I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

Deleted lines from a Doctor Who script:

MARTHA: "Doctor, what's that bulge in your trouser pocket?"

ROSE: "Erm..."

Well...he does seem inordinately fond of the thing, doesn't he..?

I really am starting to think I'm cursed. Let's tick off the past 18 hours:

1. Slipped on stone in street last night, re-injured foot.

2. Woke up at half-past two (after less than 2 hours sleep), to find a big brown bat flapping over my head, and circling my little bedroom frantically.

3. Got back to sleep at half-past four in the morning--woken at half-past nine by really loud boom-box stereo, which the new guys that moved in over me, seem to have put on their floor, directly over where I sleep. Gee, thanks for that.

4. Took a bus to the store, got my shopping done, was about to walk back to the bus stop with shopping, when a thunderstorm hit--had to call a cab, which meant an extra 5 dollars I really don't have to spend, gone, plus, the cost of groceries went up again this week, and groceries that cost 35 dollars last week, cost over $40 this week.

5. I had to close my yahoo account, because I got literally hundreds of non-advert private e-mail spams (coming from/going to some business), that really belong to someone else's in-box.

6. I think there's something seriously wrong with me, because I'm having trouble breathing (only slightly) and feel very light-headed, and my heart is racing.

I have less than 300 dollars (150 pounds) in the bank, plus 200 I just got paid. I have to have 600 in place before the 20th, and I'm going to only bring in 120 dollars, next week, and maybe about the same, the week after. I owe 90 dollars for phone/internet by the 15th, and 131 dollars for gas/electric on the 25th. I just used all my cash at the store and on cab--and still have the expense of the laundry tomorrow. I wen through 60 dollars today, and have to spend another 15 or 20 tomorrow, going to the laundromat. I'm scared, damnit. Living from pay cheque to pay cheque is like walking a tightrope over a pit of fire...scary! And, my balance isn't the best in the world.

But..enough bad stuff. Save for my private blogs.

Boots had a ball, last night, with that bat--even after I'd shooed it into the living room and slammed the door shut, Boots wanted it..he was really agitated--in a "I'm a big cat hunter, let me at 'em!" kind of way. Charlie was slightly nonplussed, but soon as the excitement was over, he went back to sleep. But Flame--she was terrified! She hid under the bed all night, I don't think she slept much, either, because she's absolutely knackered today. She didn't even wake up for breakfast--and she's always waking me up to feed her! She's been zoned out, on her blanket, here, on the living room floor, for pretty much the whole day.

I'm tired, as well, and am going in to nap for a bit. Hopefully, I won't dream of any Egyptian curses--or bats. Maybe I'll dream about Dr Who..I do sometimes, ya'know.

Here's what to expect when David Tennant, Russell T. Davies, Phil, and the rest of the present crew, depart from the scene, 2008:

Before Willam Hartnell stepped into the Tardis control room for the first time there was...George Formby?

check out this great fan vid:

Just to let my blogland friends know, I've begun the therapy blog--digging into the less than great parts of my life and posting my thoughts/memories, as a form of emotional therapy.

It was pointed out that some of you may have missed the original post. Okay, no prob.

If you want to read my "therapy" posts, just leave a comment or message me, and I'll tick your name off on the list.

It doesn't a sticking point to me, who reads these posts--but, that said, I just don't feel comfortable posting this part of my life on here, where there's a real possibility that it could turn up on the WWW for every person on the internet to see.

Having lost my home and most of my highly dysfunctional family, not to mention a lot of other things, I've learned the value of having a home--a secure place that's your own, and people around you, familiar things. Add to that, knowing where you come from, your heritage, is a wonderful thing. I mean, it's okay if you don't know, but there's something ..solid, reassuring, in knowing where you come from.

I was reading about this aristocrat in the UK, a guy named Sir Benjamin Slade. How he can't afford his home anymore, and wants someone in the family to take it over--and searched for a relation that could do it.

Well, I suppose, if I could have done that with my home, I might have done that. I mean, it can hurt so bad to lose your home--in essence, your place in the world. Oh, there's lots of people, I'm sure, that home and family and heritage mean little to. But, I'm not one of them.

So, sorry to see Sir Slade lose his home--guess, like me, he can't find a job that pays enough to keep the roof over his head. And am glad he may have found a solution. I'm still looking for mine, but unlike Sir Slade, I don't seem to have one.

I was just watching the Dr Who episode, Daleks in Manhattan. One of the characters, in Hooverville, pulls aside the Doctor and points to the unfinished Empire State Building, and say, "So tell me Doctor, if they can do that, (meaning the building), how come there's so many of us starvin' right here in Manhattan?"

Well, you could say that same thing, today, about our country.

They spend billions on space shuttles and Iraq and the Nazi-like Homeland Security, and the war, corporate welfare...billions and billions of dollars.

So, then, why do Americans still go hungry? Why do so many of us work and still not have enough to eat? One of my co-workers works two jobs, and still went two days last week without eating.

Why do people suffer and die--again, millions---due to lack of ANY healthcare--or, at best, inadequete health care?

Why have so many of us, lost our homes?

We are surrounded by wealth and plenty--as our fellow Americans live as if we don't exist...it's the Depression all over again--only this time, America's poor, are even more invisible.

"Erm--no, don't want to taste your saliva, thanks."


"I'm gonna' knock the stuffing outta' him!"


"Okay, Freema, Simon says, 'make a stupid face!'"

Okay, tell me again, I'm not a friggin' loser!

I slip on a stone in the street, coming home last night from work, now my ankle is all bruised and my foot as well, and all swollen and sore.

At half-past two in the morning--Boots went totally insane, bouncing and racing all over my bed and yelling his head off. The reason: there was a great big bat (about a 6-inch wingspan) flying around my head, and around my tiny little bedroom. Fan-friggin-tastic. At first I'd thought it was a big moth--I wish. I can live with a small dead bat in my kitchen, but seeing a very large specimen, flying round my head, and circling my little bedroom in the middle of the night--how does the Doctor do it, week after week?

So, after doing the "Ahhh!" thing several times like a good girl, and running into the kitchen with nothing but a blanket 'round me (it was 84 F in my bedroom--hot and stuffy), I snatched some dirty laundry from the pile in the loo, took a deep breath, and ran back into the bed room. Then, I managed to get into the living room, throw open the sliding window wide--waiting for Mr. Bat to fly in, yelled a bit more when he did--and made a bee-line towards me, quickly slammed the door shut....and am now sitting here, praying fervently that Mr. Bat took the hint and flew outside.

And...the "nice young boys" that just moved in over my head, in the attic apartment, woke me this morning by blasting their stereo, which is even now being countered, by me blasting the Proclaimers.

Oh yeah...and got the news the other night, that they're ditching Doctor Who next year.

I HATE my life!!!! I hate my life!!! I miss having a home of my own. Life sucks. Yes, it's time to open Pandora's box.

You don't have to travel to upstate New York or Vermont to meet the typical American farmer--here's a video interview of one of our hardy, intrepid, salt-of-the-earth Farm guys:

I am waiting for dinner (beef and bean chimichangas) to finish nuking in the microwave, and am totally out of ideas as to what to write--"Ah-ha!" She says, "why don't you really bore your readers--as a public service?

I mean, it's after 11pm here, and going on stupid O'clock in the morning in the UK, someone must need some sleep, ey?

So, out of sheer boredom (no, stop groaning, it's not another poem)...I bring you, ten totally insignificant and useless facts about--ME!

1. I hate fresh fruit (except sometimes, apples)

2. When I shower, I nearly always start with my left arm--no clue why.

3. My favourite arcade game is the Western Marshall virtual shoot out, using a real-size plastic gun.

4. The first and second toes on both my feet are webbed. It runs on mum's side of the family.

5. I'm sort of scared of moths.

6. I can name all the individual parts of a western saddle.

7. I still know the phone number of the place back home, that we used to order pizza from, some 25 years ago.

8. I tend to unknowingly rub the top my ear when I'm deep in thought or tired.

8. I can remove my bra without getting unclothed.

9. I'm allergic to theatrical make-up remover.

10. I like going barefoot.