...way out on the corner of fucked up and evil...

So, before I start my traditional "it's payday so get thyself to ye olde internet cafe and pay off your credit card bill while swearing never to overindulge in spendthriftery ever again as long as you live, wench" missive, I would like to point out that if you don't read Philip Reeve's Larklight right away, you will burst into flames from lack of PURE AWESOME. Space! Space giant spiders! Space Queen Victoria! Space pirates! Space corsets! Space houses in space! It's full of greatness and space. It even has drawings. Truly, it could not be a better book even if it had Johnny Depp, and surely there can be no higher praise than that.

Christmas, while lacking in the third season of Miami Vice, was nonetheless a pleasent affair of not being at work, eating mince pies and watching such festive themed delights as the Thief Lord, (it has snow!) Doctor Who, (the Christmas Invasion, so it totally counts, and Fiyero is so blatently gay it is unbelievable) that episode of Bones where they all get locked in the lab on Christmas Eve and Dave gets high on antibiotics* and Hodgins is revealed to have a suprisingly good body for a ginger person... and then I got bored of Christmas and watched That 70s Show and Eerie, Indiana instead. And Fitzcairn was in That 70s Show, and I think it's a sign that God wants me to buy Highlander again. So it was fun, and quiet, and generally very joyous.

But then! Oh Boxing Day, the drama of it all. See, I had to work, but none of the buses were running. So I arranged to get a lift with one of the girls I work with, and I'm standing on a street corner at eight in the morning, freezing my ass off, when I am approached by a very large, very black, very heavily-accented man who asks me if I'm okay. So I say that yes, I'm fine, I'm just waiting for someone. So he asks if I'm working, and I reply that I am. And then he asks if I have a place we can go, apparently under the impression that ladies of the night work at eight in the morning on Boxing Day. No, no, say I, I didn't mean that sort of working. I'm waiting for a lift, for my job which is in an office. So he walks off some distance down the street, and I try to stop my knees from shaking and use my psychic powers to get Jayni out of bed. Alas, to no avail. Sleazy McUseswhores returns, and asks if he can have my number. I say that's not a good idea, and that I have a boyfriend. Sleazy replies that he could make me happy (because every woman wants a guy who uses prostitutes and assume that any unaccompanied female out in public must be on the game) and that I have beautiful long hair. I do that quick, panicky, "Oh God help me I'm going to be found raped and strangled in a ditch in Beeston and I know I said I'd do anything to get out of work but not this please Jayni hurry the fuck up!" equivilent of a smile, and Sleazy continues that perhaps I need a knight in shining armour to cut my hair for me, and at that point I fake a text message, babble an excuse and run all the way back to my house.

And then Jayni didn't show up at all, so I had to get a lift with another girl who didn't start until ten, and then I had to walk home from Horsforth and I got lost and ended up in about twenty million industrial estates, and then Holbeck, but eventually I got back so it was okay. And nobody else thought I was a hooker.

Anyway, that was pretty much the stand-out moment since I last wrote, and now I must go home and immerse myself in Torchwood, having done the traditional pay-day shopping trip and coffee with Hot Allocator Girl (whose number I have finally got, go me!) and perhaps do some Hoovering or similar domestic tasks. Although, probably not.

*And while we are on the subject of Dave, Snithy, I rewatched that scene with him and Goodman and their pillows were not touching so you just keep your filthification to yourself, thank you. Dave/Goodman is wrong. Because, the squints are like a super-awesome family in which Goodman is the Daddy and thus Dave/Goodman is incestuous and cross-generational and generally too horrible to contemplate.

BRAY LIVES! At least, he lived at some point in the recent past, according to Ickle KC, who is no longer Ickle and is in fact quite burly and hunksome. So that was a little spark of joy with which to end the last season of the Tribe.

In other news, work is horrible and one day soon I will kill everyone there. With fire! And monkeys! And fire-breathing monkeys made of fire! Or possibly I will just hand in my notice and run away to Spain or something. And send them a mocking postcard that then BURSTS INTO FLAMES AND BURNS THEM ALL TO DEATH.

On a lighter note, the German market is in town now, and I went on the carosel and it was Awesome! Although I did not get either younger or older, which makes me suspect that Cornelia Funke is telling porky-pies about the supposed magical quality of roundabouts. For shame, Cornelia Funke! Also, I am rereading the Aubrey-Maturin books and they are the most funniest thing ever and I can't believe I forgot how glee-inducing they could be.

Anyway, that's all the news I have for you this week; my dad came over on Sunday but it was boring so I shall not bore you with it, and I have decided to give American Gothic another chance and just TOTALLY IGNORE DOCTOR BILLY because Lucas's hair is so shiny and pretty and must be watched. Also Hyde was in it! And Lucas totally kicked his ass which means Lucas is cooler than Hyde, oh my God! In fact, I think I shall go buy mince pies and then go home and watch it Right Now. So good day to you, sirs!

If they made a modern-day remake of the A Team, LL Cool J would totally play BA. Richard Dean Anderson would be Hannibal, because hey, Jack O'Neill pretty much was Hannibal for the 90's, Topher Grace would be Murdock, and either Ashton Kutcher or Sean Williams Scott would play Face, depending on whether there was a way to fix Sean Williams Scott's horrible eyebrows.

Also, Bo Duke is not fat, and anyone who says different is going to find parts of their stupid little Spy Puggle strewn all over their bedroom floor when they come back off holiday.

I am highly disturbed by the fact that Ickle Midshipman Blakeney appears in Rome, not only sexin' the ladies (well, a lady. Of the night.), being accused of homosexual trysts and playing the future Emperor of Rome. To quote the immutable Brother Johnathan: "How is he supposed to rule the civilised world? He's only got one arm!" Oh, Ickle Midshipman Blakeney.

Also disturbing is the fact that Kelso's dad is played by the guy who played Mars's dad in Eerie, Indiana. I'm not sure what this information means, but I do note that both boys have unnaturally shiny brown hair. Hmmm...

Okay, why did nobody tell me That 70's Show was so awesome? I bought it because it was on sale and I vaguely recalled Ashton Kutcher wearing many a tight shirt and reminding me of a guy I had a crush on in college. I didn't expect to be sitting there howling with laughter or squealing over how adorable Fez is.

And I certainly didn't expect to be having a religious experiance, unless Ashton Kutcher's waxed manchest was involved in some form. You see, lately, I've been going through something of a spiritual crisis. I've been worried. There are times when I think that I might be shallow, that in my never-ending quest to watch pretty boys kissing and occaisonally murder small children, I could be missing out on the better things in life. Who knows, there could be more to the Star Wars prequel than Hayden Christensen in black leather and eyeliner. It might be about good, and evil, and the importance of protected sex and not falling into lava like a total dumbass.

And then, just when I'm begining to doubt myself, WHAM! The heavens open, and God says unto me, "Behold, young Froodle, I give you Eric Foreman and that kid from Third Rock From The Sun that you had a crush on, snogging!" Don't you see? This proves that I'm following the right path; God doesn't want me to care about the nature of the soul or the state of the world - he just wants me to watch Joseph Gorden Levitt snogging other men.

Also, I think Smallville would be massively improved if we just replaced Clark with a super-powered Kelso, Lana with Jackie and Lex with Fez let the good times roll.