AT LEAST I'M STAYING WITH THIS WEEKLY POSTING THING.
Cleaning out my DVR this weekend led to watching:
Beastly, a predictable retelling of Beauty and the Beast. I dunno, I'd rather go reread Robin McKinley's Beauty. Oh, I'll grant you that Neil Patrick Harris was pleasantly snarky, and the ending had kind of a cool twist, but I'm really not a fan of Vanessa Hudgens, and I didn't see much in her performance to change my mind.
Rewatched The Order, mostly to make sure that I still wanted to buy it when the opportunity arises, and Plunkett & Macleane for the same reason. Jonny Lee Miller is one of those actors that I like best in period work-- not to say that he's not perfectly admirable in contemporary roles, just that I prefer watching him in historical work. Jack Davenport is another I put in that category, although with him, I actually don't like the modern roles that I've seen him perform. And, of course, he'll always be Commodore James Norrington to me.
I also glutted myself on French Open tennis, of course. Djokovic WIPED THE COURTS with his opponent on Friday, and then yesterday struggled from a two-set deficit. Nobody was showing the game live, so I have no idea what the problem was. I was reduced to clutching my phone and desperately refreshing my French Open app with its little tennis-ball icons, maniacally chanting the tennis basics we all started learning along with how to hold a racquet: use your head, move your feet, keep your focus, play one point at a time.
Beats me if it actually helped him, but it sure made me feel better. And in the end, Djokovic won, so, you know . . . drinks all around, right?
Actually, I went back to BED, I was so wrung out emotionally.
Washed the rest of Stoli's dog beds. I got tired of doing laundry last weekend after taking her to the groomers, so I just started tossing clean sheets over her beds at Mom's house. Then Friday night, I stripped everything and carted it all home with me, because Mom has fits when I "clog up the washer with dog hair". WHATEVER. I bought you that washer and dryer, I can bloody well glut it with dog fur if I want.
Mom came down to stay overnight last night and tonight because her car will be in the shop today and tomorrow. It's weird how well my folks get along now that they're not married any more. I called a little while ago, to make sure she hadn't blown up my tv by messing with the remote ( yes, she's done it before! ), and she and my father were sitting in the living room discussing where to go for lunch. BIZARRE, I TELL YOU.
It's gonna be AWESOME to have Mom's house to myself overnight tonight. I think both my folks forget that I lived entirely on my own for fifteen years. It's really hard to adapt to living with people again, and honestly? I hate it. I need a lot of alone time, and I don't get it from either of them, because they want to be joined at the goddamn hip with me all the fucking time.
I'll probably just end up vacuuming my room at Mom's house, and possibly really living it up and changing the sheets on the bed. Still, it will be nice. And if I want to go to bed early, I can.
SO THERE.
Beastly, a predictable retelling of Beauty and the Beast. I dunno, I'd rather go reread Robin McKinley's Beauty. Oh, I'll grant you that Neil Patrick Harris was pleasantly snarky, and the ending had kind of a cool twist, but I'm really not a fan of Vanessa Hudgens, and I didn't see much in her performance to change my mind.
Rewatched The Order, mostly to make sure that I still wanted to buy it when the opportunity arises, and Plunkett & Macleane for the same reason. Jonny Lee Miller is one of those actors that I like best in period work-- not to say that he's not perfectly admirable in contemporary roles, just that I prefer watching him in historical work. Jack Davenport is another I put in that category, although with him, I actually don't like the modern roles that I've seen him perform. And, of course, he'll always be Commodore James Norrington to me.
I also glutted myself on French Open tennis, of course. Djokovic WIPED THE COURTS with his opponent on Friday, and then yesterday struggled from a two-set deficit. Nobody was showing the game live, so I have no idea what the problem was. I was reduced to clutching my phone and desperately refreshing my French Open app with its little tennis-ball icons, maniacally chanting the tennis basics we all started learning along with how to hold a racquet: use your head, move your feet, keep your focus, play one point at a time.
Beats me if it actually helped him, but it sure made me feel better. And in the end, Djokovic won, so, you know . . . drinks all around, right?
Actually, I went back to BED, I was so wrung out emotionally.
Washed the rest of Stoli's dog beds. I got tired of doing laundry last weekend after taking her to the groomers, so I just started tossing clean sheets over her beds at Mom's house. Then Friday night, I stripped everything and carted it all home with me, because Mom has fits when I "clog up the washer with dog hair". WHATEVER. I bought you that washer and dryer, I can bloody well glut it with dog fur if I want.
Mom came down to stay overnight last night and tonight because her car will be in the shop today and tomorrow. It's weird how well my folks get along now that they're not married any more. I called a little while ago, to make sure she hadn't blown up my tv by messing with the remote ( yes, she's done it before! ), and she and my father were sitting in the living room discussing where to go for lunch. BIZARRE, I TELL YOU.
It's gonna be AWESOME to have Mom's house to myself overnight tonight. I think both my folks forget that I lived entirely on my own for fifteen years. It's really hard to adapt to living with people again, and honestly? I hate it. I need a lot of alone time, and I don't get it from either of them, because they want to be joined at the goddamn hip with me all the fucking time.
I'll probably just end up vacuuming my room at Mom's house, and possibly really living it up and changing the sheets on the bed. Still, it will be nice. And if I want to go to bed early, I can.
SO THERE.