Stuff n nonsense

Stuff that is currently totally harshing my gig hardcore and sending me into a batshit crazy ass frenzy of Global Proportions versus stuff that I freaking love which is making all the above stuff easier to handle so that I don’t walk into Mickey D’s and put a cap in yo ass:

Sad? That I already know who wins this season of Survivor. DAMN you to hell Channel Nine Programming Team. Your blatant disregard for the viewer and the fact that you don’t seem to realise that most of us HAVE THE INTERNET and that CNN and Yahoo and other sites I innocently click on, broadcast the name of the winner with scant regard for those of us who don’t reside in the US or Canada and are several episodes behind. Oh, and also who blew up the bus and several high school students on Season Two of Veronica Mars (although that is mostly my own stupid ass fault, but still - damn you, I say. DAMN YOU.)
Glad. The CW network in the States announcing that they’ve renewed Veronica Mars for a third full on kick ass awesome season. Seriously, this show is The Shit. Buy it, borrow it, download it* – I don’t care, just get your hands on seasons one and two SOMEHOW. And Arrested Development. And Deadwood. And if you haven’t seen Firefly yet, what the FUCK are you waiting for??

(*Downloading is bad m’kay?? I do not condone the illegal downloading of music or movies at all. Please don’t ask how I’ve seen Season Two of VM. Allegedly. Ooooh, look at . . . that pretty sunset . . .)

Crappy? My body’s pavlovian response to finishing a play – to whit, coming down with a cold that hasn’t really established itself in the snot filled capacity so much, but has nonetheless ensured that I’m not getting terribly great sleep, that I seesaw back and forth between “Wow its warm in here today” and “Does anyone have a jumper/hat/scarf/gloves/thermal heat pack/know the quickest way to get to Hades?” and that every bone in my skull aches.
Happy. The fact that thanks to the detox, I am now a fully functioning capable adult who only has (needs**) one weak skinny latte a day. Don’t need any more coffee at all, no siree bob, not this little black caffeine addicted duck . . .

(**craves/thrives on/would kill you all for)

Sucks to be me? The fact that I got Foxtel Digital last weekend which I self-installed in my bedroom, making me feel very proud of myself and causing me to puff up my chest and strut around in front of Fosse and PGiddy all “I am so the man in this house, for my next trick I’ll kill a spider and then put together a product from Ikea without reading the instruction manual or using the allen key” until last night when I realised that I’ve obviously missed a step because I can’t get my VCR to tape House on free to air at the same time that I’m watching America’s Next Top Model which I used to be able to do with analogue.
Not so bad? Because I have Foxtel Digital I watched House at 8.30 and then watched America’s Next Top Model on Fox8 2 (Fox8 channel repeated two hours later) at 10.30. Love!!

Bah. That a film based on The Worst Book I’ve Ever Read Seriously, is going to be the biggest thing in the cinema this year and will pull people away from seeing X-Men Three, The Last Stand. And Tom’s hair. Could someone PLEASE explain Tom Hanks’ hair to me? Anyone?? ANYone?? And if Hanks or Opie get themselves Oscar nominations out of this shitfest I will fly to H’wood and smack some bitches upside the head, TallulahB style. And can we cut it out with all the advertising brainwashing Go And See This Movie Or You’ll Have No Idea What Everyone Is Talking About And Maybe Die Alone and Friendless tie-ins please? I don’t want to have to solve some stupid puzzle to buy a burger or have a ‘clues’ to a ‘code’ banner across the bottom of my tv screen while House is on just so Joe Schmuck can win a grand on the radio the next day. I don’t CARE about your film, please stop shoving it down my throat, even the bullshit for MI:III was less annoying - Tom Cruise come back, all is forgiven, I have a couch here that you can jump on as much as you want!
Heh. This review. And this. Heh heh.

SOB! I got ridiculously over excited after finishing one play recently as thoughts of multi coloured, boy short haircuts flickered through my head (there may in fact, have been a dance of joy performed in the foyer of the theatre after the final show - witnessed by Purps, Tormy, Cruel Tutelage, Red, Jbird and Phoenix), only to show up to rehearsals of the next play to realise that my character needs Heidi style braided pigtails, therefore it must stay long and boring. And that my drivers licence needs renewing and my photo will have the boring hair. Fuck.
Wheeee! The knowledge that the Heidi hair is only for five more weeks (two weeks rehearsals, three weeks production). And I can always ‘lose’ my drivers licence and get a new one when I have my hair back, right? Sing a chorus of ‘You’re So Vain’ with me??!!

Ugh. Michael on Big Brother.
Sigh. Jamie on Big Brother. Shutup.

Hate. Having to read manuals because I’m a total luddite who really only just recently worked out how to hyperlink and post photos on this damn blog, let alone understand how to format this and reset that.
Love. (or at least total and utter lust) My new and totally hot mobile phone which has a video and a camera and plays MP3s and has a fabulous Sex and the City ring tone. Which I’m sure I’ll eventually work out how to programme so that I can use it. I need to really read the manual.

(Damn.)