I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

It's a mild day, here, overcast and breezy, with a hint of stormy weather in the air.

I've been belted about by life's storms lately...I'm thinking once too often. Quite frankly, I'm about ready to go down with the ship, and gladly. Peace at last. It's the only way to finally get some rest from life's turbulence that I can think of.

I'm serious, I'm damned tired of it all. What the hell's the point? I get a break in the weather, sometimes, becalmed in life's seas--but then, get struck by a nor'easter, and it's back in the poo again, for me. This time, I'm facing the Perfect Storm, and I don't really think I care whether I drown at sea or not, to be quite honest.

It would have been nice, getting published, or having one of my stupid short plays read--but let's face reality here--got no talent. Period. No talent, no image, no money--and yes, it takes money to make money--it takes image to be a success. That's really how life is, no getting around it. It's not what you know, or how well you do it, it's how well you look, who you know, and how much power and/or money you have. Life in the REAL world. Or, at least, in America.

So, I'm lost at sea. Life is going to eat me alive--and I've decided to just let it. So what? Every one I've turned to for help has turned me away--state workers, feds, advocates--I'm rubbish. Life is having me for breakfast. Well, one of my distant ancestors was eaten (he was marooned in a shipwreck and later consumed by his starving shipmates)..so why not carry on the family tradition, let myself be life's corn flakes?

Someone sent me this link to something Tennant had done for some TV series. I didn't catch all of it, as the Scots is just a bit too broad for my northeastern NY ears--but I did manage to get most of it. Anyway, I think Tennant is quite pretty as a gal--in fact, I literally think he's nicer looking in drag, than when he's unshaved and mussy-haired. No, really. He's much prettier than me, I'm almost jealous.

Actually, he did a great job in this role, a fine actor, honest.

We didn't have video games, when I was a child, and only had 3 TV stations to choose from as well, so we made our own fun, mostly.

We listened to records a lot--mostly singles, but sometimes someone would bring over an lp album they'd just got. One of the neighbours had a big stereo system, so we often went to their house to listen--but we might go to any of the 8 or so houses on the street (two homes were owned by childless/retired couples) and party. Sometimes, they wound up in our cellar--we even set up a "club" sometimes, stringing a curtain across a closeline and using an old photographic light stand (sans bulb) as our "mic."

I remember there was this song by Tony Orlando and Dawn, "Knock Three Times," and we just drove poor mum nuts, upstairs in the kitchen. That's because when Tony sang "knock three times on the ceiling"--erm--we did. And "twice on the pipe"--well, the supports in the cellar were metal pipe, that we hit with a hard object (I forget what), and you can just imagine, I think, what good ol' mum thought of that.

Sometimes we'd have little shows and things. For instance, we'd draped a blanket over the back window of our station wagon, and made a puppet show. Another time we used one of those crazy "eight balls" to pretend that we were fortune tellers. One time, I buried a Barbie doll and made a treasure map for the other kids to find.

My friend Tommy and I used to get broom handles and metal rubbish can lids, and pretend we were knights. One time, he got a toy musket and we were Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett (conveniently ignoring the fact that these two historic frontier figures lived in two different centuries), and sometimes cowboys, from shows like Streets of Laredo, Cowboy in Africa, High Chapparel, the Virginan and the Rifeman. We might take to the woods and play forest rangers (inspired by the late 60's, early 1970's version of the TV show, "Lassie," who's new owner was a California forest ranger), and we sometimes played WWII soldiers, as well as spies from Man from U.N.C.L.E.--a lot of us played that, when it was on TV. There is the abandoned foundation walls and cellar of a long gone house in the woods, and that was our "spy base"--the old cellar hole being the dungeon or, alternately, the bad guys headquarters.

We used to go fishing--one time in the pouring rain, using big trash (bin) bags as rain slickers, or we'd ride our bikes all over the village. We might go swimming or explore the woods or cemeteries next door. We'd go to the movies together, play board games like Sorry (similar to Ludo), Monopoly, Operation and others. We were, I remember, for a time, especially fond of Operation. And Mystery Date! Let's not forget that--oh, we loved that game. We played Old Maid and other card games sometimes, too.

And we had our dolls--especially Barbie and friends, with all the clothes, mum always bought us Barbie clothes when they went on sale. And I had a western doll, for a time, Johnny West and his horse...loved those. I had a fantastic western playset--my all-time favourtie, came in a metal carry case which opened to display buildings and grounds--Fort Apache. It was very realistic. And I had the Britains figurines--cowboys, crusaders and Queens guards. And we all had Tonka trucks and/or Hot Wheels or Matchbox cars.

We played kickball (like baseball but with a soccer ball), Run the Bases (like baseball, but with only 2 bases, and less players--even 2 could play this game), softball/baseball(in the village's summer league), horseshoe pitching, croquet, bowling (at the bowling alley), basketball and pool (snooker?).

We never really ever ran out of stuff to do--and we didn't have videos, video games--and we didn't often sit around (well, we did sometimes) going, "I'm bored."

"Grazing Miss Albany" was shot yesterday, at a historic Albany, NY diner dating from the early 1940's.

The Miss Albany Diner dates to about 1941 and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It was featured in a scene with Meryl Streep (Jack Nickolson's scene at the diner was later cut) in a feature film in the late 1980's.

The diner is located in north Albany, near an industrialized section of the city that was once known as "the lumber district." This part of the city later housed the city's last brewery, the Schaffer Brewery, which went under, finally, in the late 1970's. However, many warehouses and other small businesses still remain in the area, such as a theater supply house, office supplies, National Grid offices and other businesses still give Miss Albany plenty of business.

The film--which is still awaiting investors to the tune of $300,000--is an indy film by a production company from a local college--RPI in nearby Troy, NY. It is about new owners taking over an old-fashioned hometown diner, and turning it into an all-you-can-eat buffet, and the results of that big change.

I ate there once or twice as a child, as it was fairly close by from my old home village--good hamburgers as I recall. The diner is less than a mile from the city/village line. It looked a bit different in my day, though--the present exterior was changed for the film, "Ironweed." Also, the cowhead is new--I believe it's Elsie the cow, the famous "mascot" jersey cow from the now defunct Borden's dairy, which used to be in my village.

Anoraks unite! We finally have a theme song:

Found this little Dr Who skit online:

Another reason why I hate telemarketing: stupid answering machines!

With extreme emphasis on the word, "stupid."

I am here to tell all you parents out there, I know you love your little rugs--erm, children, but when it comes to letting them do the message for your answering machine--don't. I mean it, don't. I know you think your little wonders are adorable, but to everyone else (except maybe gran and grandad) well...sorry, but it's worse then having to listen to Amy Winehouse (no offence to Ms. Winehouse, who's a talented gal, really), and fingernails being raked across a chalkboard, both at the same time.

But...if you really want to show the world what a complete moron you are, do this: "Hello? Hello? I can't hear you---SO I MUST NOT BE HERE, HA-HA-HA!" Okay, if you want everyone who rings you up, to mutter obscenities and call you an idiot arse, that's the perfect recording.

Oh, then there's the singers--do I really have to go there? And the pet owners that let their cat or dog do the recording--yes, they do, and it sounds over the phone, as ridiculous as it sounds in print, here.

And then, there's the butch, drunken, redneck (chav) biker dudes: "You know what to do, so just do it and get it over with." Charming. I keep trying to imagine the sort of dates these guys get (if any)--yuck. No.

And then, there's the "happy" people. Yeah. Got one tonight--twice. Went something like this:

(Woman with a chirrupy bird-like voice): "hello! How are you? I am blessed and so are you..." Oh man! After this one, all I could think of was the "Barney" song: "I love you, you love me..." Bleh! Phooey! Bleck!

Oh yeah, I'm blessed, --oh yeah, I'm real blessed, that's why I'm flippin' telemarketing for a living! Right, Barney-lady, whatever you say.