Monthly Archives: May 2008

Vroom! Vroom!

I was going to write a lengthy post tonight about what I thought of the new Indiana Jones movie. Instead, I found myself flicking TV channels and stumbling across a documentary about men who have sex with cars.

Normally I wouldn’t watch such rubbish, but this time… I couldn’t turn away. It wasn’t so much ‘car crash television’ as ‘car pash television’.

Men. Who. Have. Sex. With. Cars.

Like, properly.

Now, I love certain cars. The Gran Torino from Starsky & Hutch and the Chevy Impala from Supernatural are pretty much objects of desire for me, too, but actually having sex with them?

Holy tailpipe!

Indy will have to wait. Sorry. I’m scrubbing my eyeballs right now and wishing I could do the same to my brain.



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The Pursuit Of Filminess

Ironically, the day after I posted a message saying that I’d hurt my wrist, it got a lot better. So much for any sympathy that might have been headed my way!

However, I’m still wearing bandages, using heat patches and massaging it, while also doing the same for the other wrist, which I swear is only aching because it’s jealous of all the attention its partner is getting. But it’s not stopped me from working, thank goodness: so far today I’ve transcribed two phone interviews, started my next Rewind feature for SFX, tweaked a piece I scribbled for Judge Dredd Megazine, discussed amendments to an advertorial for Total Film and sent off some invoices. Phew!

I also watched The Pursuit of Happyness, which was mediocre, if you excuse Will Smith’s son Jaden being the Personification of Cute. Happyness is just a small part of my ongoing plan to watch every goddamn DVD I can get my hands on from now onwards; I know a lot about movies but it’s so easy to fall behind, and there are some crucial gaps in my knowledge for older films, too.  Tonight I have Disturbia lined up, or possibly Goodbye Bafana (it depends on how I’m feeling).  Tomorrow Rocky III arrives from my Amazon rental list (I’ve never seen it), and last weekend I saw Blood Diamond (which had a good message but got a bit silly at times – great performance from DiCaprio, however), Snakes On A Plane (rubbish, but I will admit that I laughed a lot) and Apocalypto (brilliant, except for the stupid quicksand bit because quicksand only exists in the movies and not in real life and you’d have thought the screenwriters would have checked something like that before being dumb enough to put it in the script).

On a classier note, last night I sat down to watch 1967’s Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner.  I really enjoyed it, particularly the moment when Sidney Poitier tells his father, “You think of yourself as a coloured man. I think of myself as a man.” Ouch… Oh, and knowing that Spencer Tracy died 17 days after the end of filming gave all his scenes with Katharine Hepburn an added poignancy, too, and his final monologue was unbearably sad because of this knowledge. I had a genuine lump in my throat when the credits rolled.

But, as is the way with geeks like me, it didn’t last long, because I called my friend Paul to talk about the movie and for a moment we had our wires crossed because last week’s episode of Battlestar Galactica was called Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner, too.

Hmm. Which came first: my desire to see the 1967 movie, or me seeing the title of the episode? I fear I am easily influenced, even if I don’t always notice…


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It’s All In The Wrist…

I haven’t posted anything for over a week for a very simple reason: I’ve sprained my wrist.

Nothing serious, and it’s already getting better, but my other wrist has started aching because I’m overcompensating for the poorly one, and I’m having to wear a support bandage on each wrist all the time while they recover, which has the unfortunate side-effect of making it look as though I’ve been getting experimental with razorblades and veins (urgh). And the whole wrist-issue thing means I’m trying to avoid unnecessary typing because I have so much necessary typing to do in order to pay my bills.

So, uh, that’s why I haven’t posted anything.

I would have posted my reaction to last week’s Supernatural finale, for instance, but I wasn’t actually able to form a coherent sentence after watching it because it… well… without giving anything away, it was… oh bugger, just watch it. Or I would have written about last week’s episode of Battlestar Galactica, which contained the best use of the word “jump” in the history of television. Or, failing that, I would have written about how annoyed I am that my tickets to the press screening of the new Indiana Jones movie haven’t turned up, but it’s pointless to sulk because it’s opening on Thursday anyway.

Which means my poorly wrists have saved you from two fangirl “SQUEEEEES!” and a whinge.

See? It’s not all bad, is it?


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Dramatic Lemur

This kind of nonsense is what the internet was MADE for.

(Oh, and turn up your sound…)

Also… doesn’t he look like Ben from Lost?


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The Heat Is On

It’s very hot today and I am now well into my grumpy “I hate summer” persona. I’m sitting in my lounge with three – yes, THREE – fans twirling the air as hard as they can, and my poor attic flat is still roasting away under the sun like the Kalahari Desert in July.

I hate this time of year. In fact, I hate this time of year all the way to October. One day I’ll get my act together and spend winters in the UK and summers in New Zealand, but until then I’m going to have to suffer.

However, I am a little tickled by the fact my fans keep making the cape on the toy Superman figure behind my TV billow out behind him like he’s flying. It’s a small silver lining, true, but it’s all I have.

I hope you’re enjoying the sun, even if I’m not.

(Weirdo summer-worshipping freaks…)


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Up, Up And Not Going Away

Phew! I’m as busy as a bee preparing for the Honey Olympics at the moment, so it occurred to me that I’d better post something before you think I’m ignoring the comments you’ve been heaping so liberally upon this blog. (And seriously, guys, if you’re all gonna talk to each other in my absence you should really get a room.)

Things I’ve done recently:

A mammoth walk around Richmond Park with my friend Paul which resulted in us somehow getting tonnes of sand in our shoes; lots of sub-editing on the magazine formerly known as DVD Review but now known as DVD & Blu-ray Review; several picnics in Regent’s Park during lunch breaks (including an amusing stroll today with my mate Keely in which we professed undying lust for a certain New Zealand actor who got his big break as Julius Caesar); much viewing of Twin Peaks and the decision to write my next SFX column on the show (thank you for all your comments!); more delving into my diary from 1983 and the warm ‘n’ fuzzy realisation that I spent most of my childhood either watching TV, playing in the park or reading – not a computer game in sight); and an afternoon spent at the Sci-Fi London Festival taking part in their annual quiz as part of the SFX team (we were THRASHED, though I still maintain the quiz was so difficult it took all the fun out of taking part).

I’ve also had the good fortune to do a few phone interviews for the Official Supernatural Magazine with some of the behind-the-scenes bods and a few guest stars, all of which has cemented my immense joy and appreciation for My Favourite Show On TV Right Now. I don’t know if any of you are following Supernatural‘s latest season but it’s just… stupendous. I love it so much I might even come back as a ghost and haunt its ass just to make the point.

Speaking of TV, I’ve just watched the latest Smallville – don’t worry, no spoilers, except to say it was a total fanboy geek-out – and I actually enjoyed it for once. As you’ve probably heard, Kristin Kreuk and Michael Rosenbaum have bailed on the next season, and reported today that with them gone, Allison Mack’s agents have (quite rightly) stepped into the vacuum and demanded she get more money for her work on the show. Hey, she’s important now; Smallville can’t consist of Lois and Clark alone. Or, as one reader pointed out: “Give her everything and anything she wants!! Otherwise they should just call this show Small.”

Hear, hear! Frankly, I can’t believe they’ve got the nerve to even make another year without so many members of the principal cast, and poor Tom Welling must be dying to get the hell outta that barn. I suppose the writers’ strike has far-reaching effects – with so few pilots commissioned, what would they replace Smallville with? They certainly couldn’t fill the timeslot with even more reality TV because The CW has already hit rock bottom with a show called Farmer Wants A Wife (you figure out the premise, I’m too depressed to explain it).

So on it goes… and, according to your personal opinion, it’s either not quite jumped the shark yet, or the shark is so far behind it that the finned fiend is in another ocean entirely. All I know is that I’m still loving the geeky shout-outs to the Superman mythos, but some episodes irritate me so much it’s like having bugs crawling under my skin while I watch them. But hell; at least it’s better than some reality shite about a farmer who needs a new woman…


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