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

Oh no, you guys, a terrible thing has happened! See, there I was, innocently enjoying a day filled with zombies and/or Cillian Murphy, minding my own business, not doing anything mean to anybody (for a change). And I'm about half-way through 28 Days Later, and part of me is enjoying the zombie monkey action while another part is wondering why Cillian Murphy insists on starring in films that, with the exception of Batman Begins, either suck or require him to be not-hot*.

And then. THEN! I realise that the evil Army dude who keeps zombies chained up in his garden, stupidly within reach of clean laundry, is Christopher... well, I can't remember how to spell his last name, but the Potato-Headed Doctor Who! And he's all, "Oh Cillian Murphy, I shall make you my own personal Boy Wench," and Cillian Murphy is all, "I would rather be stabbed in the throat with a PEN!" and then violence happens, and now my brain is all, "Dude, we should write some kind of Doctor Who/28 Days Later crossover with perhaps ADDED JACKSON RIPNER and inappropriately feminine scarves!" and I am entirely disgusted with myself.

Although not so disgusted that I didn't immediately go looking for such fic, and feel disappointed when I found none.

Oh, and also? The Wind That Shakes The Barley is SHIT! All of Ireland should be nuked in punishment for that film. Fuck you, Ireland, even Skeet Ulrich and JAMES REMAR cannot save you now.

*Please note, I am not denying that he was very pretty in Breakfast on Pluto, it's just that my own personal preference for Cillian Murphy does not extend to Fishnet Stockings Flavoured Cillian. Unless he gets it on with Dakin. That would be acceptable.

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.

Well, because BT are fucking retarded, it looks like I won't be getting the Intarwebs in my (oh so cool) new apartment anytime soon. A curse and embarrasing social diseases upon them all. Fortunately help is at hand in the form of an internet cafe just down the road from my (as previously mentioned, oh so cool) new place, so I will still be around, just not as frequently.

In the meantime, life goes on as usual; work is work (although a certain Annoying Individual has returned after three months of sick leave and you know, you'd think you'd get over hating someone in three months but no, she still does my face in); I have been watching Boomtown (So good! Lacking the homoeroticness of other, more Miami-Vice-esque cop shows but still... so good!) and Band of Brothers (yay for Donnie Wahlberg, who unlike Mark does not look like a victim of Downs Syndrome), rereading the Alex Rider books in preparation for Alex Pettifer's unbelievable hotness, getting into the Corydon books (lots of fun, despite complete over-use of the word "brazen" when it comes to describing the Gorgons) and flailing over the Miami Vice movie posters springing up at bus stops all over Leeds.

Also the Tribe has completely taken over my morning pre-work viewing sessions - nothing like a dose of Lex's super-Kiwi accent to start the day. I've seen the first three series now, and I have the following things to say:

Bray is gayer than a bag of monkeys.
Danni has the most horrendous voice ever.
Jack and Ellie are the cutest on-screen couple in the history of the world.
Luke needs a good feeding.
The Guardian is awesome.
KC is an absolute sweetheart and May is a bitch for giving Pride that rose.
The bloke playing Pride is such a ham.
Amber has the worst breaking-up-with-someone skills ever. Worse than Methos, even.
Ebony is my hero.
Salene is fugly, pathetic and annoying.
Evil!Trudy rocks.

I love that scene where the Guardian decides to raise "the true generation of Zoot" or whatever, and he gets all the preggos into one room and then he's like, "Stupid girls, how could they let this happen?" You go, the Guardian! The destruction of your civilisation is no reason to have unprotected sex, ladies. And then that one girl goes into labour and Luke is all, "Hoorah, you can be present at the birth of the first of Zoot's children!" and the Guardian's all, "Are you mad? I'm leaving." and then he just walks off and Luke is like, "Well, shit."

Anyway, my hour is nearly up so I shall have to love you and leave you. I'll try to be online at some point next week, so you can all stay tuned for the exciting adventures of me. In the meantime, eat all your vegetables, don't pick fights with the Clergy and watch out for ninjas and monkeys when you're walking alone at night.

Why does the world want to hurt me? Why are people always doing things that annoy me, like existing when I want them to be dead? What is it with stupid people and their whole having to be alive thing? I call that selfish.

To clarify, there is an idiot on my course who is quite possibly the most annoying human being on the face of the planet. For the sake of anonymity, I shall call him... Shitcock. In less than a month, Shitcock has managed to annoy me to a point that took La FLobadora two years to reach. More than David Blaine when he did that stupid glass box thing, even. Everything he does fills me with such a horrible rage, it can only be properly expressed by slaughtering some children and falling into some lava. If my life was a Star Wars movie, he would be Jar Jar.

Now I'm going to eat some chocolate buttons and watch movies with Colin Farrell in. Lookit the ickle monkey hand!