So I was thinking that after my lengthy absence, a re-introduction is needed. However, I am way too lazy for that. So this is what you get:
Totally rules to live by, no? (I left about a zillion things out of this hasty sheet of notebook paper. Sue me).
In other news, I’m super excited for the new BBC show Black Orphan. The trailer during the Christmas episode of Doctor Who looked fantastic! But as usual the BBC is making me wait a long time for their super awesome programming. Refer to my post on my love/hate relationship with the BBC.
As for the Christmas episode of Doctor Who, can we chat about that for a moment? How much do we (and of course by we, I mean me) love our new companion!?! Oh how I heart her so. I foresee nothing but awesomeness for the young Clara.
In terms of companions, I’ve always been Team Rose. She was my first. And I loved her for it. I hated Martha (although I LOVED her on Torchwood), and wasn’t really a fan of Donna. I did, however, fall hard for one Amelia Pond. I’m not sure it was actually Amy that I loved or the way the Doctor interacted with her. But that relationship pulled me like none has since Rose.
But I really feel like this chick is totally going to hold her own against the Doctor. And this is going to be a fun ride! Must get TARDIS so I can go to March 30th.
And a quick side note for the future of this blog; I’m hoping to post at least twice a week going forward now that I have the easy ability to do so. (Plus it will totally count toward my goal of writing at least 60 minutes a day. Two birds and all).
No not them. Me.
I didn’t realize how much British slang had been creeping into my life (thank you BBC) until about a week ago.
My husband and I were rehashing our evening out, it went something like this:
Him: Hey did you see that guy dressed in his Marine outfit?
Me: Oh, you mean that one that was chatting up that bird?
Him: The one who was whatting now?
Him: (Groan) You’re British tonight aren’t you?
Him: Your accent sucks.
Me: (I give two finger salute).
Him: I can play too…fancy a shag?
I have a love/hate relationship with BBC.
They make the most amazing shows (Full disclosure, I don’t get most British comedy, although I thoroughly enjoyed Manchild, but they NAIL drama and sci-fi) but with the notable exception of Doctor Who, it doesn’t seem to matter how well a show performs, or its legions of fans, they insist on doing ridiculous things, like, giving awesome shows 6 episodes a year, for two years and ending them. Why or why must they torment me so?
I got 2 brilliant seasons (or series if you like to pretend, as I so often do, that you’re British- or I suppose if you actually are British) of Survivors and then nothing, but here in the great ‘ol US we have 10 seasons of stupid crap, like One Tree Hill (Even more full disclosure: I’ve never actually seen One Tree Hill, but do you really need to?) and endless seasons of reality TV.
I’m been dying, yes literally DYING to watch Sherlock because I know it will amazing, but since I know it most likely won’t make it passed this season (it’s possible, I think Being Human is on
season series three right now, but I’m still only halfway through the 2nd-it’s sooooo good #nospoilers!), I’ve been trying to savor it. I know it’s always just off in the horizon, waiting to be devourer over a long weekend.
But this should not be case, no? I should be able to enjoy the actual good shows on TV without fear of them being yanked out from under me. Sigh. I suppose that’s my cue to go watch the CSI: something or other.