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

Why is there not more Nurse!Joker porn? No, seriously. Why? If you're reading this and you haven't written any yet, you should be ashamed. It makes me doubt your commitment to Sparkle Motion. Oh, and no Harvey, plzxthx. His stupid zombie-face annoys me.

On a totally different note, I feel it is necessary to state how much I love that episode of Miracles with Sherwood. I love it to the power of one of those sideways figures-of-eight. That scene where he's spinning the wheelchair around in a circle like a disco-dancin' Dalek, and he's going "doo-dee-doo-doo" in his Steven Hawkins machine-voice and the words are also appearing on his computer screen? So awesome, you guys. And also when Skeet tries to stop him from blocking the door and he's like, "Oh, nice, shove a cripple!"

I liked that bit in the Civil War episode where they're in the woods and Skeet's all, "We is lost," and Alva's like, "No, the trees are moving FROM SPOOKINESS!" and Skeet's like, *annoyed face*. Unlike his "I am sad/take me now" face, his "annoyed" face is always appropriate and unambiguous. I bet Alva does that all the time - like, they're trying to find an exit on the highway and they get lost and Alva's like, "Supernatural activities are causing the roads to move around!" and Skeet's like, *annoyed face* and Alva's like, "Skeet? Why are you putting on that Ghostface ma- argh oh no I am stabbed!"

I have never managed to stay awake during Hand of God, though. I don't know what it is, as it's pretty exciting with the murdering and all, but about the time Russ's firebug sidekick from Numb3rs hits Skeet with the iron, I doze off. I think the Skeet/Alva angst just disturbs me so much that my brain shuts down in self-defence.

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.