Wild and Wandering Thoughts of a frizz-laden loon

Friday, April 28, 2006

There ain't never enough time, never enough...

Well, it appears nobody cares about Brokeback Mountain, Annie Proulx and/or Jake Gyllenhaal. (Or Heath Ledger, I suppose.) Ah well. I'll have to week copiously on my own...

Anyway, I found this on the Dr Who board on IMDb, and thought it was *hilarious*. The thread is called "Things we've learned from Doctor Who." Here are the best ones (well, the ones that made me giggle):

  • They REALLY want their Mummy.
  • If a drooling old pervert offers you to come “traveling” with him, go.
  • Keep satsumas in your pockets.
  • never touch a dalek - you will either burn or make it want to die
  • Look out for Life-Size pencilcases, with the zips on their foreheads. They aint really pencilcases.
  • if someone is constantly farting, soak them in vinegar
  • It's nice to be a lunatic.
  • Looking into the heart of the TARDIS which you must-not-do-under-any-circumstances-or-you-will-die can easily be cured by a bit of kissing.
  • Tea cures everything that kissing can't.
  • If you see a big head in a massive jar, ask him what the big secret is.
  • If in doubt - lick the door (This was my absolute favourite one).
  • Daleks like to pimp their rides.
  • Is that a gun up your bum or are you pleased to see me? (Another favourite.)
  • The Time Lords must've gotten into the habit hoarding their Jelly Babies during the war. Don't count on being offered one.

OK, on another note.

I have German GCSE orals.

On Wednesday.

Poo, bollocks, crap, shite and FECK in excelsis! Dad says I have to relax and enjoy them! How???!! These bloody exams effect the rest of my academic future? How can I relax? How???

I'm going away to panic now. COMMENT!!!!

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

What Jack remembered and craved in a way he could neither help nor understand was the time that distant summer on Brokeback when Ennis had come up behind him and pulled him close, the silent embrace satisfying some shared and sexless hunger.

They had stood that way for a long time in front of the fire, its burning tossing ruddy chunks of light, the shadow of their bodies a single column against the rock. The minutes ticked by from the round watch in Ennis's pocket, from the sticks in the fire settling into coals. Stars bit through the wavy heat layers above the fire. Ennis's breath came slow and quiet, he hummed, rocked a little in the sparklight and Jack leaned against the steady heartbeat, the vibrations of the humming like faint electricity and, standing, he fell into sleep that was not sleep but something else drowsy and tranced until Ennis, dredging up a rusty but still useable phrase from the childhood time before his mother died, said, "Time to hit the hay, cowboy. I got a go. Come on, you're sleepin on your feet like a horse," and gave Jack a shake, a push, and went off in the darkness. Jack heard his spurs tremble as he mounted, the words "see you tomorrow," and the horse's shuddering snort, grind of hoof on stone.

Later, that dozy embrace solidified in his memory as the single moment of artless, charmed happiness in their separate and difficult lives. Nothing marred it, even the knowledge that Ennis would not then embrace him face to face because he did not want to see nor feel that it was Jack he held. And maybe, he thought, they'd never got much farther than that. Let be, let be.

That is the most beautiful and romantic passage I have ever read in my entire *life*. I actually started crying when I read that. I'm an ol' softy.

Someday I'll be able to write like that. Just give me time.

And it's the best scene in the film as well...

Monday, April 24, 2006

OK, today has been one of those days where crap just spews out of people's mouths:

[Complaining about a maths test.]
"I mean, nearly everyone in my class doesn't work at all and get good grades, yet I work like a *woodlouse* and get crap ones!"

Beth: Oh, I love the computers in the music block; you can program them to go "da da da da da da da BOOOOOOMMM!!!"

And there was more, but darnit...however, our wonderful bus buddy Jenny was the crap-spewer of the day.

Me and her were playing a game where I said a category (like "Teachers!" or "Flowers!" and she had to say the first thing related to that, straight away. And naturally, it became a bit...odd.





"Pete Borrie!"

"A girl in your class!"
"There's a girl in your class called Harpreet."


"Karma Sutra!"

And, the most weird of them all:


Which sparked off this absurd conversation.

Rosby: [Ironically.] Ah, so that's how trees reproduce; everything the teachers tell you about photosynthesis is a lie: they actually have apendage just like humans...
Jenny: I'm sorry, what?
Rosby: I'm just saying that everyone lied about photosynthesis!
Jenny: Trees use photosynthesis to reproduce???
Rosby: Yes, because they...oh. ...well, how do they then?
Jenny: Um....seeds?
[long pause]
Rosby: Oh yeah...

Why is nobody posting? Come on stripey socks Lisa and Marie, what happened?

I'd better go now. Farewellll...

P.S. Does anyone know if the fantasticomoto Brokeback Mountain is out on DVD yet?

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Tooth and Claw

Oh my God, that episode was *fantastic*! And it was really really scary. And I don't mean a kind of slow moving tension dalek kind of scary, but really violent menacing *terrified squeal* scary. That werewolf was brilliant! David Tennant Scottish! Gorgeous! Singing! Howling!


(Click on the picture for more detail in glorious technicolour. Oh God, he's gorgeous. Beyond human belief.)

And, we now know the origins of Torchwood, home-to-be of the great and utterly gorgeous John Barrowman.


Oh God, I love Doctor Who. Absolutely. Absoluuuuuuuutely.

I would the best quotes up on here, but I can't remember them all; I need to re-watch it. Heeeeeeeeeeee!!

"What are we gonna do now?"

Rosby out. WORSHIP THE BRILLIANCE that is Doctor Who.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Happy Birthday!!!!

Diana just deleted her contribution to this post. Ah well.

But yayyyy! David Tennant is 35 today! Just under 20 years older than me. Ho hum. But what a day to have a Birthday; Doctor Who premiers and gets eight million viewers! Huzzah!

Just posting quickly now because I won't be able to later. Swamped with GCSE work. Kill me now and spread my ashes in the Cuban seas.

Must go and complete my anti-royalist sentiment for English. May we meet again...

Rosby out. David Tennant gorgeous.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Oh baby, I'm beating out a samba!

OH MY GOD, IT WAS BRILLIANT! FANTASTIC! ....DAVID TENNANT GORGEOUS EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! But more of that later; there is more pressing news to report: I am back! Am back from an absolutely heavenly week and a half in Cuba, and here to give you the full report. Hurrah!

After an eternity of waiting, checking in, lugging huge suitcases around and being christened to the joys of Sudoku, me, Dad, Mum, Deborah, Gerald, Fran and (an astonishly cheerful) Joe finally embarked onto the plane and took off into the sky. Woohoo!

After about eight and a half hours tensions were beginning to mount; Joe's bright mood had dimmed considerably and he was throwing a hissy fit every time I accidentally bruhed against his arm or leg. We were so SO SO SO bored. FINALLY, we landed, and we stepped off the plane steps onto Cuban ground.

My first thought was that the air felt like a greenhouse; it was very humid, and it was comfortably warm and lovely and wonderful etc. It didn't take long to get through customs, or whatever it's called when you show the terse Cuban official your passport and a million other things with your name on. Anyway, after picking up our bags, finding our way out, and after what seemed like a LONG, LONG coach journey where all of us were tired, cranky and bad-tempered beyond belief, after a huge and complicated mix-up of the rooms where Deborah had to protest in light-speed spanish that none of us understood, I was shown to my room.

And low and behold, I was spellbound.

I had a balcony. With a hammock.

Well, I did the sensible thing and went straight to bed (I was literally falling asleep while standing up) and slept. Meanwhile, my six other companions staggered off to the bar for cocktails and (although this is just a guess) got hideously, horribly drunk and departed to bed at about three in the morning, with the result that everyone was exhausted and jet-lagged for several days.

And me? Well, jet lag seemed to do me good; at seven o'clock I woke up and transferred myself to my hammock and looked down over the resort. Our bit of the resort, anyway, it's huge. There was a pool. At about nine Mum and Dad (who was sporting a hideous, Brokeback Mountain-esque hat) collected me and we find our way to breakfast, with the hungover others.

Fresh pineapple for breakfast, every day. I'm going to miss that. Anyway, after that (and a lot more kerfuffle) we found our way to the boiling beach and spent the rest of the day (not counting when we stopped for chips) on it, or in the warm, Cuban sea.

Days 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and half of day 8 were spent in a similar vein; spending the day on the beach (although after a couple of days we found a tiny weeny beach just along the bay and claimed that as our own), swimming, sunbathing, reading, eating, then in the afternoon we would slowly disperse and get ready for dinner (and watch American TV, if you were me) in the bedrooms, until dinnertime.

Whereupon we would eat and the adults would get hideously drunk for the night. On cocktails. Again.

It was absolutely sublime; everybody loved it. It's so LIBERATING being able to walk around in a bikini and a sarong and not freeze to death or get stared at. Actually, I was stared at a bit, and *whistled* at, by many gorgeous gorgeous Cuban boys, which was a new experience. Yummy. Heeeee...

Anway, not meaning to toot my own horn, but I managed to maintain looking rather gorgeous throughout the whole holiday; I was very proud. I also played water volleyball with a load of Canadians, and embarassed myself completely. Nothing new there, then...

On day 8 (approximately, I wasn't counting) we packed our things, checked out, went to Holguin airport and got the plane to Havana, which is very different. We stayed at the Hotel Nacional - which is a *very* fancy hotel with room-service and everything! Apparently Kate Moss has stayed there before, as have many other famous people. We dd actually see a camera crew, but no celebrities this time.

Day 9 we spent the day in Havana, walking through the city. Havana is where you really see how the Cubans live; the majority of it is very run-down and some buildings have just been abandoned; it was very sad. We were accosted by a lot of beggars as well; tourists bring in a lot of money to the country and they needed it, evidently.

Anway, we visited the revolution museum (which I'm sure would have been interesting if I'd understood anything of what happened) and found out that Che Gevara (approximation, I have no idea how to spell his name) is the face on nearly everything at Phoenix. He was a Cuban revolutionry, apparently.

We ate lunch and looked in shops and strolled through the town until me and Fran (Deborah's daughter - 18) got hideously bored and hailed a taxi to take us to the hotel, whereupon we spent the day lounging around by the pool. Ahhh...

Evening - dinner - drunkenness - usual routine.

On the last day we packed up, checked out and got on the bus for Havana airport. WARNING - *never* go there. It is a queue-infested, boiling hell-hole. It was so BORING. We were at the back of a massive queue to get our luggage shrink-wrapped, then another huge queue to check in, then another massive one to show the terse Cuban officials the passports, etc. And seriously - have they never heard of air conditioning? One man in our line fainted because of the heat - it was awful.

And then I had a bizarre argument with the terse official when they asked for my age.

"I'm fifteen."
"No, fifteen."

Couldn't she have looked at my passport...?

Anyway, then another smaller queue for hand luggage searching, metal detector etc, then after a surprisingly short time we boarded the plane. As Dad said, we were in serious danger of actually taking off on time, but then something went wrong with the plane and it sort of rumbled an juddered around for about half an hour before finally taxying (sp?) and taking off.

Usual routine once more - nine hours of total boredom.

Then we landed in blessed, cold England at 10 in the morning, completely jet-lagged and exhausted; we seemed to have gained five hours out of nowhere. After a mammoth walk to the luggage reclaim, an embarassing instance involving my suitcase and me running along trying to heave it off the conveyer belt, a three hour taxi drive home, we were...well, home. At about half past one. I would have blogged, but I was completely disorientated and it took me a while to regroup. I'm fine now.

So...that was my holiday. By reading this, you can't really grasp how utterly brilliant and amazing it was. It was FANTABULOUS. I loved it, and I am definitely going again someday. I just need to learn more Spanish.

Then along came 7:15, and I think you can guess where I was.

That's right.

He's back.

DOCTOR WHO IS BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was utterly, utterly, utterly BRILLIANT AND FANTASTIC!!! I adored it, I really did! I was in absolute hysterics; it was hysterical!

"Watch out for the disinfectant!"
"The what?"
"THE DISINFEC...oh, you'll find out."

"Oh my God, I'm...a chav!"

And that kiss....ooooohhhh, she's a lucky girl.

But the absolute funniest bit was the Doctor/Cassandra moments.

"Oh...OH, two hearts! Oh baby, I'm breaking out in a samba!"

I literally fell off the sofa laughing at this point.

"What would he do? The Doctor, what the hell would he do?"
"We need to climb that!"
"Out of the way, blondie!"

"God, it was tedious being inside your head. Hormone city."

And Billie Piper:

"Oh, chavtastic again."

And it was great; David Tennant was utterly fantastic, none of the little flaws that he admittedly had in the Christman Invasion; he was different, brilliant, really good. So was Billie Piper.

And it's back! And I'm recording it! And it's back! Gorgeous David Tennat for three more months!!!!

Ooh, I'm getting feverish. David Tennant is FOXY!!!

"So technically this is new new new new new new new new new new new new new new new York."


Rosby out. Please comment!

Monday, April 03, 2006




Ann-Kathrin officially rules! This is why:

We'd been dicussing gorgeousness of the acting trade (Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom (who she adores, by the way) etc.) and the following exchange took place:

Me: [pointing to the screen at a David Tennant picture in full Doc costume] I like him, but Tash and Katherine say I'm mad because they think he's ugly.
Ann-Kathrin: No, he's cute!

And she WASN'T being sarcastic, before you say, she was being genuine. So HA! HA! HA! Even across the channel people agree with me, so screw you Tash, Kat, Anna (Lezkiewicz - is that right?) you are in the minority! HA! And if you want more evidence, check this, this, this, this (scroll down), this, and above all, this. And that's just the tip of of the iceberg, baby.

Also managed to reduce Ann-Kathrin to hysteria by telling the old fable about my last trip in Bourton involving 50 Brownies, a bird park, a penguin and an ice cream. She goes home tomorrow :( but I'm very pleased that it all went well; I was dead nervous, but it was a complete success! Am now signing off to go and play table football. (At which she is far better than me - and I am above average!)


Saturday, April 01, 2006

Jimmy Carr is coming!
Dylan Moran is coming!
Paul Merton is coming!

Oh, how I love the theatre...I have GOT to get me some tickets to those shows. Shouldn't be too hard when you know someone in the business, i.e. my mum. (She is a theatre reviewer, as well as her normal job.) Heee.

Watched the Richard and Judy (ugh, honestly) book awards today. Was VERY VERY unimpressed at it all, despite the fact that The Time Traveller's Wife (best book ever written) won an award! Hurrah!

AND (a point of extreme frustration which I expressed to my mother repeatedly) why in God, David Tennant, or any deity's name was bloody Chantelle winner-of-"celebrity"-big-brother there? What on earth has she done to deserve a place among authors of great literature? Has she written a book? Has she done ANYTHING to deserve the fame, money, and attention she now recieves? What about:

  • Dave Pelzer?
  • Khaled Hoessini?
  • Michael Moore?
  • Every single member of the Chernobyl group?

Instead, we have:

  • Chantelle and Preston (who are famous for...well, I don't actually know)
  • Victoria Beckham (famous for being married to a footballer)
  • The royal family (don't get me started)
  • Kate Moss (famous for snorting coke)
  • Carol Thatcher (famous for being daughter of Margaret Thatcher and winning a crap and staged "reality" show)

Ugh, it makes me so mad. Anyone have Chantelle's e-mail address? I want to send her...well, not hate mail. Admonishing (is that a real word?) mail, maybe.

Ann-Kathrin is here, by the way. We went to Bourton-on-the-water today, which is a lovely lovely place, and I have resolved to go and live there when I retire from (hopefully) my writing career. Or journalism, or PR, or advertising.

We watched Bruce Almighty as well, and played cards and went to park etc. I think she's enjoying herself; she's more cheerful than Hanna was, anyway. (My last exchange partner.)

POO AND ARSEING CRAP I missed the first Green Wing episode! Can anyone fill me in? There again, I was enjoying my birthday party at the time; I had an excuse. 'Twas FUNFUN. We went bowling and played air hockey, and ate the hugest pizza ever made. Speaking of my party:

Darn. Was gonna put a photo of me, Kimmy, Alice and Aimee on here. Technology is overrated. Anyway, better go. Listening to Sheryl Crow.