Sunday, November 20, 2005
ROTFL on Saturday
No one cares what's in these damned things, but - hey - I'm gonna go at this one for a week (and see the weight come off, as one advert used to put it before they banned in-the-home do-it-yourself amputations).
So let's see. What did I do today? Well, it's a Saturday so naturally I got up nice and early (to the sounds of the Today Programme on Radio 4) and put some washing in. Oh yes, Mr Domesticated, you watch, next I'll be doing the ironing.
Then I went round to the church hall where Shane had cooked up a full English brekkie. Indeed. It was great. Get to chat to some friends, eat fried food and drink church-hall style cups of tea (thick and orange preferably, although I got there waaay too early and ended up with some thin, beige cup of milky piss. Which was a bit of a let down.)
After that I popped a film into Colin's house (stopping to let some ducks cross the road, no joke, they took five minutes pissing about in front of my car... and all that time I was thinking "sunday roast" [see pic: This Goose Thinks You're Gay And What Are You Going To Do About It?]), noting on the way that the lovely Emily is in town this weekend.
Oh for a weekend in Emily. But enough now, enough.
After that, let me see... um... popped to town.
And - AND - that is the LAST time I'm ever going into town. The place sucks and it's full of complete idiots at the weekend. No-one around here appears to have any manners, or the slightest bit of courtesy. Ok, I know that Christmas is on its way and so the spend-a-thon must begin, but these people are just brainless fucks. What is it with society? It depresses me that it appears to be going to the wall.
*cough*
Anyway, after struggling round some shops and giving up any hope of being able to actually purchase what I want (and not a box with a mug, some socks and a small packet of low-quality chocolates (which brainiac came up with that cute marketable combo?)) I came back home, loving the weather (cos it was beautiful and crisp today).
I've just watched "Serenity", the much acclaimed Joss Whedon film which continues the tedious adventures of the rag-tag bunch of space cowboys that got the orginal "Firefly" cancelled. Now I'm not one for watching films*. Or sci-fi**. I mean, heh, I thought "Alien Resurrection" was just fabulous***. But I'm afraid it would appear I am the one, single, dissenting voice on this - "Serenity" sucks goats. Having watched almost an enitre episode of "Firefly" about three years ago, I knew pretty much what to expect - cowboys and space ships.
I like cowboy films. I like space ship films.
So what has Whedon done with this clever amalgamation of the two genres? Well, hem, he's given his main character the name Malcolm. Don't get me wrong. I know a lot of Malcolms (not as many as I do Colins though) and they're all really great. All of them are quite the most bless things out there without cute little sockies on. But. They're not SpaceCowboyHeroes. Nor, do I imagine, would they want to be. And if one of them did, I'd like to think that he'd have the common sense to change his name. Let me, for one moment, digress.
Imagine the scene:
"Howdy pardner."
"Oh hello, dear boy!"
"You sure have a curious way of talkin'. You new to these parts?"
"Why yes, now you ask. I've just flown in on my space ship. It's quite the jolliest thing!"
"I see. My name's Bill "The Killer" Wesson. I mainly go by juss "Killer" though. By what name do they call you, stranger?"
"Well, er, "Killer", they call me, er, Malcolm."
"Well, hecky if that ain't the time, I'll be movin' along now. So long..."
Malcolm ain't cutting it. Oh no sir. Also, don't be getting the wrong idea that all the Malcolms I know have middle-class English accents. They don't. But I wish they did. One occasionally needs an easy target when drunk and lookin' to pick on someone.
For now, Buz will remain that target.
Anyway, "Serenity" was rubbish. Apart from the first 9 minutes and a bit near the end when stuff actually happend that I could give two damns about. The sparkling dialogue that has been the highlight of all the reviews I've read (which then prompted me to watch the dratted thing) appears twice. And they're both in the trailer.
The Browncoats will flame me no doubt.
So this evening, having been mainly disappointed by the things I've actually done (but enjoyed the bits in between) I've got a youth group to look after somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
But first, I'm going to play a bit of "Tomb Raider 3" (ahh, no-quite-so-retro action).
* Sarcasm
** So's that
*** Oh, and that bit.
