telly
• Paul 'The Castellan' Jerrico
• Nigel 'old bloke in loads of things including Time-Flight' Stock
• the immortal line 'You will go to Caernarfon when I tell you and not before!'
• BLAKE AND THE TROUT OMG

They're being v careful not to make it into anti-English nationalist propaganda, though.  Apart from the big where a chapel full of Welsh rebels who've been commanded by the Knights of God to bow before the nation of Anglia all stand up and sing 'Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau' instead, before being herded into trucks to take them to the 're-education' camps.  I've simply no idea what they were getting at there.

Has anyone else seen this wondrous thing?  I'd never even heard of it till kind friend sent me a dodgy tv rip. I foresee many happy hours of not going to Caernarfon in my future.

For those who read my earlier dream post, ( spoilery for those who are avoiding that sort of thing )

And here are some incoherent thoughts ( which are also spoilery obviously )

I dreamed the Who finale. If you are already quietly mocking me, you really have no idea...

( my not-especially-likely version of Journey's End )

I would like none of those to happen this evening, please. And also for no spoilery things in the comments, if you should feel the need to comment on my very insightful and not at all humiliating dream. I wish I didn't even know the small spoileriness I do know. OH BLIMEY I AM UNREASONABLY EXCITED.

...did you know we were hilarious comic creations?'

*headdesks repeatedly for several days*

As if I didn't already need to eat my own head today.  Where is the chocolate?  Where is the chocolate?  Where is the chocolate? Jinkies McFucksicle, LJ, sort out this fucking problem with Firefox3 before I stab something, yeah?
ETA: The chocolate is now in my tummy. Which is lucky as, I shit ye not, a BLOODY HUGE MOTH flew into the oven while I was cooking dinner and died a blackened crispy garlic death in my courgettes. *whimpers*

Am house-sitting in house with cat in it, again. 

Me: *sits down to watch SPN finale again*
Cat: *intently watches season recap*
Cat: *turns away in disgust*
Me: *ignores*
Cat: *stares at me with face an inch from my nose, with expression of ultimate disapproval*
Me: *ignores, despite mild sense of shame*
Cat: *curls up in lap, sulking*
Me: *ignores*
Cat: *surreptitiously turns head so as to see screen of laptop, despite affecting air of total disinterest in Jensen Ackles*
Cat: *is unexpectedly unimpressed with notion of hitting pause*
Cat: *crawls onto keyboard and attempts to hug screen*

Truly, there is no creature alive immune to Dean Winchester.

Operation: Procure Feline needs to shift up a gear.  Watching telly with a cat is more loltastic than I had given it credit.

(BTW, UK Supernatural people - ITV2 is showing Ghostfacers on Sunday night, as a 'special' ep.  So presumably just that one, not the other three.  I have no idea.)

Very briefly:

I'm 'watching' a film called Bats on Film4.  The little in-visiony Freeview thing tells me: 'A Texan town is threatened by bats made ultra-aggressive by a virus and only a lovely zoologist and a redneck sheriff can stop them in this cult horror'.  You're jealous now, aren't you?  Mmm, lovely zoologists.

It seems to have Lou Diamond Phillips in it.  When not-quite-Brat-Pack actors go bad. :(

For some reason, this reminds me of being in the US in...1997?  We briefly stayed with a nice lady who let me have free rein on her remote control, and it was like having a telly FROM SPAAAAACE because she had cable.  Possibly loads of people in the UK had satellite TV by then, but I think at home we just had 4 channels (ooh, wikipedia correction: Five launched in 97, though it was rightly described as 'UK Tits And Nazis' at the time and I'm fairly sure it was all fuzzy where I lived).  I recall being mesmerised by the very notion of an onscreen EPG, since it bespoke of enough channels to actually warrant one.  I grew up when you had to buy one magazine to find out what was on BBC1 and BBC2, and one for ITV, and they used to play the national anthem at the end of the evening after all the telly had finished, in case you felt like being especially royalist at that time of night.  And then we crept upstairs by candlelight, hoping there would be enough powdered egg and Camp coffee to go round at breakfast.

At this point I should probably make some insightful comment about multi-channel television and quality programming.  But all I can think is 'if I'd seen Bats on her EPG in 1997, I would totally have chosen to watch that'.

UNEXPECTED JIM ROBINSON!

In other less pleasing news,

Also: if it could stop pissing it down at some point this week, that would probably really improve my mood. :(

• Derren Brown is actually evil.  I missed the beginning, but tying people up, putting them in sacks, and dropping them in a lake?  EEEEEEK.
• Peep Show is capable of being funny this season after all.  About rapeyness.  I am disturbed by my own sense of humour.
• Ray Winstone now looks like Willie Rushton.

This is why I should have a social life and not be at home, presumably.

It appears to be Inadvertent Turlough Day on LJ: yay!  (Which makes me feel a bit better about having accidentally ended up reccing on calufrax in a week where I'm mostly not anywhere near my computer.  Poop.)