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

Man, what the hell is going on with parsnips in this city? There is like a Leeds-wide shortage of parsnips. All Morrisons had were two lonesome prepacked bags of the most tiddly and pointless parsnips ever to be dragged from Gods green earth, and at my local greengrocer? Three. THREE! How am I supposed to make roast parsnips if the Parsnip Gods conspire against me in this way?

Well, my four day weekend was a veritable cornucopia of joy, cake, joy, pastries, joy, potroast, joy, Colin Farrell and joy. It was joyful. Went to A&Js, where the four of us cooked a big roast dinner, (well, three of us. James mostly just got in the way) watched TV and discussed such mind-boggling questions as

• Could Sunny Baudelaire bite through Dalek battlearmour?
  
• Is it possible to build a robot capable of defeating Mister T?
  
• What were the people responsible for the new Rocky movie thinking?

Of course, the rest of the week was the usual round of stupid customers, rude customers, customers who can't speak English and customers who for one reason or another are just plain annoying. Still, it is now Saturday, I have in the bag at my feet three parsnips and batteries for a remote control Dalek (which I shall be using to chase Bellatrix around the room until I get bored or she stops freaking out), and the sequel to Elizabeth Knox's fantastiful book, the Rainbow Opera, so if the idiot in the computer booth next to me would just stop his wittering, I'm pretty much set for 48 hours of gleeful lazification.

Well, well, well. Once again, I must apologise for leaving you bereft and Froodless for such a long time. In my defence, the last couple of weeks have been MADNESS, of the very best sort. Kicking off with THE BEST HALLOWEEN EVER, in which I gave myself a headache with my Medusa costume, made myself sick by eating too many cakes, was asked to be a Godmother (mwahaha, the Church of Liamneeson lives!), actually got Trick-or-Treaters who weren't chavs, had a powercut on Halloween night, and took many pictures that will be used to embarrass my fellow revellers once they are staid and responsible parents. Although they can't be all that responsible, because really, who makes someone like me responsible for a childs' religious edutainment?

Laterwards, I and Snithy both succumbed to the wonders of Newly Hot David Boreanaz, in the guise of swoon-inducing FBI agent... uh, I forget what his name was, but it was stupid. Anyway, he's Totally Hot and shoots things and digs and threatens to shoot gender-ambiguous lab assistants for asking him about his sex life. Needless to say, it totally rules.

Then, as if such Halloweeny and David Boreanazy joy wasn't enough, it was my birthday, which I celebrated in the best tradition of Making People Buy Me Stuff, which was cool even though I didn't get a monkey or a dancing baby penguin. I did see the History Boys (awesome), the Prestige (stupid plot twist barely compensated for by having Hughverine and Batbale wear top hats) and the Departed (which would have been awesome if not for MAtt Damon, and when I say Matt Damon you have to imagine me saying it in the voice of the Matt Damon puppet from Team America, because that is exactly how I feel about Matt Damon.)

Also, I finally got around to watching Carnivale, which is... interesting. I feel bad for Libby, though; her mother's a whore, her father is weak and ineffectual and her sister is dead, and now I reckon Jonesy has a bit of a mancrush on Ben since the Laying On Of Hands. Also, Lodz is creepy. Like, way, way creepier than Brother Justin. Also, there should be more bears. Take a hint from Lost, writers; bears are awesome.

Also, Snithy, you will be gleeified to know that the cheque for Wicked is in the post, complete with deathly hamsters of death and possibly some lumberjacks, and that I have booked my ticket to... Cornwall or Colchester or wherever it is you live. And if your home town does not prove to be the pit of moonshine-swilling hillbillies I imagined it to be, I will be most displeased.

Busy, busy weekend; had dinner with Alan and Jess on Friday, and oh my God Blip and Bramble have had babies and they are just the cutest little things ever. They're small enough to sit in the palm of your hand and they're all different colours and already have their own personalities and oh my God, if they don't let me have one I'm just going to cry! We watched Most Haunted and ate chilli and made fun of the Scouse dude for dressing like a used car salesman and then Honey sat on my shoulder while we watched Ghostbusters and marvelled at the concept of Sigourney Weaver as a sex symbol. It's crazy!

Dinner with Genevieve on Saturday, with significantly less cute baby bunnies and far more cute David Tennant as Doctor Who. I still think he's kinda pretty to be the Doctor, but whatever, because he's cute and Zoë Wanamaker was in it and she's awesome even if I do feel bitter every time I see her now because Goddamnit, she should have been Ida. Not that there was anything wrong with Caroline Goodall's performance, but when I have an image of a character fixed in my head, it's hard to let it go.

My advice for today is thus; do not attempt to watch Escaflowne in conjunction with any film directed by Guy Ritchie, especially Snatch. You'll just end up feeling like an asshole when the Dragonslayers die and all you can hear is Jason Statham saying "your life doesn't flash before your eyes 'cause you're too fuckin' scared to think - you just freeze and pull a stupid face", and then you can't help laughing at that one Dragonslayer with blood pouring out of his mouth so that it looks like he's missing his front teeth, hillbilly-style.

Alan and Jess came over tonight. They ended up watching about half an episode of Smallville, since it was on when they arrived. I don't think they were very impressed...

Alan: You are such a geek. How can you make fun of me for watching Stargate when you watch bloody Superman?
Froodle: He's not Superman yet and anyway, Smallville's good.
Candyman on Smallville: WHERE'S THE ELEVATOR?!
Alan and Jess: *hysterics*
Froodle: Shut up.
Alan: They have a whole episode about not being able to find an elevator, come on!
Froodle: Shut up.
Jess: You're only watching this because the box has a picture of a shirtless bloke all tied up on the cover.
Froodle: Shut up!

*later*

Big Daddy Luthor: *arrives*
Jess: Aaaahahahaa, he looks like Geriatric Fabio!
Big Daddy Luthor: *tosses his fabulous mane of hair*
Alan: Here comes the science part; concentrate!
Jess: You know he only keeps it that long to annoy Lex.
Alan: Yeah, I bet when Lex was a kid he'd come down for breakfast and his dad would be like, "Oh, I'm having such a bad hair day... oh, hi Lex."
Jess: And Lex would be like, *sob*
Alan: He's lucky, I would have made him wear a wig. Like, for fuck's sake, nobody wants to see your naked head!
Froodle: You know, this is how kids grow up to be evil supervillians.

*later still*

Clark: GET TO THE ELEVATOR!
Alan: What the fuck? There is no elevator! Has he not been paying attention? That was like, the entire point.
Jess: Oh, they found it in the end. It was behind a wall.
Alan: What the... okay, why can't he pull that guy up even though he's Superman?
Froodle: The guy is made from Kryptonite.
Alan: This is retarded.
Froodle: You're retarded!
Alan: He can't even fly, what the hell. Boo!
Jess: And why is he saving Lex Luthor?
Froodle: Because they're boyfriends.
Jess: I knew there was a reason you watched this.
Froodle: ...shut up!

Later we put Red Dwarf on while we made dinner; it was one of the ones with the line about Rimmer adding "BSc" every time he signed his name and it standing for Bronze Swimming Certificate:

Alan: Oh man, can't you just imagine James doing that?
Froodle: Are you fucking kidding me? I bet he adds "LLB (Hons)" to everything he writes now. Even like, Christmas cards and credit card slips.
Jess: Do we even know what LLB stands for?
Froodle: No idea. Probably a Latin tag for "Baccalaureate of Law" or something.
Alan: At least you have something cool to go after your names. I'm just going to be "DIP".
Froodle: You sound like a sidekick in a superhero comic. "Dip Man".
Jess: You have a little symbol on your chest of a bowl of dip with a crisp sticking out of it.
Alan: Until some lazy parents get all whiny about their fatass kids and make me change it to low-fat dip with a stick of celery.
Froodle: That's way too phallic. You try that in America, the religious right will crucify you.
Alan: Fuck them then, I just won't save them from my enemies.
Jess: You could have Doritos instead of throwing stars, and an advert like, "Does your party need something extra? Call DIPMAN, for all your Sour Cream and Chive needs!"
Froodle: And an underground lair with like, a giant Fondue set.
Jess: Do you think you can insure underground lairs? I mean, if I was like, Batman, and some asshole blew up my Batcave, I'd be so annoyed if I couldn't get the insurance to cover it.
Froodle: Yeah, but if you were Batman you'd be super-rich anyway.
Jess: Batman can't be super-rich. That's for Supermans. Batmans have to be like, Batrich.
Froodle: Do they go to the Batbank to draw out a couple of hundred Batdollars?
Jess: Yes.
Alan: *sadly* I wish I had some Dipdollars.
Froodle: Well, insure the Dipcave and then get some enemies to blow it up for you.

Finally we watched Mansfield Park, which is much improved by pretending all the characters are in fact characters from Revenge of the Sith. Fanny is Anakin; Edmund is Obi-Wan; the Crawfords are Sith Lords; Ickle Midshipman William, while not actually in the film, is Padme; Lady Bertram is Yoda; Sir Thomas is Mace Windu and Mr Rushworth, of course, is Jar Jar.

I return!

After two weeks in a desolate wasteland of cardboard boxes, irate rabbit and total lack of an internet connection, I have at last managed to find my way home to Livejournal. You may all remove the black mourning bands from your arms now.

During my soujourn in the arid plains of Internyet*, I have had many adventures, mostly involving trips to the park accompanied by my nobel bunny companion (who, it transpires, likes to chase squirrels, thus proving my theory that he secretly believes he's a cat) and trips to the cinema with my no less nobel but somewhat less soft, fuzzy and strokable human friends.

Went to see Batman Begins, in which Liam Neeson is a bondage ninja, Cillian Murphy is pretty, Micheal Caine does not say "You were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!" (woe!), Morgan Freeman is awesome and Gary Oldman is... really skinny. And short. Also, Katie Holmes does not get shot in the back of the head with a nail gun, which is pretty much the only flaw in the entire film.

Did I mention that Liam Neeson was a ninja? That is so awesome. I'm going to get a little Ninja!Liam Neeson doll and make him wrestle in a homoerotic manner with fight my Jedi!Liam Neeson doll.

Afterwards, we were debating whether to watch Saw or Red Dragon, and we got to talking about the difference between horror movies that scare you in a fun, enjoyable way - like a rollercoaster - and horror movies that leave you a sweating, shivering nervous wreck who can't sleep for two days *cough*the Ring*cough*. Then Jess suggested Miss Congeniality 2...

Froodle: *laughter*
Jess: What?
Froodle: I'm sorry, it's just we're talking about movies that inspire fear and horror and you mention a Sandra Bullock film.
Alan: Well, she is horrifying.
Froodle: I didn't watch 28 Days Later when it first came out, despite everyone telling me it was awesome, because I got confused between it and a Sandra Bullock film called 28 Days.
Jess: I can't picture Sandra Bullock in a zombie movie...
Froodle: Are you kidding? Most nightmarish thing ever - instead of monkeys, a bunch of stupid hippies unleash the terror that is Sandra Bullock upon the world.
Alan: Everyone who exchanges bodily fluids with her becomes a talentless, irritating bint whose very presence makes any film fifty times more annoying than it already was.
Froodle: Oh God, the London underpass filled with hordes of slavering Sandra Bullock clones! Only Cillian Murphy can save us now!
Alan: Are you kidding? Fear gas is useless against the reality of a thousand Sandra Bullocks.
Froodle: He will trample her with his magical Fear Horse while shielding himself from her evil with his Potato Sack of Immunity!

*This is a pune, or a play on words.

Spent the past few days packing. How in the name of all that is good have I got fifteen boxes of books? I think they're breeding behind my back.

Today was a fun day. Jess came over and we made cupcakes and flapjacks, and when Alan's lectures finished we went for a picnic and took Thlayli with us. Much enjoyment watching him running around enjoying the wonderful outdoors. I had him on a harness with the leash around my wrist, but he kept running around me and getting me tangled up in it, so in the end I tied it to the laces of one of my Doc Martens. Which Thlayli then managed to drag about two hundred yards up a hill, with Jess and I chasing him. We did get one group of girls who came up and asked me if he was a dog. I was like, "Yes, he's a dog. A really tiny, long eared, twitchy-nosed dog with huge hind paws and an odd lolloping run. In fact, he's a Rabbidoodle. One of those new designer breeds that's very popular in Europe just now." Idiots. Then we had cheesecake and sausage rolls and shandy lemonades, except for Thalyli who had carrots and water, and he jumped up on my lap and went to sleep. It was very cute.

Spent the rest of the afternoon and evening curled up reading "The Thief Lord", which I think may have beaten out Inkheart as my favourite Cornelia Funke book. I've never been to Venice, but just reading some of those scenes I could almost hear the cry of the gondoliers, smell the canals, feel the chill of snowflakes falling outside. It's a truly amazing book, which I recomend to anyone in the whole world ever.

And conversely, on the subject of things that should never, under any circumstances be recomended to anyone, ( The Sequel of DOOM is now up )

Oh yes. Special level of Hell, here I come.

*gigglesnort*

Watched the alternate cuts of Comes a Horseman and Revelation 6:8 with Alan and Jessica. And wackiness, as the saying goes, ensues...

[Flashback with Duncan and "Melvin" in Mexico/Wild West/some place with hats]
Duncan: Either way, Koren. On your feet or on your back.
Alan: Damn you, Duncan MacLeod. Kronos is not that kind of Immortal!

[Scene with Roman!Kronos and Roman!Methos and the WELL OF DOOM]
Jessica: Honestly, talk about your over-reaction. Doesn't anyone do the "we can still be friends" thing anymore?
Froodle: And here I thought Buffy and Angel had a monopoly on angsty, over-dramatic breakups. Although, in fairness, there is something about Kronos that screams "stalker ex".
Alan: Wouldn't that make them more Spike and Drusilla than Buffy and Angel, then?
Froodle: Or possibly Angel and Darla, but that's kind of mean to Kronos.
Jessica: Plus, I can see Kronos and Spike having similar styles, but not so much Kronos and Darla.
Alan: ...are you imagining Kronos dressed as a Catholic schoolgirl?
Jessica: ...little bit.
Froodle: I'm imagining Methos in one of Dru's floor-length slinky Goth dresses, holding a puppy called "Miss Sunshine".
Jessica: I think if Kronos was going to dress like a Buffy character, he'd be Faith. Or Vampire Willow.
Froodle: So... basically he'd be the same as he is now, only with bigger boobies?
Jessica: And better hair.

Kronos doing that little girl's voice was... disturbing on a level I never knew existed. Also, how retarded was that monk? "Oh hey, my boss-monk just told me there's a demon trapped in that well, and now it sounds like there's a child in there. I'd better go rescue it! It's not like demons are notorious decievers or anything!" Dumbass. And how come a weedy little monk can smash open that grating in like, two seconds, but Kronos has been down there thousands of years and never managed to escape? You fail at Well Escaping, Kronos.

Also, one line that should never, ever have been cut, because it proves beyond doubt that there is a God and he loves me: "I think you've gone soft, brother. You're not used to pain. Back then you would have jumped right up, asking for more."

In other news, saw the new Star Wars film today. ( Cut for spoilers, and also to spare those of you who can't bear to hear me rage against 'special needs' kids )

And finally, while the Phantom of the Opera is cool, he needs to take some lessons in dramatic entrances. Preferably from Angel, because that scene in Masquerade would have been vastly improved with a little door-smashery.

I have come to the conclusion that Van Helsing, Moulin Rouge and Phantom of the Opera do not mix, for the following reasons:

• Gerard Butlers singing is only just tolerable as it is, without being compared to the greatness that is Ewan McGregor.
  
  
• Carlimir as a querulous transvestite is acceptable and for those of us who've seen the London Assignment, actually quite in-character, but Dracula as the Duke is all shades of wrong and leads to speculation about the effectiveness of Dracula singing "Like a Virgin" to Van Helsing versus, say, turning into a big fucking bat-monster. Personally, I found the singing way, way creepier, and I bet Van Helsing would have too.
  
  
• On a related note, "Big Fat Virgin King". Try explaining that one to your friends in the throes of a massive giggling fit.
  
  
• There's always someone who suggests Ewan McGregor should play Raoul, and that confuses me and makes me unsure whose side I should be on. This is unacceptable.
  
  
• Eventually this leads to debates about whether Erik, Van Helsing or Christian would win in a fight. This in turn leads to arguing about whether Gerard Butler, Hugh Jackman or Ewan McGregor would win in a fight. Ewan McGregor loses both times, and that makes me feel bad for him.
  
  
• Anna is even more annoying than usual when compared with Christine and Satine.

In other news, today Alan tried to convince me that my entire life was just a dream, like in that one episode of Buffy:

Froodle: Well for a start, if the whole world was just my dream, it certainly wouldn't include Fat!Xander, Andrew or Spike's Initiative clone. In fact, it would mostly involve naked David Boreanaz. [pauses] And Gerard Butler, he can be in there too.
Jessica: I don't see them working as a couple. I mean, David Boreanaz is pretty much already the American equivilent of Gerard Butler.
Froodle: I see what you mean. Too mmuch sitting around talking about socks and birds, not nearly enough sexin'.
Jessica: Now, Gerard Butler and Johnny Depp, I kind of see that...
Alan: But won't Orlando Bloom be jealous?
Froodle: I'd want to see it just for the catfight between Gerard Butler and Orlando Bloom. And for the hot man-on-man action, of course. But mostly because Orlando Bloom would get bitchslapped.
Jessica: And then Heath Ledger could comfort him.
Froodle: There is absolutely no downside to this plan. I think we should insist that Gerard Butler and Johnny Depp have sex right away.
Alan: Yeah, why don't you write to them and tell them that?
Froodle: Don't think I won't!

Final lecture in Foucauldian theory - not sure why, but Julia's voice was really getting on my nerves. During the last twenty minutes of the lecture, I was gritting my teeth to stop myself from standing up, throwing the pen at her and screaming at her to shut up. I had such a killer headache afterwards.

Deadline for handing dissertation in was today - in the grand tradition of Being A Smug Bitch Who Printed Hers Out The Day Before, I went by the library to snigger evilly as tempers ran high in the lines outside the computer rooms. Now I regret not acting on Alan's suggestion of sneaking around the day before leaving a single sheet of acetate in the feed tray of every printer in the university, or simply letting Thlayli loose among the wires. Would have been hilarious and probably led to riots.

Jess bought a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates for her dissertation supervisor, but after we tramped up four flights of stairs to her office, she wasn't in and there was nobody she could leave it with. So, we ate the chocolates and drank the wine in her stead. Did slip the card under the office door, though.

Jess had a group meeting at noon, so I killed some time in the Union's Oxfam waiting for her. Somebody stole the X-Box they set up for students to play on in there - how fucking scruffy do you have to be to steal from Oxfam? People are disgusting. On the other hand, they had a copy of Watership Down illustrated by John Lawrence. I tried to show Thlayli a pictre of his heroic namesake when I got home, but he was more interested in nibbling the paper, so I gave up.Also bought Susan Cooper's "The Dark is Rising" series, Tracy Chevalier's "The Lady and the Unicorn", a School Book Fairs edition of "The Scarlet Pimpernel" (shut up!), and a book called "The Sin-Eater" by Fiona MacLeod, which was bought soley on the basis that it had pretty green and gold swirls on its cover. I know, I know, but I am a sucker for pretty books.

Just as I got back home, my (actually working!) mobile rang - apparently only one other person turned up to Jess's group meeting. We decided to go shopping to reward ourselves for finishing our dissertations:

Jess: It was so much hard work!
Alan: You spent one weekend on it!
Jess: Yeah, but I thought about it a lot.

I actually needed some new shirts, but the only one I liked made my boobs look huge and... kinda pointy. It was weird. So I got a froofly dress and a sparkly pendant instead. A failure is me. On plus side, pendant Very sparkly.

Had most delicious lunch at Bella Italia - am so going to try roasting my own new potatoes - and came up with exciting new plan to kill the Law Society before we leave. Let's just say it involves pantyhose, rice pudding and an irate garter snake.

The cute black Lionhead in the petstore was sold - I am sad, as was planning to talk Jessica into buying him, naming him Hephaestion and then taking him in when she and Alan move to Australia next year. 'Cause see, if she bought him, it wouldn't be my fault that I ended up keeping him, because I could hardly be expected to let her hand him over to a shelter or something. Boo for me. I really liked that rabbit. There was a kitty and I wanted him too, but Jess said that Alan really would kill her if she brought home a cat. Damn it, I need to live out my vicarious catownership dreams through someone!

Came home and Thlayli was mad that I didn't bring him snacks. He jumped up on the roof of his wooden house, and managed to slip on a cardboard tube he'd put up there earlier and fell off. We laughed, and he slunk under his Thlaylibridge and sulked.

Also, my feet hurt.

Oh, such a busy Froodle am I.

Marcus came 'round on Monday night - we had hot chocolate and I introduced him to the campy wonder that is Big Wolf on Campus. Much giggling at time-travelling Russian villians ("In future American pro wrestlers becomes governors. Is true! I am from future!"), gelatinous cubes, fire-breathing devil dogs, boybands from outer space, male pregnancy and of course, Vince. Also, I await the day somebody slashes Devon and Chad from N'sipid. "When we're alone, call me Admiral". It practically writes itself!

Yesterday Jess and I went to the new Chinese resturant that's opened near the train station - was very tasty and shall probably go again. Alan's working night shifts at the moment, so rather than have her drive back to Halifax at gone midnight and have Alan catch the morning rush-hour train home, she stayed at mine overnight. We went to a new bar called Cocoon, which was nice, being of the non-crowded, plenty of seating and no drunken morons variety. Also watched an episode of Highlander, despite Jessica's vehement protests (she Will succumb to the power of sexy Duncan, damn it. I'm not going to be the only one Fangirling him) and an episode of Firefly.

Jessica's latest scheme to make millions and avoid working ever again has taken the shape of creating a comedy sketch show based on the exploits of all the people we know. So we're sitting there in the lounge, scribbling down ideas, and Alan walks in.

Jess: Alan, help me think of something weird Catherine does.
Alan: *looks around him, taking in the rabbit pen, doll collection, comics strewn all over the floor and anime posters covering the walls* ...Is this a trick question?
Jess: Haha. Okay, you can make notes on James. That's going to be a goldmine.
Alan: Normally I could slag him off all day, but I'm just too tired.

Company is now called "The production company, for fucks sake!", based on Alan's reaction when we told him about Jess's plan.