Tee hee.
The 24 season premiere just ended — two 2-hour movies in two days, which is to say GayBoy and I had two dinners & a movies, but I was cheap and served a repeat tonight: leftover Chicken Pot Pie. BUT YOU AIN’T HAD MY PIE, so keep yer trap shut. It’s a good thang, baybey.
DOH! FEISTY BITCH THAT I AM… spoilers proceed! Avert thy eyes, series latecomers! Avert! Avert!
And to those of you in Los Angeles, my sympathies! Tragic, that detonation of a nuclear bomb, and on Martin Luther King day! Those fucking terrorists, how dare they. I had a dream, and it didn’t include a dirty suitcase bomb, you fuckers!
Heh. Pardon me. I’ve been slapped silly with a 1-litre bottle of red wine courtesy the fabulous GayBoy, but then again, I’d bought a bottle and figured the suspense of whether it was any good was too cruel a secret to keep in the wake of a dirty suitcase bomb wiping out hundreds of thousands of innocent lives in Los Angeles… even if it is the plastic surgery capitol of the world. I mean, if you’re gonna take out people, make it the plastic ones, right? Did I say that out loud, or just think it?
Ah, well.
Anyhow. I can’t help it. I’ve been a fan of 24 since season one, except for season three and parts of season four. Sheesh. And now I’m bitter that I only get it in digestible 1-hour segments from now until the end of the next 20 weeks. Curse you, Fox executives!!
I had a job interview today, one of three this week. I’m dialing shit up a notch since I’m motivated. Small matter of being informed on Friday that there’s 95% chance I’m to be laid off in, oh, nine days. Legally, no notice was required, but I’m a good person employed by good peoples, so they’re as cool as all get-out, and they’ve told me in advance.
I didn’t get the Friday job, but the odds are higher on today’s interview anyhow. (On Friday I got exposed to the true realities of that job, and suffice to say: I was intimidated. Not disappointed to have lost it other than the “it’d be nice to have food to eat” residual emotions there. Whatever. Onward and upward goes this girlie, I would hope.) Next week is my week. Something’s gonna pan out before long. I’m on my game and I know it.
Anyhoo. I have a half-glass of wine leftover. (I typed “whine” first. Freudian slip? Only time will tell.)
GO, JACK, GO. One mushroom cloud is one cloud too many! Even if it IS L.A… Ahem. I mean, Disneyland is there. How can the Happiest Place On Earth go up in a mushroom cloud? Tigger won’t be able to bitch-slap anymore kids, but still… The kid’s a punk. GO, TIGGER!
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ARRRGGGG, My local Time Warner cable has turned off the local fox affitate! BUT my ever resourcful son has downloaded the first FOUR hours of the new season (the first six come out on dvd tomorrow)on bit torrent. HA, take that Time fucking Warner!
Ahem…sorry steff, but you know us 24 fans…
and my son got me a cool Jack Bauer for President t-shirt too.
Hey, I happen to know Tigger; he’s a close, personal friend of mine… and that punk was asking for it! Kept demanding that the old boy prove he was still fun, fun, fun, fun, fun… of course he snapped! Alright, I’ll admit, jumping up and down on his chest and shouting “Who’s the only one NOW, bitch?! Who’s the only one?!?” was a bit excessive, but still…
Good luck with the interviews, Steff… I’m rootin’ for ya!
good luck this week chickie………..;)
Fusion– Sadly, Jack Bauer can never be president. HE’S CANADIAN! Proof further that this nation friggin’ kicks ass. Woot. And, yes, fuck Time Warner.
(Oh, DOH. Time Warner’s the bastardization of the formerly-known-as “Warner Bros.” Started by… YES, CANADIANS. Fuck, man, all the early American “Hollywood” players were Canadians! Like, the “American Sweetheart” Mary Pickford and Louis B. Mayer and Louis Dressler and Florence Lawrence and the KING of comedy, Mack Sennett (who made Chaplin a star), and Douglas Shearer, and Fay Wray, and, and, and, and… we’re not even outta the ’30s! Just call me Encyclopedia Steff. I wear my maple leaf on my sleeve, man!)
Citizen– I’m on Tigger’s side, man. Hey, bouncing is what Tiggers do best, even if it is on the chest of 13-year-olds. I think he missed his real-life opportunity to be the Masked Offender. Oh, HEY, wait! Maybe this was his debut as the UNMASKED Offender! Still. Go, Tigger! T-I-Double “GUH!”-RRRRRR!
Grrl– THANKS. I need it, me thinks.
But that brings me to the topic of the fact that I think you’ve all screwed the pooch as far as further posts between now and Friday are concerned. All of a sudden my panties, my hours, and my sanity are all in a bunch. Dunno if I’ve got anything for you. Lemme scour my hard drive tomorrow night and see if I can conjure something! I betcha there’s something in de depths. Something about men with penis issues, now that methinks ’bout it and all.