Does anyone else think that the title to this show is freaking hilarious? I know what it means, but it still makes me think it’s referring to someone who is mental in the slang sense. Watch our show about the crazy person!
It’s pretty much just a serious version of Psych, and even after the first episode I’m not sure if it’ll be worth it. Simon Baker does a great American accent, and his smirking about the place is highly amusing, but everyone else kind of sucks.
I did find it hilarious that in the bump (the “stay tuned for scenes from the next episode” bit), Baker used his own accent. I can imagine that was maybe confusing for people who don’t know he’s Australian.
Filed under: Entertainment | Tags: dullsville, tv, vampires, why doesn't work have a naptime?
I’ve never been a Joss Whedon fan, the crazy loyal ones like he seems to attract. I never saw a full episode of Buffy, but I had a roommate who was obsessed with it, so it was always on in my apartment for a while there. I kind of thought it was absolute crap, and was amused that it warranted a spin off.
But, after watching and really liking Firefly, and the pure joy that was Dr. Horrible’s Sing Along Blog, I’m coming around to appreciate Joss. I like both those things very much, but will still never find it necessary to watch Buffy.
The thing is, I also have a major crush on David Boreanz’s FBI agent character on Bones. And it’s mind-numbingly slow at work this week. Like, beat your head against the wall, lose half the day counting the holes in the ceiling tiles kind of slow. And Hulu has the first season of Angel, so I thought I’d give it a go.
Yeah, it’s pretty much crap. The plots are weird and contrived and the weird shifty thing that the vampire’s face does really pisses me off. Boreanz is still super cute though, and there’s a whole unrequited love angle that I am a sucker for, so it’s watchable at least. Better than counting the ceiling tiles.
Charisma Carpenter, however, is … something else. I mean, holy mackerel is she pretty, that’s for certain. Also, a pretty terrible actress. I’m only a couple episodes in, but I really hope the Ditzy McTwiddlypants act stops soon, because it’s starting to get extremely annoying
Hulu.com has all four seasons of Doogie Howser, M.D.. That’s so fun! Watching a 16 year old Neil Patrick Harris dance around to Tone Loc’s “Wild Thing” is freaking hysterical.
I somehow managed to pull every muscle on the left hand side of my torso yesterday. For a minute there I thought I was having chest pains and was trying to figure out who I could call to bring me to the ER. Then I realized the pain was external, not internal, and set about whinging about it. I’m assuming that I slept on it wrong, with my arm up under my head (the better to cuddle with) and just wrenched the whole works.
So now there’s a dull ache from my shoulder to the bottom of my ribs. Just enough that I forget about it and then rotate my torso or lift my arm and send pain searing up my side again. Good times.
After finishing Serenity, do you know what I think I like best about the whole series? There aren’t any aliens. It’s a perfectly logical vision of the future without any preposterous space creatures. Nothing with tentacles, no humanoid beings with randomly painted stripes or other abnormalities. Not that I don’t believe that there are probably aliens out there somewhere, I just think that sci-fi depictions of them are usually completely insane. Also, they made up a language simply so that they could swear. That amuses me.
I did, in fact, spend time at the beach this weekend. I am a slightly less white shade of pasty as a result. I stepped on a jellyfish when I was coming out of the water, but luckily it was sleeping or dead and didn’t sting me. Felt really, really creepy though.
You know how it is? When you’ve had just a little whiskey and just a little less food? You’re tipsy enough to be giggling, but not drunk enough to be weaving in your step? I like this place.
This is all despite the fact that I got myself out of my nice, warm bed at 3:00 this morning to go fetch a drunk friend. THREE A.M. the phone rings and I hear “Do you want the best massage of your life?” Well, yes. Yes, I do. But something tells me darling that you won’t be able to give it to me right now. Lucky for him, due to insane forces of nature, I wasn’t actually asleep yet. Lucky for me, he delivered on the massage. Still, that boy owes me like nobody’s business.
Now, I’m curled up, sans massager, with my whiskey and back to back episodes of Charm City Cakes. I’m trying not to think about the fact that tomorrow is Monday.
Holy crap. Now Billy Idol is on VH1 Classic, singing “Mony, Mony.” He doesn’t look a day older, but I feel like I’m in junior high again, and that was a long damn time ago.
