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Posts archive for: July, 2007
  • Borrowed from GilraaenH, who got it from Meno:

    Shakespeare or the Bible: No contest, sorry God, but Shakespeare, hands down.

    Most romantic quote in fiction: I can't remember the quote--okay, I'm on my lunch hour here at home, and don't especially feel like wandering over to the book case to look it up--but, it's from Wuthering Heights, the final kiss at the end--or, if you you haven't read it, the last kiss in the film--the old B&W one, with Lawwrence Oliver as Heathcliff. And, they didn't need any disgustingly loud snogging noises, to make their point, either, back then.

    Favourtie word: Don't have one, that I know of--I like 'em all--except certain cuss words, and the word "debt," don't like that one, not in the least--oh, or the word, "fired," and "eviction," that's a nasty word, as well.

    Most underated writer(s): No clue. I absolutely don't follow--or honestly care-- who's overrated or underrated, I just read whatever grabs me at the moment, so I have no idea who's popular and who is underated. I suppose, if I were a librarian, I'd have to know, but I'm not.

    Best Meal in fiction: In The Walking Drum, the main character went to a lavish MiddleEastern dinner party in Medieval Spain: Carra bige--chopped nuts mixed with sugar and melted butter, rolled in a pastry and baked and served with Natif--a fluffy mix of sugar, egg white and orange flower water, rice with sour lemon sauce, Egyptian pilaf, Egyptian fritters called shebach, two kinds of olives, artichoke hearts fried in batter, kebaeba--made w/ beef, pine nuts and crushed wheat, smoking hot skewers of lamb, veal and beef kebabs--served with a wide variety of sauces, a Syrian dessert made from quince, cardamon seeds and and ground almonds, rose jam, wine from Greece, Italy and Portugal, coffee with sugar. Now THAT'S a meal!

    Favourite novel in translation: One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich

    Favourite Children's Book: (two-way tie): Afraid to Ride, C.W. Anderson, King of the Wind, M. Henry.

    Current bedside book(s): Shakespeare as Dramatic Artist, and Players, by Terrence Dicks (Dr Who).

    Sexiest book(s): Don't have one. Not important to me...tho' I did read one rather erotic romance novel, back in the 80's that got me a little hot and bothered, about this 18th Century woman who's kidnapped off a sailing ship to become a Sultan's love slave, but in turn gets kidnapped from the sultan by a rival nomad prince--and what ensues...whew! Made "Casenova" look tame, by comparison, ha-ha. Hey, I may be an old maid, but I ain't dead!

  • Dr Who Captions for Tuesday

    Got a long day today--10 to 10 split shift, again. Thought I'd start the day with a little modest humour.


    NURSE: "So, John, what's this 'genetic transfer' you dreamed about?" JS: "I think it's also called, 'snogging.'


    "Okay, who's bright idea was it, to feed the crew beans and cabbage for lunch?"


    In this episode, the doctor defeats the monster by singing (I'm Gonna' be) 500 Miles, very loudly, off-key.

  • There IS Global Warming

  • Accord Hospice Drabble-a-thon: Day 10

    Here I am again, day 10, story #10, of Drabble-a-thon, for Accord Hospice, in Paisley, Scotland. Please help out this fantastic charity, by sponsoring me with a small donation. It's easy and totally secure. Just click on one of the links at the top of each blog page--Justgiving.com will donate funds direct to Accord, and they do take credit and debit cards. For those in the UK, there's also a telephone number, if you have a cash donation.

    Thanks for your support, everyone, bless. Your great kindness is very much appreciated.

    DAY 10

    STORY #10

    Some Things Never Change

    Bill gazed at the lake’s dark waters, the dense forest surrounding it. His wife, Alice sat beside him in the canoe, eying their Indian guide. The tall warrior paddled across the wide lake, towards Bill’s new cabin. “You be quiet,” he commanded, “lake spirit no like noise. Spirit will waken, rise up, smash canoe--we drown.”

    The lake was deep and cold. The Indian paddled in eerie silence. Abruptly, Alice spoke loudly, “Why’s it so quiet?” The warrior froze--then shrugged and kept paddling. “It alright,” the Indian said, “spirit knows woman can’t shut up for more than five minutes.”

  • Barrowman shags David Tennant!

    I needed a good laugh, and this did the trick.

    Many thanks to L__, a devoted DT fan, who sent me the link to this clip. (Why does everyone think I'm a DT fan, for pity's sake? I love his acting, and as I've said, he seems a charming young man--but he's too young for me, and I don't have a single fantasy about the man--okay, well there was this time, once, lying in my hospital bed, bored... ;D )

  • End of a long day...wel..almost.

    Hey, I must be doing something right--just Googled "Accord Hospice"...and I'm listed in the number 6 spot on Google's search engine--Hey, I made it to Google's top ten, when it comes to accord! Not bad for only 9 days on in this fund raiser--and I couldn't have gotten there without the help of my blog friends.

    So, just got home from work, about half-past ten. Shoved one of those $2 Dinty Moore's roast beef and mashed ready meals in the microwave, along with some frozen peas, had a quick supper, and now..here I am.

    I'm sooo--tired! I was stumbling over my scripts tonight. Only two sales all day, not good. They don't pay me to not make sales. Oh well. Got some oddballs, as usual:

    ME: "Hello, may I please speak to Harold?"

    WOMAN: "No."

    ME: "Well, Is there a good time I can reach him?"

    WOMAN: "He ain't here now."

    ME: (thinking--"Okaay, then, gonna' be one of those calls) "Is Mr. _______ still living at this address? I'm calling from his _________club."

    WOMAN: "He don't get that no more."

    ME: "Oh. May I ask, was there a problem with his membership, do you know?"

    WOMAN: "No. He died."

    And that, folks, is a conversation with your typical "average" American. Any wonder why I long to flee from my country?

  • Autumn in New York

    It's hot enough today, to make me long for autumn. I'd give anything to get out of this city. Our office is doing a lake cruise, up to Lake George, next Thursday, but I opted not to go--one, there was a matter of a ten dollar deposit--refundable, but I just didn't have it to spare, that' outta' my food budget--to spend the night with a mess of drunken co-workers on a hot crowded boat, drifting lazily down a lake and back--no, I'll pass thanks--plus, I'd have to shell out a dollar and a half, to take the trolley bus, plus, I'm working 9 to 5 that night, so I'd have to walk home, shower, change and catch the trolley right off--no dinner until 8pm! And, it takes the trolley, traditonally, as much as an hour to an hour and a half, to go the five or seven miles to the lake, from here in the city..no, don't think so.

    Ever been to an office party in America? Dull is not the word--okay, yes, it is. And drunken co-workers are only fun to other drunken co-workers.

    So, as desperite as I am for something to DO, I'm not that desperate. I do dislike living in the city--NOTHING to do, ever! At least in Lake George, Lake Luzerne and Corinth there were free concerts in summer, public beaches within walking distance, and all sorts of events--here. Glens Falls is BLEH...not just in winter, but in spring, summer and fall! This has got to be the dullest city on the planet! Unless you're a rich yuppie, or a drunken chav, there's nothing to do!

    Here's a pic of Lake Luzerne I took 3 or 4 years ago. This is from the main beach, which was just under a mile from where I lived. It's a guy on a raft...I liked the pic, with his little flag pole and his chairs and stuff--he had it made for hanging out on the lake. It was a nice balmy autumn day, that day, as I recall.

    CLICK ON PHOTO TO ENLARGE:
    Adirondack Lake

  • Dr Who Captions for Monday


    "Does this Dalek-cam make me look fat?"


    "Ohhh-Romana! Oh, yes, yes! Oh, K-9, yes, do it there, ohhh--yes..."


    "Wait! We Can't go after the Daleks yet--my hair's not mussy enough. There, that's better!"

  • Rugrat bloggers strike again!

    Arggh!! Two stupid PM's in one Day!

    First "Niyall" or whatever--a 16 year old foreign boy, sends me a PM asking if he can "F__k" me. Nice. Flagged that sucker's blog, told him to keep it in his pants.

    Then, another PM, some teenager (I'm assuming) saying she "hates Dr Who, thinks DT is ugly and thinks my drabbles are stupid." Oh, okay then. Everyone's a critic. Geez---I hate Mondays!

    I have to pull a 10-hour split shift today, woke up at 9--my alarm was set for half-past seven...and, I can't walk today, because the nerves in my legs are going all wonky and won't support me. What next---no, wait...I don't want to know!

    Someone just shoot me. As a matter of mercy, please... :|

  • Accord Hospice Drabble-a-thon: Day 9

    I would like to announce that I am now at 8 percent of my goal--thanks to some very generous donations, the goal percentage doubled over the weekend, with 40 pounds donated to Accord Hospice (accord.org.uk) in Paisely Scotland. Way to go, sponsors! It is the sponsors who make this whole thing a success--I'm just the writer, but it my sponsors who give true meaning to this effort.

    You can donate/sponsor me, by going here: http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash

    You can read every story to date--and also donate, by going here: http://nbgolash.blogspot.com/

    Thank you all, for helping to make the lives of hospice patients--and their families, in Renfrewshire/Paisley, more comforting.

    And now, on with Story 9. I noticed there's-accidentally--been a bit of a grim theme in some of my stories...and in keeping with that...nah--how about something to lighten the mood, a bit. Not one of my best (Ahhh! Writer's block!), but, any port in a storm. Bound to be a few sour apples in the barrel, from time to time, I'm afraid.

    DAY 9

    STORY 9

    Andrew's Big Day

    Andrew had it all planned. Inside the picnic basket, he’d tied the ring to a champagne bottle. He set the blanket beneath an oak. Sunlight sparkled on water, and swallows wheeled through cobalt skies. Jean’s family knew his plans. They were to meet in the park, later.

    There was one problem though. Jean wouldn’t get out of the car. She turned her nose up at Andrew. “Not going.” “Why?” He moaned. “Ants--hate ‘em.” “I’ll kill them for you.” Jean recoiled in horror. “What?” Then, two old ladies showed up. “Hellooo, Jean, darling! Give your Aunties a kiss, won’t you?”

  • A Telemarketer's Tales: Answering Machines I Have Known

    "Hi, Sophie and I are..umm--busy, right now, doing something we...erm..enjoy doing every night..she likes to do it up and down, and I like it back and forth----we'll get back to you as soon as we're done brushing our teeth..."

    "Hi, this is Lucifer, who or what in Hell do you want?"

    "Ahoy, this is the skipper, I'm out on the boat, and me wife, my first mate, is out making it with the boys--(Wife) "Hi, boys!"--(together) So, leave us a message and maybe one of our galley slaves will get back to you."

    "Hi, I'm not answering the phone because I got laid off of my job last week, my dog died and my husband just ran off and left me, and I'm drunk as a skunk right now..leave a message."

    "Hello, nobody's answering the phone because we're having another fight. The winner will call you back."

    "Hi! Jesus loves you! But if you're a telemarketer, we hate you, so don't call us anymore. Have a blessed day."

    If Jean Paul Sarte had an answering machine:

    "I'm not here, you're not here. Don't leave a message. There is no beep."

    William Shakespeare:

    "To beep or not to beep, that is the question. Leave thy message, and take thy chances with the slings and arrows of misfortune, if I don't like what thou hast said."

  • A Timeless Classic--mum had good taste!

    My late mum and I didn't always agree on what constituted our favourite movies--but we had about a half-dozen we did agree on, including: The New Yorkers, Galaxy Quest, My Fellow Americans, Saving Grace, Rat Race, (mum was a huge comedy fan), Plus, we frequently watched Under Siege (I) and All the President's Men...and, mum's all-time favourite movie, is also one of mine: Arsenic and Old Lace. A movie that I truly think can be labeled a "timeless classic."

    Here's one clip from the movie (yes, those bad guys are who you think they are--note the "in-joke" quip at the end of the clip):

  • Accord Hopice banner is down

    Just to let you know, the main blog page is no longer linking to my fund raising page--but the address is there, you'll just have to link to it manually. I've notified Blog.uk of the problem, but it may take days for them to respond. So, sorry the banner is busted, but I don't have a clue how to fix it--or even why it stopped working. Cheers.

  • Googlebots still going bonkers...?

    Now that's weird. I've less than, I think, 1500 blog entries--certainly less than 2000 since 16th of September...and had 3027 page views on Sunday--and a bit over 325 visitors. This is the third day in a row, that my stats have gone utterly mad. Hopefully, yesterday was the end of it. Not that I'm objecting, but now I'm worried that the website won't be able to handle that many page views in a day--robots or not.

    I honestly would be very surprised if it was a human doing this, because I don't see how any one person could possibly view over 2000 blog pages in one day--and nobody's blog could be that riveting, especially mine, ha-ha.

    But, it is odd, isn't it?

    Blog uk doesn't seem to have a clue about this, other than suggesting Googlebots. But would search engine robots take three or more days to pour through my blog page entries?

    Write on one side of the paper only, extra credit if you can name all the 7 dwarfs... :))

  • Arrgh!! Maybe not such a lucky penny...

    So, I broke down, went to the laundromat tonight, after a 2-week absence. What a joke. Never been to this one before, but someone at work told me about it. Yeah...most of the washers were out of order--but manage to find four that are working. Get the wet clothes out, put them in the ONE remaining dryer (only four without "out of order" signs on them), and..the attendant comes up and says my dryer "doesn't work." Oh greaat! Lovely, fan-friggin'-tastic! And some gal had just put her wash in the only other three working dryers, and shoved tons of quarters in them, so I'd have a half hour to 45 minute wait for a dryer--screw that! So, I bundled up my wet clothes--the bag weighed at least 30 to 35 pounds, and went to ring a cab--oh, yes, the pay phone didn't work, either! So, I borrow some woman's mobile, and ring the cab company....a bit over 45 minutes later, they finally deign to show up--damn! Can't win for losing--and I hurt my back lugging the wet clothes up two flights of stairs, and now have a mess a wet clothes to drape all over my tiny little tip--erm, apartment.

    And how was YOUR day? :'(

    I found that 1919 penny yesterday, jokingly referred to it as my "lucky" penny..yeah, maybe not. Have I mentioned that life sucks, and then you die...?

  • Why I wrote an essay for my math final:

    In my 2-year college, you couldn't graduate without passing math. I took math 5 times--four times, before it was discovered I had dyscalculia and arithmaphobia! So, I took private turoring for a semester with my math professor, and then she wrangled me an exception--a waiver to not take the maths final, and instead, read an essay book on maths and also write an essay on what I learned from the book--got an "A" on my final--my first one ever in my entire 42 years of life, in math! I like algerbra, but brain damage as a child, procludes me doing all the mind processes required for abstract math logic. I also can't do "reverse" (subtraction, reciting things backwards, backing a car) well, either.

    Anyway, here's my quiz results:

    Your IQ Is 100

    Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average

    Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius

    Your Mathematical Intelligence is Average

    Your General Knowledge is Above Average

    A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

  • I'm the Genuine Article--mostly

    You Are 73% Real

    You know who you are, and you're pretty darn comfortable with yourself.
    Like everyone, you struggle with the parts of yourself that aren't so great...
    But you're good at accepting who you are and not dwelling on your faults.
    As a result, you're confident, optimistic, and very real.

    How Real Are You?

    Confident and optomistic? Moi! 88| :. Not blinking likely...and, I can't spell.

  • Dr Who: The Killing Frost, Ch 7

    NOTE: Because of the delay in chapters, if anyone is reading this story, you can always look up previous chapters as well as the other Who stories, by searching the tags: "Doctor Who," "BBC" and "Writing."

    Doctor Who: The Killing Frost

    CHAPTER 6: The Process

    The Doctor regained consciousness slowly. “Murrph.” He groaned, trying to focus his mind. Movement, vibration, the sound of tyres on pavement, the rattle of what felt like a truck, possibly a lorry, but he couldn’t tell for sure. The Doctor tried to move, but could only just barely raise his head. It was as if he were paralyzed, his limbs were numb, as if he’d been locked in a freezer for a long while.

    The Doctor's face was pale, and his eyes didn’t seem to want to focus properly. He realized that the gun’s setting must have been set on maximum stun--so they wanted him alive. But why? Before his mind could stir up any further questions, he blacked out again.

    Martha stood rooted in the doorway of the cellar, staring at the horrific scene. Scores of people--men and women, from young teens to senior citizens--were all jammed together in cages. With alarming regularity, one of the Martian warrior things would push one person out of the cage with what looked very much like a cattle prod. Each person would cry out and jump at the shock, and the press of people in the cages made it virtually impossible to avoid the painful jabbing. But it was what happened next that really shocked Martha.

    One at a time, each person was lead to a small transparent booth. Two clamps automatically held them fast, while three micro-thin clear rods were inserted into their brains--at which point the person screamed in agony.

    Then, pulses of luminous neon green liquid ran through the rods, directly into the brain, causing the person to have painful multiple seizures. In less than five minutes, the person was seemingly reduced to a zombie-like state. The final process involved the insertion by another warrior, holding a tiny gun-like device, of what seemed to be a microchip, into the base of the skull.

    Martha looked at the Ice Warrior guarding her. “These people--what are you doing to them? Why are you hurting them? You don’t need to do this!” The guard merely glanced at her, then turned away indifferently. Another warrior approached them. He pointed at Martha. “She will be placed in holding pen three. The one called the Doctor has been neutralized. This female will be processed with the others.”

    Martha looked around for a means to escape. But there was none. The door behind her had been slammed shut and was now guarded by two warriors with guns. Martha felt herself being pulled towards a steel mesh cage, packed full of terrified people.

  • Warning to Blog UK users--new hotmail problem

    Well, the new Hotmail Live really is lousy...it won't load any pages with links to blog.co.uk!

    It will just take hours to load ANY pages from blog.uk--have any other members that have this new hotmail live foisted on them, had this problem as well?

    If you use blog.uk regularly at all, I'd stay clear of the new MSN Hotmail Live. Really, it's no good at all! Oh, it looks nice, but what are looks if you can't access your e-mails? I can read them, but if I want to click a link in the mail....no go. It's basically like having bad dial-up (I have highspeed cable modem, btw). It just totally blows, Hotmail Live.

    So, I'm going to have to spend this week, setting up a brand new e-mail account somewhere, just for this website. What. A. Drag. I don't want to use my yahoo.com account, as I prefer to leave that for junk mail and less important stuff.

    Well, I woke to some happy news, goingsomewhere made a banner to display on her blog, re: my naf little charity thing. And, another blogger and friend, very generously donated 15 pounds to Accord today. That's got me gobsmacked, that does. Profuse thanks to my friends--and to ajinspecer for his assistance. I'm now at 4% of my goal, with 20 pounds earned! Only 480 pounds and 92 days to go! :wave: :D

    Oddly, someone asked yesterday, if told Mr. Tennant what I was doing. Ey? :-/

    Bit of a strange question, that. I couldn't access the e-mail, so here's my reply, here: the thought never even entered my mind. Even if the gentleman was accessible, which he isn't,not to someone like me, I wouldn't do that--the poor guy just lost his mum. It's been a bit over a year and a half for me, and I'm still trying to cope--the young man's got enough on his plate right now, without the likes of me, bugging him. Trust me, it's not a big deal, really. Other sites are raising thousands for Accord--which is fantastic, I think. This is just a tiny little thing I'm doing, and while I want to get the word out, I'm not looking for any "brownie points", as we Yanks say. I'm just doing this...to do it. That's all. Anyway, this is just a blog thing, set up for my two blogs, and as far as I know, even the folks at Accord, don't know I'm doing this--and that's fine. Really, I'm just doing this to give myself something positive to do with my life, and that's, while not my sole, it is my primary motivation.

    Whew! It's a scorcher out there, today! half-past eleven on a Sunday morning, and it's already 24 C--feeling like 26 C, with the humidity. It's supposed to get up to 28 C, by this afternoon, with the old Turkish bath humidity turned way up. Yuck.

    Woke with a stomach ache this morning--that'll teach me to eat a late dinner of tinned chili and a packet of Smoking Cheddar BBQ Doritos. :**: Church is starting late today--must be on summer hours, now...the Presby church's bell is ringing, and it's well past the usual 9.55 start time. Huh.

    I went out on the balcony to water the flowers, Boots joining me, we weren't out there long, the blazing sun drove us both back inside.

    Have to work today, 2 to half past five, then it's off to the laundromat on South street, after. Yeah, I do lead an exciting life. As of today, I've not been out of the city of Glens Falls or more than 2 miles beyond, to the neighbouring suburb of Queensbury in 8 months and 28 days! Yes, I am going a bit potty, of late. Do you blame me??? The city's un-official slogan is: "There's nothing at all, in Glens Falls." And brother, they ain't kidding!

  • DRABBLE-A-THON: DAY 8 STORY #8

    Drabble-a-thon for Accord Hospice in Paisley, Scotland. Day 8.

    100 one-hundred word stories, in 100 days--can she do it? I'm sure gonna' try!

    Please consider supporting my efforts with a donation to this fantastic charity:

    http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash

    Drabble-a-thon story #8

    Mac's Last Ride

    Mac was leading his weary horse across the desert. Sweat soaked his shirt, the merciless sun beat down. Mac was tired. He’d been running from the posse for days now. Suddenly, a shot rang out. He swiftly remounted the appaloosa. There was twenty-five thousand in gold in his saddlebags, he wasn’t about to lose it.

    The second bullet found Mac as he hit the saddle. He fell. Staring up, he saw the ranger standing over him. “I sent the posse away. I want that gold.” Grinning, he added, “I always wanted to see Australia.” The pistol spoke, and Mac died.

  • More Late-nite ramblings

    I was quite tired from shopping--blood count's still low enough to tire me easily..so about an hour after coming home, I went to bed and passed out for about four hours..I mean, I was totally snockerd. Had some weird dreams, as well-I dreamed...and I haven't seen this show in decades, mind--that I was with the Knight Rider car team (????) and we were racing around some dirt track somewhere, against the bad guys, who had all these big-rig semi trucks, coming after us around the track, and I was helping the good guys escape from the bad guys...where the heck did THAT come from??? I've not even seen or heard about Knight Rider in at least 20 years or more! Haven't even thought about the show, at all, in all that time! That truly was...umm---really weird, that dream...any ideas?

    Something neat happened, while out shopping. After finishing the shopping, I dug some change out of my pocket--and found a wheat-ear cent from 1919! How cool is that? What are the chances, do you think, of that happening? I thought it was pretty neat. I put the penny in my wallet for luck. It was incredibly worn, and dinged up, so probably not worth anything--but still, that was really cool to find. (What can I say, I'm easily amused these days.)


  • Borrowed from Mrzombiepants

    $4140.00The Cadaver Calculator - Find out how much your body is worth. From Mingle2 - Free Online Dating

    Mingle2 - Free Online Dating

    Hey, no funeral expenses and, my sister has enough left over to take my nephew to Disneyland! :))

  • A few Dr Who Captions for Saturday

    Before I head out over to Cooper Street to do the dreaded weekly shopping and bill-paying, here's a few Who captions for Saturday--kinda' lame, but no one's perfect, ey?


    "So, Martha, I've this burning question I've been meaning to ask: what kind of underwear are you wearing?"


    "Blimey! What'd I say? That Martha sure packs a mean punch. Gives new meaning to the expression, 'numbnuts'"


    What the series will be like without RTD writing them, Part II:

    Terminal 42: In this episode, the doctor spends the entire 42 minutes, trying to decide what tie he should wear, causing Martha to slip into a terminal coma.

  • Down but not out...

    Sorry for the absence yesterday, but I've been a bit under the weather--physically and emotionally.

    But, I thank you all for your caring and support. It means the world to me, believe that. It's always good to know you're not completely alone.

    And thanks for all who are lending encouragement to me, in my drabble-a-thon/Accord Hospice endevors. To date, 5 pounds ($10) has been raised in the last 7 days.

    I offer a dedication today:
    A song, going out to Amy and others with CS, cancer patients everywhere, and also to all those with an end-stage or chronic illness or whom are suffering from severe depression--and the loved ones and others, who care about them:

  • BLOGGING FOR AMY BLOG-A-THON

    lANDERS IS BLOGGING FOR AMY!

    Read more about it, and hopefully, support, Landers in this most worthy cause, and help raise funds and awareness for young Amy.

    http://bloggingforamy.blog.co.uk/2007/07/28/8_trimmed~2717338

    NEW YORK'S ADIRONDACKS, NORTHERN HUDSON RIVER, SUNRISE.

  • Oh, well..that really gives me some peace of mind, then...

    News today out of the good ol' US of A:

    Our government is going to be selling arms to Saudi Arabia and its neighbours--bearing in mind folks, than a large portion of the 9/11 terrorists, and many of the suicide bombers in Iraq, are FROM Saudi Arabia! Well, gotta' pay for the war that isn't a war (remember Bush's "Mission Accomplished" speech?) you know.

    Also, the astronuts are actually just a bunch of space winos! Yes, they like to party, it's been reveled, both before, after, and on, their way to the stars--the space station is really just a pub in outer space, you know...Club Moonshine... :))

    And...it's been let out that FEMA--the Federal Emergency Management Agency, who dealt with housing homeless Hurricane Katrina victims, KNEW that over 100 of their mobile homes (caravans) were leaking toxins (formaldehyde to be specific), but said they "RATHER NOT KNOW." Because, that would mean that they'd have to condemn over 100 brand new mobile homes and buy some more. Better to let innocent men, women and children, who have already suffered greatly, better to endanger their lives even further, inhaling cancer-causing, potentially fatal toxins, than have to shell out more funds for new homes--extreme capitalism of the military-industrial complex...aren't modern American democratic values wonderful? And the neo-con run government at the time, said they were God-fearing---yeah, well, with attitudes like this, they'd be better to be afraid of the Devil, I say.

  • Drabble-a-thon for Accord Hospice: DAY 7 STORY #7

    Please consider sponsoring me in my efforts to raise funds for Accord Hospice, in Paisley, Scotland. http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash

    My main fundraising page can be seen at: http://nbgolash.blogspot.com/

    DRABBLE FOR SATURDAY, 28TH JULY, 2007:

    DAY 7, STORY #7

    The Ancient Circle

    The clash of swords rang out in the vale. Brother against brother, the flash of blades, the crimson blood, amid a lasses’ gentle sobs. She loved them, heart and soul. The blades bit into leather armor, as the sweating boys fought to win their voluptuous prize.

    The girl, as young and tender as the spring grass, watched her lovers bleed. The boys, whose passion, outweighed their love for each other, fought to a standstill. With a single stroke from each blade, coming down as one, they died. The sobbing lass lay across their still-warm bodies, drew dagger, and joined them.

  • Googlebots Gone Mad???

    I'm not obsessed with my blog stats, but do check them several times a week. The madness continues with the page views, it seems: Yesterday--2,468 page views. Today, even more--and it's only 11.00am here--2768 page views, so far...if this is a search engine robot, it's getting a bit carried away, as I have less than 1500 blog entries since September! Very strange...

  • Oh, and, a little Dr Who Humour...

    (By special request--someone asked for some Who humour):

    WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID, WHEN...

    What the third Doctor said, when he accidentally reversed the polarity of the neutron flow:

    "Whoops!"

    What the forth Doctor said while he and Leela were being chased through the sewers by a giant rat:

    "I hope that was a rotting janus thorn I just stepped on!"

    What the fifth Doctor said when he and Tegan were visiting a pub in the outback:

    "I said a cola! Not a Koala!"

    What the ninth Doctor said when Rose asked what was in his trouser pocket:

    "Guess! It fits in my hand, and vibrates when I press it..."

    What the 10th Doctor said when he first saw the devil in the Satan Pit:

    "Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?"

  • A Song I like to sing....(in the shower)

  • E-mail notice

    Just a quick snippet, that my e-mail (hotmail.com) is back up and running, thanks!

  • Drabble-a-thon news: About Accord



    Just in case any of you are actually following this, here's more information about what I'm doing:

    (Wrote this several days ago and saved it to Word--but forgot to post it, so now I am)

    I wanted to do something positive with my life, and also try to do something I was half-way decent at, and more or less enjoyed, to raise money for charity--and the only thing I could share, was writing.

    I pondered how I can do this, and decided to try a daily short story format. But, I also didn't want to get bogged down--or bog any potential readers down, with a long-ish story, so, after a day or two of reflection, I settled upon a type of writing, I'd only recently encountered: the "drabble:" A complete story consisting of exactly 100 words.

    It's a British thing, I found out, last year. We don't do them over here, as far as I know--just like we don't have panto or play conker, or serve bangers and mash. But, I thought writing drabbles would be perfect for a one-person fundraising effort.

    I liked what I read of Accord--I liked the feel of the place, that I got from reading about it. It reminded me of the dialysis centre here in Glens Falls, where mum used to go, three times a week--very supportive and caring. And since fund-raising locally is out of the question (I would have no local support, as I have few local "connections" here)...and since most of my friends are in the UK, and for other reasons, mentioned previously, I settled on Accord as my target charity.

    Here's info about Accord:

    ACCORD Hospice, Hawkhead Road, Paisley PA2 7BL


    ACCORD Hospice is an independent charity giving free medical and nursing care to those in Renfrewshire and parts of East Renfrewshire whose illness is causing physical pain and emotional stress and for whom curative treatment may no longer be appropriate.

    ACCORD opened its doors in 1992 to offer specialist palliative care services through provision of 8 In Patient beds, enhancing the existing Day Hospice facilities and Specialist Nurse led Community service. Our aim is to offer pain and symptom control, emotional, psychological and spiritual support, delivered by a team of specialist health care professionals. We respond to the needs of our patients and their families.

    Services are provided free of charge. The Health Board contribute to the running costs, with the remainder of the monies required raised by our own fundraising team and voluntary donations.

    MY MAIN DRABBLE-A-THON BLOG PAGE: http://nbgolash.blogspot.com/

    JUST A REMINDER: Until further notice, my Hotmail is down. If you need to reach me for any purpose, you must write me @ friespaardfan@yahoo.com

    THANKS!

  • Drabble-a-thon: Day Six, Story #6

    Please consider sponsoring my efforts at writing 100 one-hundred word stories, in 100 days, for Accord Hospice, serving Renfrewshire, Scotland. (www.accord.org.uk) by making a small, secure donation at this website: http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash

    Or, if unable to donate funds, won't you please take the time to post a link to my official "Drabble-a-thon" web page, on your blog, website or favourite forum.

    http://nbgolash.blogspot.com/

    A Grave Misunderstanding

    Jake and his pal Billy needed drinkin’ money. Jake had a plan, and Billy was going to help. Medical schools were buying corpses. They drove a rented wagon to the cemetery. After unearthing a grave, they returned the shovels to the wagon.

    A gentleman walking past spied them. Realizing what they were about, he jumped into the hole. Returning, Billy said, “I could use a drink!” “So could I," came a disembodied voice from the hole, "the night’s cold on these old bones." Jake and Billy ran off, screaming. Chuckling, the gentleman filled in the grave and went on home.
    _____________________________________________________________________________________________
    Sent to me, tonight by a fellow Dr Who fan. Taken from a site called, David Tennant.com, which is also doing a fundraiser for Accord.

    Mr. Tennant says this about Accord:

    Dear All,
    Thank you so much for all you are doing in raising money for the
    ACCORD hospice in Paisley which was such an important place to my
    mum. It is a fantastic and worthy cause and I can't commend it to you strongly enough. The care given there to seriously ill people is of
    the very highest quality and my family feel indebted to them for all
    they've done for us.
    At this difficult time I can't tell you what it means that you are
    doing this. Thanks to everyone who has been able to make a donation.
    I promise you, your money will be be well spent.
    love dt x

  • e-mail problems

    Just note for those of you who want to Pm me from this site, or who send me e-mails, MSN Hotmail Live ISN'T WORKING! The new site is crap! I'm still waiting for the page to give me my mail, and I've been waiting for 17 minutes already--and I have high speed Roadrunner cable modem!

    So, if you need to contact me, here's my alternate address:

    friespaardfan@yahoo.com

    This is my "throw-away" junk mail address, that I use on sites that I fear will leave me open to spams, but I do go in there once a day, briefly.

    If MSN hotmail doesn't get its act together in the next 24 hours, I'll delete it and set up a Gmail or other free account somewhere.

  • Another Hiatus

    I'm going on another hiatus from blogging for a short while.

    I will continue to post drabble, and if anyone's actually reading "Killing Frost," or my Who captions, I will continue to blog those, BY REQUEST, ONLY.

    Otherwise, I think it's time for another short break. After that mistaken post today, that wasn't meant to be public, I think I'm going to quit for at least a few days. That was really humiliating, when I'd realized what I'd done.

    The drabble-a-thon posts, I have to do, of course. But otherwise, time for a break. I'm not writing anything earth-shattering, anyway--am I? Nah, didn't thing so.

    I love you guys, and if anyone PM's me, I'll reply, of course. I will probably also surf other's sites, and maybe comment, but I think today's snafu means I need to back off for at least a few days.

    Cheers, playwrite27.

  • Too hot to write much

    Well, the Turkish bath weather is back, dang it all. Too hot and sticky and yucky to do much, but sit here and sweat. You should see Charlie. He's lying in front of the floor fan, all strecthed out with his eyes half-open and this look on his chubby cat face that says, "I'm soooo-hot, mum!" Come to think of it, I'm tempted to lay on the floor in front of the fan, myself. Whew! It's murder out there! Nearly 11.00pm at night and it's 72 F (22 C)--but feels like 79 F, (26 C) with the humidity! We're supposed to get storms tomorrow, so it will hopefully cool things down, by then.

    Once again, sorry about that previous post. I just get very tired of having to deal with this constant fear and worry. I wish I had a secure and stable existance--but, maybe there is no such thing in this life, for folks like me, I don't know.

    But, little tirades like that, are one of a couple of reasons, why I won't let anyone get too close to me, physically. I mean, it's one thing to be friends on paper, or over the phone or on the internet--but who'd want to be around someone like me, day in and day out? No one. And, rightly so. I wouldn't ever want to drag someone I call a friend (or more than that) down, with my..erm--quirky, behaviour. I, in all total honesty, simply cannot in my mind, picture someone just accepting me for what I am--all those ups and downs of mine--on a daily basis. I cannot. It's unfathomable to me, that any person would want to share a life like mine--and I don't ever expect anyone will. I've long since had to accept that, as the price I have to pay for being who I am, what I am. Doesn't mean I have to like it, or be oblivious to my loneliness--but I accepted my aloneness a very long time ago--long before I even reached my 18th birthday, before I ever knew the things about myself, that I now know.

    I'd be beyond overjoyed if someone was willing to live with my "quirks," and share his or her life with mine--as a friend or otherwise, but..no. I simply can't begin to imagine it. I am very high maintenance, emotionally--who'd want to be saddled with that? I wouldn't want to see someone I care about, have to deal with me, that's for sure. So, here I be. And here I stay. Stuck in Glens Falls forever. Well, guess there's worse things.

    Tho...walking home from work tonight, I heard crickets in the distance...God, I miss them. I miss sitting out of an evening, on a hot summer night (stinking of mosquito repellent) drinking some cold sweet tea or soda, and listening to the soft sounds of a sultry summer evening--what can I say? I'm easily amused! :))

  • Ignore previous (envy mum) post PLEASE!

    Please ignore the previous (envy mum) post, as it was accidentally made public, when I meant it to be an "only me" post. That'll teach me to punch the "save" button too fast.

    I don't mean to show the public my whinging side. Sorry about that. I am upset, and I seriously needed to "explode" after that phone call from the loan agency today. I never meant my temper tantrum to be made public and I profusely apologize. I assure you, it won't happen again. And I hope I didn't embarrass anyone, or drive any readers away. Sorry, sorry, sorry. :(

    I've deleted it, and I promise, no more crap posts like that, any more. At least, not publicly!
    sorry again, playwrite27.

  • What Planet Should You Rule?

    You Should Rule Saturn

    Saturn is a mysterious planet that can rarely be seen with the naked eye.

    You are perfect to rule Saturn because like its rings, you don't always follow the rules of nature.
    And like Saturn, to really be able to understand you, someone delve beyond your appearance.

    You are not an easy person to befriend. However, once you enter a friendship, you'll be a friend for life.
    You think slowly but deeply. You only gain great understanding after a situation has past.

    What Planet Should You Rule?

  • Dr Who: The Killing Frost

    Doctor Who: The Killing Frost

    CHAPTER 6: A Breakfast Surprise

    Martha imagined, rather than saw, the weapon that was trained on her back. She had no choice but to go down the narrow concrete steps. Dampness covered the brick walls on either side of her, and as she got closer to the heavy metal door at the bottom, the volume of cries and moans increased. She approached the door and it opened automatically. She stood immobile, her brown eyes wide open, like a young doe crossing the road, that’s been caught in the headlamps of a speeding lorry.

    Back in the office, the Doctor put the magazine down, and was sitting upright. After a pause, he spoke softly, trying to remain calm. “I thought you’d died with the others. How did you escape?” The man in the dark suit gave an oily chuckle.

    “Simple, really. I used a personal force field. A technology borrowed from the Quominides. They were quite an intelligent race, very quick and agile as well…and very tasty.” The Doctor frowned. “I didn’t come here to discuss your love of fast food. What are you doing here?”

    “Oh, all in good time, Doctor, all in good time. As the humans say, ‘patience is a virtue.’ But you, Doctor. What brings you here? I was so hoping that we would meet again, and here you are. It is, as they say in certain parts of this planet, kismet.”

    The Doctor leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. “Oh, I rather like the cold, you see. Thought I’d hang around the city, enjoying the nice crisp weather. Good for the lungs you know, less pollutants in the air.” The white phone on the man’s desk rang. He picked it up. “Yes. Yes. Prepare them immediately for the harvesting. How many? Good. But we need more. Oh, I’d say about five hundred thousand should do for a start. Yes, of course, that will be fine. Oh, and bring one up for me, would you? It’s time for my breakfast.”

    The Doctor eyed the man in black, his mind working furiously. Five hundred thousand? Of what? In answer to his question, the door opened. The Ice Warrior shoved a man through the office door. The man walked in stiffly, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. He marched, mechanically, into the middle of the room, until the warrior whispered “Halt.” The man was in his late twenties, dressed in navy coveralls and a neon green safety vest--a refuse collection worker, by the looks of him, the Doctor thought.

    The Doctor at first, thought perhaps, that the man was oblivious to his surroundings. However, when the Doctor got up and walked over to the man, he could see that the man was completely aware of what was happening to him. It was in his eyes--they were filled with a mixture of helplessness and sheer terror.

    The Doctor’s eyes narrowed as he whirled to face the dark figure still seated in the chair. “Whatever you did to this man, I want it stopped. Do you hear? Right now!” The figure stood, and smiled condescendingly, saying, “You are in no position to demand anything, Doctor, and you know it.”

    The Doctor stood there and thrust his hands in his pockets. “What did you do to him? What’s it for?” The man smiled. "A simple technique, really. We take these humans, and process them through a relstrich stimulator, then use them as we need them.” The Doctor’s expression changed to one of horror.

    “A relstritch stimulator? But they were banned by my people eons ago--how could you know about that? And where did you ever find one? Even your lot hasn’t the technological skills to build one of those. That anyone would even want to change a being’s brain chemicals so that you obliterate their free will--not their emotions, not their thought processes--just their ability to act on their own--besides the fact that the whole process is excruciatingly painful--that’s…” The Doctor groped for the right words, “a fate worse than death, if you ask me.”

    The man turned on his heel and faced the Doctor and the refuse collector. “But I didn’t ask you, did I, Doctor? Now stand aside.” He gave a smug little smile. “It’s time for my breakfast.”

    The Doctor said, “What?” incredulously. “You’re not…” But before he could utter another word, there was a flurry of wings and a horrible screech as a winged creature materialized seemingly out of nowhere and swooped down on the petrified man standing helpless in the middle of the room. The man only had time to utter a brief, incoherent shriek, before the creature ate him.

    It happened so quickly, all the Doctor could do was step back helplessly. He turned away, then stopped stock still. “Wait a minute. Processed…that’s what you meant when you--Martha!” With a panicked look on his face, the Doctor bolted for the door, hoping to catch the warrior there by surprise. He heard a commanding screech from the creature, as the Ice warrior aimed his weapon at the Doctor. A bolt a light shot out, and the Doctor cried out and dropped to the floor. “I’m sorry, Martha,” he whispered, as his vision darkened and consciousness left him.

    The creature stood upright. “What are your orders sir?” the warrior asked. The creature resumed his human form, and straightening his tie, he said, “We shall proceed as planned. Now that the Doctor’s out of the way, nothing can stop us. Order the operation in the cellars to go on to phase two. This planet shall be ours and no one will be the wiser.” He walked over and touched the Doctor on the leg distastefully with the toe of his shoe. “And get rid of him, will you? Only, save me his brain. It might later prove…useful.” The Ice Warrior saluted. “Yes, Mr. Finch.”

  • Zatarain's HEALTH WARNING! DO NOT buy Zatarain's rice mixes!!!

    I just opened the box of Zatarain's New Orleans black beans and rice--and it had been ripped open!

    The box had been sealed, yet the bag had been torn open from the corner. I called the company to complain--and told, "well, we've had some issues with bags becoming unsealed." Bull!!!!

    This was very, very obviously ripped open! It was ripped from the side to the top--the seal had nothing to do with it--it wasn't a clean rip, either, such would be the case if the item was unsealed.

    I mean, even after I told the CSR from Zatarain's that it was obviously ripped--described it--she continually denied that that could happen, and insisted it was the "seal." Well, the "seal" isn't on the SIDE of the bag, it's on the top. And a seal coming undone, would not RIP THE BAG DOWN THE SIDE, would it? No. And--the beans looked to have been EATEN, in the bottom of the box!

    DO NOT buy any Zatarain's products! Something nasty is going on here, and I would think twice before even looking at their stuff in the grocery store from now on!

  • Can't sleep--more Dr Who Captions (sorry)


    "Waugh! You want to do what to me with your tentacles? Very kinky...meet me later..."


    "Oh, Sarah Jane...yes! Yes! Ohh-and there, Yes!"


    While on the top of the Empire State Building, the Doctor pauses to do his King Kong imitation.

  • Drabble-a-thon for Accord hospice: DAY 5

    Please consider a small donation to sponsor my efforts to raise funds and awareness for Accord hospice, serving Renfrewshire, Scotland. You can make a secure donation at this link: http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash

    Suggested donation is 50 pence to 5 pounds ($1 to $5). The site does take credit and debit cards, and has a phone number on it, for cash donations in the U.K.

    You can also support my efforts by adding a link to this page on your blog or website: http://nbgolash.blogspot.com/
    Or, by simply leaving me a comment. Thanks for reading my daft little stories! And thanks for supporting Accord hospice!

    DAY FIVE:

    Miss Murray Was Hatched!

    Mrs. Ross and her Friend, Miss Murray, disembarked from the plane. After a lengthy wait, Mrs. Ross faced a bored security man. “Identification,” he said in a monotone. She went in her purse--no passport! She whimpered, “I really am Mrs. Ross.”

    She grabbed Miss Murray. “Tell him who I am!” Miss Murray pointed. “That’s Mrs. Ross.” He was unimpressed. “And you?” “I’m Miss Murray. See?” She waved a paper in his face. “Birth certificate.” “Not proof you exist.” Miss Murphy’s eyes widened. “The government doesn’t believe I was born?” She grinned. “So I don’t have to pay any duty?”

    _____________________________________________________________________________________________

  • The Many Faces of George Bush

    Hope you're not eating any breakfast! :>> PICTURES SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS--BECAUSE AMERICANS CAN'T READ!


    _______________________________________________________________________________________________

  • Proof: Bush is an idiot!

    Not that we need any more, but here is concrete proof, that ol' Duhhh-baya, is a total moron:

  • What Doctor Who is REALLY thinking...


    "She hates me! Thank God! No more lovey-dovey yucky-poo in the Tardis."


    "Time to settle back, let 'er rip with a nice, good fart."


    "I thought only women had hot flashes--I've been hanging around Jack too much."

  • I'd rather have the cash, thanks all the same...


    My blog is worth $1,693.62.
    How much is your blog worth?

  • The "DOH" quote of the day:

    I'm starting a new thing in my blog. Not all the time, but once in a while I'll post what I consider to be, the dumbest news quote or soundbite of the day.

    Here's the first one:

    "We need to invest more in preventing floods."

    "DOH" Quote of the day, courtesy of Gordon Brown.

  • Oh yeah, waving my "freak flag," that's me!

    88| :))

    You Are 58% Non Conformist

    You definitely have your freak flag out, and from time to time, you wave it.
    You have some pretty strong opinions, and you're not afraid to express them.

    Are You a Nonconformist?

  • London? Moi?

    You Belong in London

    A little old fashioned, and a little modern.
    A little traditional, and a little bit punk rock.
    A unique soul like you needs a city that offers everything.
    No wonder you and London will get along so well.

    What City Do You Belong In?

  • Last Summer with Mum

    Our last summer together, wasn't always a happy one. We both knew she was going downhill, healthwise. But, still, mum soldiered on. She couldn't fend for herself like she had--even to the point of not being able to make her instant coffee, and even needed help in the loo--she couldn't keep food down well...we didn't know until it was far too late, that part of her intestine had, essentially, died.

    But, still, we did things together. Throughout my life, mum and I used to like to picnic and BBQ. When we moved to the southern Adirondacks, our picnic areas became numerous, our favourite being a lovely and fairly quiet county park and beach, located on the shores of northern Lake George. Our second favourite picnic spot was just five or six miles away, in Lake George. We'd go to the top of Prospect Mountain--a state park with a road that wound its way up the mountainside, all the way to the top. It had a number of lay-by's, where one could gaze down upon the 32-mile long Lake George, and see the sweeping views of mountain and town, for miles and miles.

    We went twice, that year. Once, in late spring, when my sister and nephew came up--we had a light picnic lunch on the mountain top. Mum managed to help me make our favourite picnic treat--mum's potato salad. Really it wasn't anything special--just peeled and cubed boiled potatoes, a chopped hard-boiled egg, a healthy dose of onion powder, a dash of black pepper, and lots of Helman's Mayonnaise. But, we loved it, nevertheless.

    My nephew had a great time, climbing the rocks at the top of the mountain. But sadly, we couldn't stay long, as it was quite damp and chilly that day, and we were afraid of mum catching cold. It had been drizzzling rain, earlier in the day, and being it was the mountain top, it was much colder than down in the valley, where we lived. So, we stayed for about 45 minutes, then sis and my nephew went to the amusement park, and I took mum home.

    Later in the summer, the first weekend of September, we went again. Mum couldn't get out of the car, that time, so I parked in a lay-by, and had our picnic right out of the cooler in the trunk. As I recall, we had sandwiches, tuna-macaroni salad, deviled eggs and New England baked beans--and some nice conversation. I put my lawn chair next to mum's open car door, and we sat and talked the lunch-hour away, watching the tourists come and go. We laughed. Because we had parked in a little-used lay by, that didn't have as nice a view as all the others--thinking we'd have some privacy. Not fifteen minutes had gone by, when the tourists started pulling into the car park by the dozen. Go figure! We even played a short board game that we were fond of, called Sequence Dice. But then, mum grew tired, so I packed it in and took her home to get some sleep. She and I had a really good time tho', a relatively quiet and restful picnic lunch--it was to be our last one, sadly.

    Mum, the day of the mountaintop picnic, late-spring, 2005.

  • Dr Who Captions for Wednesday

    "You have to do it in 42 minutes, Martha! Why? Because I've been nominated as "celebrity spectacle wearer of the year," and if we crash into the sun, I'll never know if I won!"


    "They really made this episode for the fangirls, I'm so sexy looking when I'm hot and sweaty..."


    "Come on! I have to get in BBC 4--I need to see who was evicted from the Big Brother house!"

  • Drabble-a-thon: Day Four

    Okay, this one's honestly awful. But I'm sick today, and well..nobody's perfect. But, for what it's worth, (she winces) :oops: :roll: here's story number four.

    Please consider sponsoring my efforts by making a small donation to Accord hospice. Thank you! Comments are always welcome.

    Donate securely here: http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash

    Day Four:

    To Be or Not to Be

    The young man stood before the mirror, in the mansion’s loo, pondering the cruelties of life: “Should I off myself or not? I mean, what’s hipper? Deal with that walking hemorrhoid who offed me dad, or just flinging myself in front of the number ten bus?

    He stared at the pills. “Mum and me murderous uncle, married--sweating under the sheets--my God! This isn’t the deep south! Pills…no more reminders of…hark, is that my dear sweet love…” Someone bangs on the door. “Yo! Hammie! It’s Orphie! Stop feelin’ sorry for yourself in there! I need to use the loo!”

  • Telemarketing and take-away, in the shank of the evening

    Home again. Only made two sales all day. More golfers--but even the garden people, who are mostly pretty decent folks--mostly--, were nasty. Thing is, the stupid people at the club saturate their membership with junk mail and phone calls--so by the time we get to this programme--ringing members to re-up their expensive membership, who've cancelled said membership as much as 2 years beforehand--when we get them, they are fed up, and take their rage--and rage is sometimes the literal word, here--out on me and my co-workers.

    I told one woman, who was screaming in my ear, that she was hurting me--and she snarled, "Good!" I don't like life, this world, much, anymore. If it weren't for my friends, I'd not believe that there was much good, in this life anymore, truly. That's why the little drabble project--I need, crave, some postivie thing to do, to make myself believe that there's still good in this life--there is, isn't there? I'd like to believe so, but sometimes...I don't know, anymore.

    And the emotional stress is so bad, sometimes, that I come home, from my sit on my arse all day job, nearly as knackered, as when I was cleaning 6+ offices (and loos) an acre or more apart, the casino's basement--incl. lugging 3 to 5 heavy, dirty, smelly bin bags plus cardboard boxes, down a long hall, up a steep flight of concrete stairs and out to the loading dock--fun's not the word---, and the rooftop press box and judge's stand...it was tough backbreaking, low-wage work, at the casino/harness track, last year!

    My full-time 42 hour work week usually netted me about 169.00, after taxes and union dues and licence fees (they take the cost of your gaming lic. out of your pay). Big wow! That's about 85 pounds a week, if your British. And that's why I was working full-time and still going hungry, sometimes!


    (Just for my UK friend's info--part-time, in the states, is 39 1/2 hours or less--done so big business can save money by not giving workers any benefits (health care, paid holidays, sick days, etc.). Only full-time workers are (mostly) guaranteed benefits...the rest of us schmucks have to just do without. I'm allowed to work (providing there is work) at my company, for up to 39 1/2 hours--over that, and they have to offer me benefits. America a great nation? Not for us lowly peons, it aint!

    So anyway--sorry, got a bit off the track there, ey?--anyway, I'm so tired...I walked into the kitchen...looked at my package of hot dogs and my open tin of baked beans--went to the bed and laid down. I'm...depressed. So, I did something I generally try to avoid doing--I splurged and got some take-away from the Chinese place down the way. The cheapest meal--but still about 6 bucks...boneless BBQ ribs and fries (chips). You know, the Chinese place has the best fries around, for some reason. Go figure... I don't like buying take-out anymore, as it's getting too expensive--well, everything's getting too expensive, isn't it? '

    Oh, I went off track again, didn't I? Sorry. I really am totally wiped out, tonight. I was going to play around with my drabble--oh, that doesn't sound right, does it? :)) Anyway, I'm going to bed, instead.

    Flame's fully recovered tonight, by the way. They bounce back pretty fast, cats do. She sure had me upset and scared tho'--and she was pretty frightened, herself. I don't know what I'd do without Flame--she was mum's favourite cat...and, she's my fav as well. I gave her some of my BBQ ribs--she loves Chinese food.

    MR. TINKLES HAS WATCHED ONE TWO MANY STAR WARS FILMS WITH HIS OWNERS:

  • Drabble-a-thon update:

    Wow! Someone Just sponsored me! How cool is that? I just got a five pound (ten dollar) donation for Accord! Far-out! Guess I better brain-storm my story idea for tomorrow, ey? http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash

    I don't know if this'll go through...my server's acting wonky--down for a few minutes, then up again--no idea what Time-Warner's up to, now.

  • Borrowed from sweet lady Jane

    What Your Underwear Says About You

    You tend to buy new underwear instead of doing laundry.

    You're comfortable in your own skin - and don't care to impress anyone.

    The Underwear Oracle

    Erm--no comment. :oops:

  • Dr Who: The Killing Frost Ch 5

    Doctor Who: The Killing Frost

    CHAPTER 5: The Waiting Game

    Slipping on the frost covered grass trying to keep up, Martha was dragged along by the Ice Warrior to the opposite end of the park. As they passed near the place near where the Tardis was parked, she was tempted to try and make a run for it. But then Martha decided that it was too risky. Besides, part of her was curious about their destination--in a morbid sort of way. Maybe being around the Doctor was starting to rub off on her.

    The lizard-like Martian led her out of the park. They slowly wound their way through several dimly lit and cluttered alleys and a small car park, before coming to a stop at what appeared to be an old boarded up store. “For our first date lizard boy, I can’t say I think much of your choice of venue,” Martha muttered, eying the ramshackle building. The Ice Warrior yanked the door open, stepping through and pulling her inside with him. Seemingly on its own volition, the door slammed shut with a loud bang.

    Meanwhile, the Doctor was being frog-marched through a better part of town. He and his escort halted at a modern office building. It was round and four stories tall, with a mostly wooden frame structure that had tinted windows. Jamming his hands into his pockets, the Doctor looked up at it with minor interest. “Very posh, I must say.” He said to no one in particular. “Somebody’s doing quite well for themselves.”

    The lead warrior pushed the Doctor forward. “You will follow us inside.” For just a moment, the Doctor threw this warrior a dirty glance Then, smiling broadly, he rubbed his hands together, saying, “Right! Lead on. This way then?” Striding confidently, the Doctor proceeded to enter the building ahead of his escort.

    Getting off the lift, the lead warrior gestured to the Doctor to turn right down a long hallway. One of the warriors remained inside the lift, the other walked over to a door leading to the stairwell and stood in front of it. The head warrior came stop in front of a nondescript door with no markings on it, and opened it. The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Bit of a comedown for you lot, eh? Peacekeepers of the Galactic Federation, reduced to nothing but glorified security guards and doormen?”

    The Doctor got the brief satisfaction of seeing a hint of anger in the warrior’s body language, just before he was bodily shoved through the door. “Hope you’re not expecting a tip,” he quipped.

    Looking round, the Doctor saw he was in a mid-size executive office, two walls completely taken over by large windows. The blinds open to the coming daylight, reveling the dim outlines of surrounding office buildings. The flapping of a flag in the listless breeze had as a backdrop, deep leaden skies. A tall, dark haired figure in a black pinstripe suit sat in front of a small modern glass desk, staring intently at his computer screen.

    The Doctor waited, but the man seemed oblivious to his presence. Unimpressed, the Doctor merely shrugged, and flopped down on the sofa. Putting his feet on the glass coffee table, he rifled through the pile of magazines, finally settling on a tabloid at the bottom of the pile. “’Einstein’s Brain Goes on a Rampage?’ Sooo--that’s what happened. Venusians always did have overactive minds, even after death.”

    Meanwhile, the boarded up store was about to have a new customer. It took Martha’s eyes a long moment to adjust to the gloom of the dilapidated interior. She was pushed through a doorway into a large back room. Another door opened, revealing a narrow set of concrete stairs leading downward, dimly lit by a single light bulb. Martha eyed it apprehensively. “Good thing I’m a med student, at least if I fall down the stairs, I’ll know if I have a broken bone.”

    The warrior pointed downward, with the weapon attached to his clawed hand aimed at her head. She had no choice. Just as she stepped down onto the first step, the blood in her veins froze. From somewhere in the bowels of the building below, came the continuous babble of a multitude of human voices--and they were all crying and moaning. Martha swallowed hard, and continued her journey into what sounded very much like Hell.

    Seated comfortably on the sofa, the Doctor ignored the man who, in turn, was ignoring him. He stared up at the ceiling tiles. "You've got a bit of a leak in your ceiling," He said, to no one in particular. "You ought to have a man in." Meanwhile, his mind was working furiously.

    The Doctor was seriously concerned for Martha--what was this processing that they were talking about? And who was in charge of the Ice Warriors? And why was it so cold? He was only seeing bits and pieces, what he needed was a few more, to fill in the whole picture...and the only way to do that was to get someone talking. "Those tabloids! The only really truthful news on this entire planet, and nobody ever takes them seriously--well, I say nobody, but there's lots of folks in the deep south who..."

    The man at the computer straightened in his chair, but did not turn around. Interrupting the Doctor, he said “Find any interesting reading? Strange, I was always under the impression that you Time Lord’s knew everything.” The Doctor stilled inside, suddenly tense. He knew that voice…but it couldn’t be. The owner of that voice was dead.

  • Abba Meet Laurel and Hardy?

  • Quiz time

    My boss says to come in at noon, and make up my two hours on Friday. So, that's not so bad, I guess. I work five hours Wednesday, from 1:30 to 10pm Thursday and and 3 to 10 on Friday..I can live with that.

    Since I have a few minutes on my hands, here's some more quiz, taken from a blogger called "Crazeecat":

    Favourites Quiz:

    What is your favourite:

    1. Fast food (take-away):

    Pizza. Also like Burger King, Quiznos subs, and fish fries (fish and chips).

    2. Home-cooked meal?

    Mum's New England pot roast.

    3. Resturant meal?

    Haven't been to a proper restaurant in months--I don't have a favouite meal, really. Just whatever I'm in the mood for. I like prime rib, but haven't had it in years. Or a turkey dinner with all the trimmings, maybe.

    Or if for lunch, I liked to order a BBQ burger with, bacon, cheese and onion rings on it, or an open-face hot turkey sandwich with gravy, fries and coleslaw on the side--or, served w/mashed and a veggie.

    4. Favourite flower?

    Iris

    5. Favourite wild bird?

    Red-tail hawk.

    6. Favourite small animal (cats, dogs, guinea pigs, goldfish, etc.)

    Tie: Cats and Collie/half-collie dogs.

    7. Favourite large animal?

    Easy one: horses (tho' I like goats and other livestock, as well).

    8. Favourtite tree?

    Eastern White Pine.

    9. Favourite current TV show?

    Dr Who

    10. Favouite TV show from 1974 (if over 40) 1984 (if 30 to 40), or 1994 (if under 30)?

    Emergency! (1974)

    11. Favourite singer/band/group now?

    Proclaimers

    12. Favourite singer/band/group when you were 15?

    John Denver

    13. Favourite subject in school at age 14?

    Probably a tie between English and history.

    14. Favourite subject in school, ever?

    Playwriting I

    15. Favourite non-alocholic drink?

    Tie between Coke Classic, and Orange Crush (in a glass bottle--hate drinks in plastic bottles, messes up the taste).

  • She's Alive! Just...

    I found her! Poor baby somehow got into the bottom of the closet and got into the bin bag full of dirty laundry...she was still breathing but barely conconsious. I put her near the window, for air, and she's coming 'round okay--tho' she's still a bit out of it...whatever possessed her to go into the dirty laundry in the bottom of the closet?

    She's a bit shaken and upset, poor baby. She doesn't want her food. She wants to go hide under that bed. I called late to work--boss ticked off, but Flame's my best friend--awww--she's licking my hair and nose. (She came out from under the bed and jumped into my lap just now). She was just as scared as I was, I think. I'd left the closet door ajar last night--doesn't always close properly, like all the doors in this place. She must of crawled in there to sleep last night. She's a bit rattled--and that's hard to do, with Flame, she's usually pretty brave, for a wee cat.

    I have to leave for work soon, but am waiting to make sure she's fine. She's hissing at the boys, and is really upset, but seems to be breathing okay now, thank God.

    Life stinks sometimes, but then you find something you think you've lost, and you realize that maybe it could be a lot worse...

    FLAME ENJOYING A ROLL IN THE WINTER SUNSHINE--HER FAV. BLANKET NEARBY

  • Flame is gone!

    I woke up this morning, couldn't find Flame--thought she'd come out at feeding time--she's GONE!!! There's not physical way for her to get outside--she was there last night when I went to bed.

    Oh god, I think she's dead! I can't find her, and there's only the three rooms, the bath and two closets! There's no way she could get into the vestibule, the inside door was still locked this morning, and all the screens are still in place on the windows. All I can think is she got in a drawer or closet somewhere and suffocated, or got into something poisonous and went off to die behind the fridge or something...I CANNNOT find my Flamie, and I'm late for work, and I'm so reduced to tears as to be making myself ill...

    I don't think I'm going to handle this well--my God! How much more loss to I have to suffer already? It's not fair! I hate this! I can't find Flame and I don't know what to do, I'm so sick inside me, right now. I just want a normal life--but God has cursed me, and I want out of this so bad...I'm so tired of hurting, I wish I could just get run over by a bus or something, and have done with it.

    My beautiful Flame--who laid so faithfully beside mum when she was ill, who licked the tears from my face, and touched me gently with her paw, who loves being dragged around on her blanket, who's curious as heck about everything...what will I do without her? Why does this crap keep happening to me? I don't understand what I've done to deserve this constant loss and hurt all the time...I don't.

    I keep hoping against hope, that she's just sound asleep somewhere unusual, that I can't see...but hope is dimisnishing by the minute. I'm scared! I'm so scared! Please God, let Flame be okay--and I promise, if she's just sleeping sound somewhere weird, I promise I won't yell at her, when I find her, please God, let her be okay....please don't take her away from me, too.

  • A Couple More Who Captions


    "Oh and by the way, I'm pregnant!" ROSE: "Erm--ey?"


    "That's odd. That camera angle makes me look just like Amy Winehouse..."

  • Today's Drabble--Day Three of Drabble-a-thon

    24/07/2007

    DAY THREE

    Please sponsor me by clicking on the justgiving website link provided. Or, simply leave a comment. I need all the encouragement I can get, ha-ha. http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash

    The Garden

    They were working in the garden, as they had for the past fifty-four years. Sam was pruning his wife’s roses. Suddenly, Anne stumbled, looking pale and wan. “You alright?” He asked. “No,” she whispered, “I feel weak.”

    “It’s your heart.” The doctor said, “You’ve not long to live.” Four weeks later, Sam sat on what was their wedding bed. He held Anne’s cold hand, tears coursing down his cheeks. “I wish I could see our garden,” she whispered. “I bought it to you,” He said, placing a red rose in her hand. She smiled, closed her eyes, and Sam wept.

  • The Midnight Meanerings of One Tired Telemarketer

    I really hate my job. I am not too find of my fellow humans, sometimes, either. People are MEAN! Not all, but...too many for my taste.

    What is it about humans, that we love to lash out at the first available target--especially when we can't see that target? Maybe the human race is born cowardly, and then we just sort of either sink or swim...I don't know. I'm so flippin' tired, I barely know what I'm saying.

    I had to deal with around 10 hours of mean--day and night. People were Nasty! But, I was mostly ringing up golfers-- 'nuff said?

    What is it about golfers that makes so many obviously inferior people, feel so superior? No clue. Golfers--at least American one's--have such a supercilious superior, "My-poo-doesn't-smell-because-I'm-rich-and-I-GOLF" attitude! Oh some guys show a little class and are quite pleasant--tho' some will still try to impress me with their precise "listen to me, I'm educated" fake snobby accents---which I can give right back to them, if I so choose...and sometimes I do, and you know, it genuinely startles them? These guys very wrongly equate telemarketing with blue-collar (chav) workers--and some are, but some of us have A.A.'s, and B.A.'s and ever one or two Master's degrees. So it genuinely takes them aback, to realize I can top them, snob for snub...and then some--I've had a bit more practice, working on the job, ey?

    And, I got a nasty e-mail from some fangirl from a David Tennant website I only have visited maybe half a dozen times in the past year...I do seem to draw out the mean, in some people, don't I?

    Well, it's half past tweleve at night, and supper is still in the oven, baking. I was blessed to find two split (half) broiler chickens on sale this week--only a bit over $1.50 (75 pence) each! So, I'm having a seasoned 1/2 broiler with some spinach and instant mashed potatoes. Not fancy, but..it's at least a decent meal, ey?

    I'm so horribly exhausted these days, I barely feel like eating--blood count's still below 12, where it should be. Not 6, thankfully--no more blood transfusions or operations for now. But I guess it's at 10, and that's what's making me a bit weak still, I suppose. I don't tire quite so badly and my heart isn't doing the rumba, like before, certainly, but my concentration is poor and I'm always bone-weary, of late. Added to that, this damp spell we're in, is playing havoc with my arthritis--wonky knee, the bone spur in my neck, and that foot that got messed up real bad this past winter, are all seriously achey, as well.

    Ah well, tough gettin' old, ain't it? You play hard/work hard as a young person, you pay for it in middle age.

    I was looking at a picture of mum, on one of our outings--I sorely miss her, some days. I mean, I'm carrying on with my life, but still--the silent hours, here in this apartment, day after day, after day...I even miss our little arguments, know what I mean?

    It's kind of weird--you get into this groove--you're needed, you have no life, except the routine of caring for the house, caring for the sick person--and in my case, college--and you forget about all else...and then...it stops. And you are just left hanging, cast adrift. In my case, after the funeral, I had a lot of really bad things happening to me, to cope with--including unemployment, losing the trailer (caravan), having enough to eat for the whole month and living in the dead of winter without benefit of a working furnace and hot water heater or gas cooker. Just went right from mum's deathbed to total disaster--and hasn't let up much since--tho' it has, sometimes, bless. Thanks to some good friends, I'm pleased to say. I've never met you, but I think you guys are awesome! I am so blessed to count you as my friends. (You know who you are!)

    THE THREE TENORS!

  • Your Dr Who Captions for Tuesday


    "Oh no, I'm not an anorak."


    NEW HUMAN: "You know, Doctor, I find your ears really sexy." DAVID: "Erm--Jack? I think this is your department?"


    What really happened after David Tennat met the Pussycat Dolls backstage.

  • Crazeecat's Quiz: Part II

    Part two of the quiz I "borrowed"

    15 QUESTIONS.

    1. Do you now--or have you ever, played a Musical instrument, and if yes, what?

    I don't think you could call what I did, actually "playing." I had to take cello in fifth grade. That was..an experience. I took guitar lessons in 1975 and again in 1977. I took piano in 2002. Problem is, I have dyscalculia and don't do music well. I can--sort of, after a fashion, well, marginally, play the recorder. I can play better by ear than by reading, for some reason.

    2. Have you ever acted in, and/or directed a play?

    I was in our Presby chruch's Christmas musical, in the early 80's. I played "The thrid woman." I had to sing and mime, as well. :oops:

    I was the maid, in my 2 year college's production of, The Dining Room, some in-class plays, such as The Fifteen Minute Hamlet, and a monolouge/7-minute play, about Joan of Arc.

    I participated in a public reading of one of my English professor's plays.

    I wrote, directed and co-produced a college radio play in 2002, and did an in-class direction of a ten-minute play.

    3. Have you ever done any painting (artistic, not walls)?

    Just a few times. Once in common (elementary) school, once as part of a one-night class in "instant" landscape painting, Once for my college art class--I'm rubbish.

    4. Have you ever arranged flowers?

    Yes. Used to be my hobby in the early-late 1990's. Took a class in it, have won a few awards at the county fair. I mostly worked with silk, but have done some live stuff, too.

    5. Have you ever done any woodworking or carving?

    Carved a hiking stick once. Won first prize in the beginner carvers section in the Conservation/outdoor crafts dept. at the fair. Didn't care for woodcarving much, tho'.

    6. Have you ever re-built an engine?

    Nope. Barely know where to put in the oil.

    7. Have you ever used a chainsaw and/or a lawn mower?

    Both. Lawn mower since I was about 10 or 11. Chainsaw when I was around 32 years old, just a couple of times--wasn't crazy about it.

    8. Have you ever changed a diaper?

    Only the adult kind, for my mum.

    9. Have you ever cooked for a large crowd (8 or more) and if yes, about how many?

    I have a culinary cert. I've literally cooked for 10 to 1000+ people, in my day.

    10. Have you ever worked with animals?

    Yup. Stable hand and kennel asst.

    11. Sailed a boat?

    Yes. Once in Friesland, NL--it was way cool, too! I'd adore getting to do it again, sometime.

    12. Have you ever played basketball?

    In elementary and high school, sure-had to. I still shoot baskets by myself, sometimes--tho not often, and not very well.

    13. Have you ever been downhill skiing?

    No...thought about it once, then I came to my senses.

    14. Have you ever played poker?

    Only with the computer, and with my mum.

    15. Have you ever gone jogging?

    No. No. and, just to clarify, no.

    HOW TO TICK OFF YOUR CAT:

  • Quiz borrowed from a blogger named Crazeecat

    PART I:

    1. Where and when was the last party you attended?

    I think it was mum's birthday, in 2004. Me my sister and nephew, had a little surprise party at a Saratoga buffet restaurant.

    2. When was the last time someone hugged you?

    Don't know. Probably in Nov. of 2005, before mum went into intensive care.

    3. How old were you when first kissed on the lips by a girl/boy? (not counting relations--unless you're a redneck).

    Never--really--, never.

    4. How were you different from your peers (friends) as a teen?

    I wore cowboy hats, listened to country/folk music, was a tree-hugger. My peers mostly hung out in the mall or park or bowling alley, listened to Kiss, Pink Floyd, Bee-Gee's, etc.

    5. Who taught you how to drive?

    A. My mum. B. A driving instructor from a driving school.

    6. Given a choice, where would you live?

    A. Rural (farmland/mountains/small town)

    B. Seaside

    C. Suburban

    D. City

    I would probably choose A, if given a choice, I'd say "A"--with "B" a close second.

    7. What type of housing would you prefer?

    A. cottage/cabin/bungalow

    B. Flat/apartment

    C. house/townhouse (semi-detacthed)

    D. Condominium

    E. Farmhouse

    F. Mansion

    G. trailer (caravan) or houseboat

    H. Tent/teepee

    I. Public housing/council estate

    J. Hotel/motel

    K. Any old alleyway that's handy.

    I'd say A, with E as second and G as third.


    Take-away for kitties!

  • Long Days Journey into Hell

    Well, lunch break's nearly over, time to plunge back into telemarketing Hell. My last call of the day? Some 80 year old woman from (Yech) Kentucky, screaming at me, at the top of her lungs. The tirade began something like this: "YOU KNOW WHAT YOU CAN DO WITH YOUR _______CLUB! TAKE YOUR #@!% CLUB AND..." Charming "lady." Love my job--not. Americans suck. "God's image?" What do people see in that guy, if he's like that? (Not being blasphemous, just facetious, honest.)

    Have I mentioned that I really hate my job? :yes:

  • Today's Drabble--Drabble-a-thon Writer's Challenge

    Today's Drabble--and yesterday's drabble. (Not as easy as it may seem, by the way!)

    DAY ONE:

    22/07/2007

    Night Train to Paris

    The young man on the night train to Paris, stepped out on the platform for air. He saw a lady in black, watching a village go by-- two lights on. Most buildings scarred from the Great War: shell-torn roofs, black holes, the night masking the memory of death.

    The young gentleman spoke. “Cold night.” Without turning, the lady said, “Not as cold as the grave.” He bent his head to light his cigarette. “That was my village, that we just passed", she added sadly. “I died there, with my children.” Dropping his lighter, the boy blanched. The lady had vanished.

    DAY TWO:

    Dr Who: Getaway Gone Wrong

    The Doctor and Rose were running through a maze of rocks and boulders, being chased by a Sontaran. At the Tardis, Rose fell. The Doctor cried, “No!” But the Sontaran’s aim was good. Rose took the full blast.

    The Doctor scooped her up, carrying her into the Tardis. He laid her on the floor, openly weeping. Keening, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry." The console cracked open. He stared, wide-eyed, as golden rays poured into Rose. She gasped. The rays went out of her, back into the vortex. Awed, the Doctor turned to the Tardis, whispering, "Thank you."

    If you like these little stories and would like to sponsor me, please click on the link below: (Suggested donation-- 50 pence to five pounds or, $1 to $10.00.)

    http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash

  • The Drabble-a-thon Notice from Playwrite27

    Hi fellow bloggers,

    As some of you already know, I'm doing a drabble-a-thon/writer's challenge, to raise funds for a hospice. The funds are raised through a legitimate fund-raising website, with an excellent reputation worldwide. I will not--will NEVER--see a penny of the funds, all funds will be sent directly to the hospice, from the donation website.

    For those of you that don't know, the Drabble-a-thon Writer's Challenge, is me, writing 100 one-hundred word stories (a "drabble" is slang for a 100-word complete story), in 100 days.

    Unfortunately, I'm getting virtually no traffic to the webpage. I had to set up a separate blog, on Blogger.com, because I am not able to have a pro-account on blog.uk, which would allow me to have a second blog page. Blog.uk, in their very business-like way, has informed me that I must either pay them, or pay GoogleAds, for this, even tho' it's strictly non-profit and going to help cancer patients, and I'm not seeing a red cent ever, from this project. Oh well. Blog.UK doesn't do charity. Because, after all, it's a business, and I guess I can understand their stance on this.

    So, what to do? Well, the thing is, I'm going to have to add the "Drabble-a-thon" to this blog, tho' I wanted to keep the two fairly separate, for personal reasons--plus the fact, I DON'T want people who read this blog, to feel I'm trying to pressure them into donating! I'm not, honest. If you don't want to sponsor me--no worries, no hard feelings, no problem. That's fine, I'm okay with that, really. I want people to sponsor me, sure,--but only if they really want to do it.

    So, the next post will feature stories one and two, with a link to the donation page. Then, once a day, I will post the drabble story, with a link beneath it, if someone decides he or she wants to sponsor me. The donation page contains info also, about the hospice--where it is, what it is, etc...

    I apologize if my doing the Drabble-a-thon in this blog, may offend or turn off some readers, but there's very little traffic on the main site, and a lot of traffic here (well, a lot by my standards), so I have no choice but to do both sites each day. I will post the word "Today's Drabble" in my posts, so if you are offended by my fund-raising activity, you can skip that post.

    Thanks for understanding (I hope), cheers. Playwrite27

  • The Wisdom Of George H.B. Bush.

    THE FOLLOWING are actual quotes by our nation's dictat--erm, leader, George Herbert Walker Bush, or as we liberals call him, "Duh-baya."

    They misunderestimated me.
    - US President George W. Bush (November 6, 2000 in Bentonville, Arkansas)

    You teach a child to read, and he or her will be able to pass a literacy test.
    - US President George W. Bush (2000?)

    Rarely is the question asked: Is our children learning?
    - US President George W. Bush (January 11, 2000)

    Our nation must come together to unite.
    - US President George W. Bush (June 4, 2001)

    If you don't stand for anything, you don't stand for anything!
    - US President George W. Bush (November 2, 2000 at Bellevue Community College)

    I know the human being and fish can coexist peacefully.
    - US President George W. Bush (September 29, 2000 in Saginaw, Michigan)

    I know how hard it is for you to put food on your family
    - US President George W. Bush (January 27, 2000 in New Hampshire)

    This very week in 1989, there were protests in East Berlin and in Leipzig. By the end of that year, every communist dictatorship in Central America had collapsed.
    - US President George W. Bush (November 6, 2003 in Washington, D.C.)

    I think we agree, the past is over.
    - US President George W. Bush (May 10, 2000)

    I've heard he's been called Bush's poodle. He's bigger than that." --George W. Bush, on former British Prime Minister Tony Blair, as quoted by the Sun newspaper, June 27, 2007

    You helped our nation celebrate its bicentennial in 17 -- 1976." --George W. Bush, to Queen Elizabeth, Washington, D.C., May 7, 2007

    "Information is moving -- you know, nightly news is one way, of course, but it's also moving through the blogosphere and through the Internets." --George W. Bush, Washington, D.C., May 2, 2007

    "BLOG-O-SPERE?" Yeah...okay, then George...:roll:

    "Either we'll succeed, or we won't succeed. And the definition of success as I described is sectarian violence down. Success is not no violence." --George W. Bush, on Iraq, Washington, D.C., May 2, 2007

    "There are jobs Americans aren't doing. ... If you've got a chicken factory, a chicken-plucking factory, or whatever you call them, you know what I'm talking about." --George W. Bush. Tipp City, Ohio, April 19, 2007

    "There are some similarities, of course (between Iraq and Vietnam). Death is terrible." --George W. Bush, Tipp City, Ohio, April 19, 2007

    "I've been in politics long enough to know that polls just go poof at times." --George W. Bush, Tipp City, Ohio, April 19, 2007

    "POOF?" The polls are run by gays? :p

    "Politics comes and goes, but your principles don't. And everybody wants to be loved -- not everybody. ... You never heard anybody say, 'I want to be despised, I'm running for office.'" --George W. Bush, Tipp City, Ohio, April 19, 2007

    "I said to her, make sure the rug says 'optimistic person comes to work.'" --George W. Bush, on his instructions to First Lady Laura Bush in choosing a rug for the Oval Office, Tipp City, Ohio, April 19, 2007

    See? He really is hearing voices!

    "The best thing about my family is my wife. She is a great first lady. I know that sounds not very objective, but that's how I feel. And she's also patient. Putting up with me requires a lot of patience." --George W. Bush, Tipp City, Ohio, April 19, 2007

    "Suiciders are willing to kill innocent life in order to send the projection that this is an impossible mission." --George W. Busy, Washington, D.C., April 3, 2007

    "The solution to Iraq -- an Iraq that can govern itself, sustain itself and defend itself -- is more than a military mission. Precisely the reason why I sent more troops into Baghdad." --George W. Bush, Washington, D.C., April 3, 2007

    "Some call this civil war; others call it emergency -- I call it pure evil." --George W. Bush, Washington, D.C., March 28, 2007

    "I'm a strong proponent of the restoration of the wetlands, for a lot of reasons. There's a practical reason, though, when it comes to hurricanes: The stronger the wetlands, the more likely the damage of the hurricane." --George W. Bush, New Orleans, March 1, 2007

    "And there is distrust in Washington. I am surprised, frankly, at the amount of distrust that exists in this town. And I'm sorry it's the case, and I'll work hard to try to elevate it." --George W. Bush, interview on National Public Radio, Jan. 29, 2007

    "The best way to defeat the totalitarian of hate is with an ideology of hope -- an ideology of hate -- excuse me --with an ideology of hope." --George W. Bush, Fort Benning, Ga., Jan. 11, 2007

    No George, you got it right the second time.

  • Dr Who Captions for Monday


    WHAT DOCTOR WHO WOULD BE LIKE IF RTD LEFT: "Wait 'till you see this! You're gonna' love it! First we're going to Sainsbury's to watch the dough rise, then we're going to the park in Cardiff, to see the grass grow."


    "Oh, speaking of cats, do you know where a good Chinese takeaway is around here?"

  • Yikes! It's Monday morning! And some captions...

    Eeekkk! I woke up an hour early! Ah well. The Drabble-a-thon continues, Day Two and I've just posted a Dr Who story on the site. Still no sponsors, but that's to be expected, I suppose. I've had less than a dozen visitors, so far. http://nbgolash.blogspot.com/

    Going to start the day with a caption, hope you don't mind, but I'm tired, I've got this gosh-awful ten-hour shift doing the number one worst collections programme/script that my company ever had....everyone in the office working on this, has been utterly miserable--even the more mellow and laid back co-workers have been tearing their hair, and moaning and uttering curses under their collective breaths. Americans sure can be mean on the phone--but then, I guess it's pretty easy being mean to someone you can't see, and don't know.

    Anyway, here my go at a caption, this morning. Have a good day, all. Cheers.


    "Wow, Harry, you were right, this door-to-door plane service to the Bahamas is really cool! No more airports for me!"


    "You sent for me, Gordon Brown?"

  • Some Dr Who Captons Before Dinner


    "Erm--no, Mrs. Jones, I wasn't making funny faces behind your back..."


    "Sorry, we can't go out there, just yet. My zipper's caught in the Tardis Console."


    "Whoo! You might not want to come in here Martha. I had the curried eels last night and forgot to flush..."

    Please donate: http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash

  • Guess we'll see, ey?

    ...whether my little fund raising project soars like a hawk, or crashes like an hot air balloon with a hole in it.

    First story is online: Night Train to Paris. http://nbgolash.blogspot.com/

    One day down, 99 to go. :roll:

    Well...I know it'll probably be a bust, but, I gotta' do SOMETHING with my life! I went back to college at the tender age of 39, to get away from a life/future like this...dang, well, that didn't work out, did it? Talk about a reversal--the train of my life not only reversed, it's pretty much derailed for good. :P

    So, I just can't stand sitting here and vegetating any longer! It's turning me into a republican! :lalala:

    But seriously though, this isn't just a passing whim. I know it's kinda' stupid, but it's the only thing my slowly crumbling brain can come up with, to keep me preoccupied. I gotta' give myself something positive to do with my life. This is really gonna' sound bonkers and silly, but I'm seriously becoming alarmed, because even blogging and Doctor Who are beginning to bore me! I don't even feel much like reading, any longer--and I adore a good book! I'm not joking! I wish I was, but I'm slowly losing interest in everything...and so, I decided that I had to do something about it.

    I can't (not for lack of trying) change my income, my job, my physical and mental state--but, I can change my routine--have something new to do--and, something that maybe (okay, HUGE "maybe") will help a really worthy cause, along the way.

    Why choose a hospice thousands of miles away, in a country I will likely never step foot in? Several reasons.

    The local hospice here in Glens Falls, on investigation, is actually doing rather well, financially. The National Kidney Foundation--which was quite supportive to my late mum, I've already done something for previously. I wanted to find something...I don't know. There's so many charities out there--I felt overwhelmed the second day of searching!

    So, when my young lady fangirl sent me the e-mail about Accord, I thought I'd have a go, and checked out, quite honestly, purely on a whim. I really was impressed, I must say. In reading their website, I was sincerely touched by their efforts. I could see in the photos, the caring and joy on people's faces--I liked that. Also, like many people, I've had relatives die of cancer--my dad, a couple of aunts and an uncle.

    And, finally, and I hesitate to mention this, because it sounds a bit shallow and trivial, to me..but the truth is, I was told by the person who e-mailed me the info about Accord, that it was founded by actor David Tennant's mum, and--oh, this is going to sound really silly, but truth to tell, Mr. Tennant's portrayal of the Doctor has given me so much--the character makes me smile, laugh, cry--it's just that, as far as entertainment goes, Dr Who is mostly all I have...and, while I'm no fangirl, young Mr. Tennant's performance has just enriched my enjoyment of it tenfold. So, this is sort of, in a very tiny way, my way of thanking him---arggh! I know that must sound really stupid, but...that's how I feel. I mean, outside of this one time, I'm not going to bring that reason up again, and it's the reason at the bottom of the list, but...pay it forward, you know?

    Anyway--hope I've not bitten off more than I can chew, but...we'll see. I may not get a single penny for them, but, at least I'll have tried. I'd donate, but I threw away my debit card, and they don't take cash. So...I write.

    Please Donate: http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash

  • Dr Who: The Killing Frost

    Doctor Who: The Killing Frost

    CHAPTER 4: Separate Paths

    Seeing that the weapons were trained on them, the Doctor did the only sensible thing: He smiled and slowly raised his hands. Martha followed suit--only she was wasn't smiling. The Doctor waved, saying jovially, “Hello! I’m the Doctor.” He stepped forward. “Take me to your leader.” Martha glanced at him sideways, She hoped the Doctor knew what he was playing at. So often he'd just made it up as he went along.

    Maartha looked at the Martians. They were tall, with an armor-like body that reminded her of the crocodiles she’d seen on tele. Their hands had long claws, like a lions. Attached to the hands were nozzles that seemed to be weapons. Their eyes were just square holes behind a helmeted type of head…and something about the eyes, she decided, gave her the creeps.

    The Ice Warriors looked at each other. Then one stepped forward. “You are the one known as the Doctor?” He asked in a high whispery voice, “You will come with us.” He gestured to Martha. “The female is unnecessary." Martha started. "Hang on! You male chauvinist...Martian." The Doctor grabbed her arm, saying quietly, "Easy, Martha." Addressing the head warrior sternly, he said with authority, "She stays with me." The warrior ignored the Doctor, saying to his comrades, "She will go with Vaxmyr. She be processed.” One warrior detached himself from the group and hauled Martha bodily away.

    The Doctor cried “No! Leave her alone!” He rushed to stop them, but was detained by the warrior who spoke. “She is not needed. You are.” Still struggling, the Doctor’s mind worked furiously. “But she is needed, you see? I can’t function without her. She’s my….assistant. I need her.”

    The Doctor stared down the warriors. Focusing all his power and strength on to the leader, he said, “If you take me, you must take her.” The leader paused, considering. “She will be taken to the process centre. We will hold her there. We will consult with our leader. If you cooperate, she may be returned to you. Otherwise…” He didn't finish his sentence, but the tone of his voice made the warrior's meaning quite clear.

    With a silent gesture, the lead warrior directed the two remaining warriors to hold the Doctor. As they marched him off, he struggled to look back at Martha. She tried to smile at him. “Don’t worry about me, Doctor. I’m sure old lizard-lips and I will get along just fine.” She said gamely. Nevertheless, he could see she was a little scared.

    The Doctor struggled, even though in his hearts he knew it was useless. “Hang on, Martha! I’ll get you out of this, I promise. Do you hear? I promise you, everything be alright!” The leader gripped him more tightly. “Take her to the process centre. See to it she is prepared.” The Doctor stopped stock still. He didn’t like the sound of that, not one whit. “Prepared for what? What’s this process centre for? What are you lot up to, anyway?” Ignoring him, the warriors hustled him off. He looked back at Martha, being dragged in the opposite direction. “What are you going to do to her?” He asked anxiously. He got no answer, and that bothered him a lot more, than the gun being poked into his back.

    (Reminder: To view all stories, just go to the site's homepage, in "Search for" at the top of the page, click on "posts" in the drip down box, and enter either, "Doctor who" or "bbc")

  • Borrowed from Blogger.com: a sticky cockrel?

    Here's a query for my blog friends:

    It's your birthday, and your elderly aunt just gave you a maple syrup dispenser that looks like a rooster. You write her a thank you note. What does it say?

    Now, my obvious answer is a bit too rude for me to post here. Sorry.

    TO DONATE: http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash

  • Cat Captions

    TO DONATE: http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash


    Ugh! I hate it when I find a hair in my coffee!


    Does this bathing suit make me look fat?


    I hate thunderstorms!

  • Charity Fund Rasier: Please consider sponsoring me?

    TO DONATE: http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash
    TODAY'S DRABBLE: http://nbgolash.blogspot.com/

    INTRODUCING: A Drabble a Day Writer's Challenge!

    100 one-hundred words stories, in 100 days, to benefit Accord hospice.

    I decided earlier this week, that to get out of my blue funk, and stop feeling so sorry for myself, I needed to do something. Unfortunately, my present circumstances make the choices open to me, virtually non-existent.

    After much deliberation, I knew what I wanted to do--but how to do it? What I wanted is a long-term (aprrox. 3 months) project, that I could use to either raise funds for, or help promote some sort of deserving charity.

    But...by Friday, I was stumped. Then, Saturday, came one of those lovely encounters with serendipity. An internet friend mailed me a link to a fund-raising website, and also, some information about a charity she is currently supporting.

    Viola! My Writer's Challenge is born!

    Starting today, and for the next 100 days, I will be on my other site, on blogger.com, writing a drabble a day.

    What's a drabble? That's slang for a fiction story--with a proper beginning, middle and end--that's exactly 100 words long. Not 99, not 101--but an even 100. Not an easy thing to do, let me tell you--at least, not for me. Well, it shouldn't be, should it? Then it wouldn't be a challenge!

    Here's the link to the blogger page: http://nbgolash.blogspot.com/

    Here's the link to the official donation page (100% secure): http://www.justgiving.com/nbgolash

    And for those of you not familiar with me, I won't see a single penny of this money. The donation site automatically sends all donations to Accord.

    I won't pressure anyone into giving. Just won't you please take a moment and visit the websites?

    The first story will be published today, before midnight, U.S. Eastern Standard Time (I'm 5 hours behind the U.K.)

    Thanks again everyone. I will be putting a link to the donation page, and the writing page, at the top of this blog. Cheers. N.

  • I WILL rise again!!!

    Yes, I've been pretty down, of late. What with the constant worry of more loss, and also my sometimes ill health of late, and my stagnant lifestyle--it's hard being positive, and getting more and more difficult to retain my sense of humour, as well.

    But, there's this song, you see, and when all else fails, I listen to it. I know this probably sounds daft--it's not even a religious song or anything like that, it's about a boat! But, hearing this song when I was much younger, I got through a really tough time, just by listening to what the song's last chorus. It's a very special song to me--not my favourite, but special, nonetheless.

  • Spiritwind: November

    Yesterday didn't seem much like summer--which isn't a completely bad thing, to my mind. For, the rolling deep gray clouds that sometimes chased away the bright sunshine, combined with the cool temperatures, brought a pre-autumnal chill to the air. The brisk wind whipped the lush green trees lining the city streets into a frenzy--their leaves sounding much like the restless ocean, beating against the sometimes dark shores of the sky.

    I love the autumn--not just mid-October, when the leaves are in all their brilliance, but even in November, as well.

    Autumn is a time of change--as a child, the coming of September heralded the end of our 12 week-long summer holidays. The start of a new school year (hopefully :roll: ), and the chance to be in a new room with a new (tho' we knew them all, in our village school) teacher, and new things to be learned (hopefully).

    October brought the brilliant riot of colourful leaves, Halloween, and, my birthday. At the end of every October, I am, of course, a year older. So that was a change for me, as well. Even as I young child, I loved the fall leaves. Used to press individual maple leaves that I'd found and admired, in the leaves of a book, to remember, long after the colours were only a memory. As a teen, I would lay on my side in the field next door to our home (see photo below), and just admire the way the sun made the leaves glow, and the way the falling gold and scarlet and orange leaves would dance and twirl, as they made their way, one by one, to the damp, dark ground.

    LATE 1970'S

    But as I grew into my teenage years, it would be November that would truly capture my heart, my spirit and my soul.

    I would spend hours--just hours, at the end of the day, sitting on Cemetery Hill (my name for a broad steep hill in the Catholic cemetery adjoining our street. There was an ancient Eastern White Pine there--huge and tall, one of the biggest I'd ever seen. I'd sit there with the dogs, Happy and Shamrock, and just look at the hills across the river, their barren silver and tan trees, a sprinkling of green from the white pines, rolling gently east, back away from the Hudson River.

    I'd sit and listen to the wind weave it's magic through the sighing, singing, pine boughs. Listen to the wonderful, wild cry of Canadian geese heading south for the winter--it's a sound that always makes my heart soar, and my spirit long to bound away into the unknown.

    I'd watch the reflection of the sunset, against those sad, gray hills. Slowly turning them gold, then red, then a rosy pink---until they slowly slipped away behind the black cloak of the frosty night.

    "FLOOD'S FIELD"--JUST A FIVE MINUTE WALK WEST OF OUR BACK YARD, LOOKING TOWARDS THE DISTANT HILLS ACROSS THE RIVER. 1977 OR 78, I think.

  • David Tennant in Mourning

    Having just learned the news, I would like to take the time to send my condolences to actor David Tennant, on the passing of his mum.

    There are no real words to help one through the loss of one who was-and is, so deeply loved.

    Being that I myself am still in the mourning process after a bit over a year and a half on, I know this to be true. I am thankful that Mr. Tennant has family to be with, and friends as well, through this trying time. He seems a good man, and I know this will deeply affect him for the rest of his life. I only hope the love of his family, and his many friends and fans, will help ease the grief he's experiencing.

    My heart-felt condolences go out to the McDonald (Tennant's real mame) family at this time.

    As I understand it, Mrs. McDonald passed away in Scotland, six days ago, sadly.

  • Marph--wha? Oh yeah, Life sucks, then you die.

    It's morning then, is it? Dang.

    I'm so tired, I literally can't see straight and I'm totally apathetic. I mean, if I could get away with ringing up work sick, I definitely would.

    For reasons I cannot fathom, my joints and muscles ache this morning, like I've run a marathon, and I'm stumbling about like I've been on a three day bender.

    It's a drop-dead gorgeous, perfect 10 of a day. If I were a normal human being, with a normal job, and a normal life (middle class income, white collar 9 to 5-ish job), I'd be rested and refreshed--'cause I'd had a normal amount of sleep, wouldn't I? I'd be having a normal breakfast--probably at the local diner or McDonald's, and be getting in my car to do my shopping, and then probably garage sale'ing or going to the beach or pickicking or SOMETHING nice.

    I wouldn't be sitting here, tired as hell, aching all over and dreading the weekend---work 5 or 6 hours today, go do the shoppping, and then come home and collapse. Wake early Sunday, go to the laundromat, then work three or four hours..wake Monday, work another 10 1/2 shirt...

    I worked 10 1/2 hours yesterday, and danged if I ain't feeling it. I had Monday off, this past week, and don't get another day off, until next Saturday--which means I'd have worked, by then 11 days in a row--every bit of it, completely knackered.

    Is there some magic formula, I'm wondering, to get a "normal" life? You know, like you see all these other people having...

    (Big sigh.) Guess not. No days off, no holidays, no sick days with pay...just work. My entire life--and I mean this very, very literally--seriously now, My entire life is work, tidy the apartment--which isn't going so well, at the mo', and blog/write. Once a week I do the shopping, and once every two weeks, I go to the laundromat. That's it. That's my life--unvarnished and out in the open. I've not been anywhere since November. Anywhere. And I'm sick of it, I really am. Oh, I'm grateful that I'm not homeless, that I have my cats and the internet and my possessions...but--please God, tell me this isn't all there is. That there's a future out there for me, somewhere...

    Not that I believe. I'm dead in the water, not goin' anywhere. I'm stuck. Oh, who gives a damn. I'm here, that's all there is in life, right? You are where you are, and that's that. Screw it. I'm tired. I'm gonna' eat and change and go to work and hate life and who the hell cares?

  • Just what is under that kilt?

    Some young English ladies had been having a fine visit with a Scottish relation, one night, and were walking back to their hotel, in the shank of the evening, when they spied a handsome young Scotsman, lying in the grass, sleeping. Seems the young lad had tied one on that night, in the local pub. And, having had one too many, had passed out cold, alongside the road.

    Well, up speaks one young lady, Mary, "You know, girls, I've always wondered just exactly what is under a Scotsman's kilt." So saying, she walked over and, using her umbrella, carefully moved the kilt to have a look--and got more than she'd bargained for, for the young man was au natural--and what's more, he had himself a big bhoy, as well.

    After admiring the young gent's wedding tackle, Mary untied the red ribbon that was in her hair. The other ladies gasped with shock, as with a mischievous grin, Mary bent down, and tied the ribbon in a very naughty place. Then, grinning unashamedly, she replaced the kilt. Trying to stifle their giggles, the girls proceeded on their way to the hotel.

    Our sleepy Scotsman woke up in the dewy dawn, and distinctly feeling the call of nature, heads to the nearest bushes. As he sleepily lifts his kilt, his eyes widen with wonder, to see the ribbon tied to his rather bountiful...well, you know. The Scotsman merely shrugs, saying smugly, "Well, I don't know where 'ya been laddie, but you sure enough have won first prize."

  • Dr Who: The Killing Frost

    Home from work half-past ten, time for fiddling with another Dr Who chapter, while I decide if I want to wake myself out of this, 10 1/2 hours of listening to whigning, snarky-people-induced stupor of mine, and actually prepare some dinner. Still debating. Means I'll probably wake up starving if I don't, but then, who cares? Think I'll pass on dinner, go to bed early--maybe open a can of soda, make some toast, or pop some microwave popcorn, or maybe have some crisps, some kind of snack, before bedtime--meh, then again, probably not. Just too damn wiped out--physically and emotionally--to honestly give a darn. Anyway, I need a couple of minutes of downtime, before bed, so here's another naf ol' chapter. Playwrite27 (N.)

    Doctor Who: The Killing Frost

    CHAPTER 3: The Visitors

    The Doctor lead Martha to an outbuilding, that seemed to be some sort of recreational facility. Reaching into his pocket, he produced the sonic screwdriver and aimed it at a padlocked rear door. With a familiar hum, the tip of the device glowed blue, and the lock clicked audibly. Without hesitation, the Doctor removed the lock and yanked the door open. “In here, quickly!” The Doctor whispered, pushing Martha through the door before him. He spared a quick glance back, but their pursuers seemed to have vanished--at least for the moment.

    He tried a light switch, but the power was cut off. He fished a torch from his other pocket and shone it around the room. They seemed to be in some sort of empty storage area. Martha turned to face him. “Doctor, I’ve never seen a wound like that. What sort of weapon could kill someone like that?”

    The Doctor saw a few empty wooden crates on the floor and sat down on one, rubbing his temples. After a moment he said quietly, “That was caused by a sonic weapon. Paralyzes the body, freezes the blood, the living cells, everything. Instantly. That unfortunate boy probably never knew what hit him.” Drawing a deep breath, he added “Question is, why? Why here, why now? What’s so important in Wales to bring them here? It can't be the rift, that's in Cardiff. And why this localized weather interference? So, what we have, Martha, is a lot of questions that need answering..." He sighed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. After a moment he slapped his knee, winked and said, "Lucky for us, I'm just the man to find the answers."

    Martha had pulled up a crate and was sitting beside him. She looked worriedly at her friend. “Who’s ‘them’ Doctor? Or maybe what, would be a better question?” The Doctor looked at her, suddenly seeming very old. For no reason she could fathom, Martha shivered. “They really are from Mars, then?” The Doctor looked away, deep in memory. “Yes. They are a warrior race, who later became peace keepers for the Galactic Federation.” He sighed and smiled at her, “I’ve met them before. Not a bad lot as a whole, but I’m sorry to say that the old earth saying is true--even with Martians.”

    Martha looked at him quizzically. “What saying is that?” Looking serious again, the Doctor muttered, “One bad apple can spoil the whole bunch.” Biting his lip, he said, “The question is, who’s the wormy one this time, eh?” Martha thought about what the Doctor said and asked, “So, these Martins, do they have a name?”

    The Doctor nodded grimly. “Most people who’ve known them call them Ice Warriors. They had renounced violence a long time back, then, one arose who tried to resurrect the warrior strain--unsuccessfully, I may add.” Martha smiled. “Let me guess. With a little help from you?” Remembering, he grinned. “Yup. And with a little help from my friends.” Again, his face turned grim. “I gave them a chance to go back to their peaceful ways and thought they’d taken me up on it--now….”

    Martha was mildly startled by the fierce expression that suddenly came over the Doctor. “No second chances.” Martha reached over and touched him. “Why, Doctor? Why do you say that?” He looked at her, his eyes seemingly distant. “I gave the Daleks a chance once--could have made it so they never existed--now…” His voice trailed off and he looked sad and tired. He looked down at Martha’s hand on his elbow.

    Standing abruptly, the Doctor said “Well Martha, we’re not going to find out anything larking about in here.” Just then the door burst in and he and Martha found themselves surrounded by four Ice Warriors.

  • Dr Who Series 4 Spoiler!


    Here we see a scene from Dr Who Series 4. The Doctor will travel back in time--before the invention of Viagra--to try and defeat an evil gunfighter from the future. In this scene the gunfighter is having problems...cocking his gun.

  • No Harry Balls Here!

    Thought that would get your attention. :wave:

    Sometimes at work, our trunk lines get overwhelmed, causing the computer, for some funky reason of its own, to dial numbers in India, instead of the correct phone number in America. One of my co-workers pulled up the record of some guy named, "Harry Balz" (Yes, probably the same Harry guy that I got several months ago). Well, the computer did it's wonky thing, and she got some guy in India. She didn't realize right off she was ringing in India, mind, so she says, "Is Harry Balz there?" To which the Indian guy replies, "We have no hairy balls here."

    88| ;D

    This afternoon, I got a women--no joke, really--named "Baby Buttoms." Some woman's parents had one sick sense of humour.

    I'm off for a power nap. Back to work at twenty to five, for the second half of my shift. Have I mentioned that I really hate my job?

  • Gack!!!

    I'm exhausted! My apartment looks like a disaster area! How the heck am I going to get through today??? I'm falling asleep now, for pity's sake, and I've only been awake a couple of hours!

    Take a month off, the doctor says? Heck, I can't even get a blinking day off, for the next seven days! I hate my job....(sigh.)

    It's a nice day though, clearing skies, but I'll be sitting at a computer with a phone glued to my ear most the day, getting barked at and hung up on, by a bunch of snarky chavs, coast-to-coast. Still, beats cleaning loos--well, only a little.

    Gotta' pay the rent today--and I can't find the new manager's address! Damn!

    Too, too damn tired for all of this. Somebody just shoot me, already.

    Current temp: 58 F, 14 C under mostly sunny skies. Today's high: 77 F, 25 C.

  • Dr Who Captions for Friday

    Well, off in a bit for my long day--10 to 10. Five and a half hours on, one and a half hours off, five hours on. And, I get to go back tomorrow for another 6 hours, then my grocery shopping. Yippee!!! By the time next Friday rolls around (unless they change my schedule again) I'll have worked 10 days in a row with no break. :(

    So, did some of these to cheer me up:


    "Time for your spanking fangirls--now who wants to be first?"


    "Rose? Martha? Donna? Sarah? Jack? It's tough being the sexiest Timelord in history. What an exausting dream!"


    "So, Martha, you want to make my bed--with me in it? Hmmm--kinky..."

  • Borrowed from Sketchweasel:

    1. There are crumbs in your bed cos lets face it you don't live in a showhome. What kind of cookies do those crumbs come from?

    Friehoffer's original (white box) chocolate chips--soft and chewy brown sugar cookies, with decadent little dark chocolate, chocolate chips. My dog Sham used to drool over these--oh wait, that was me, sorry.

    2. You are sitting on the toilet brushing your teeth cos you are hungover as normal. What got you that drunk?

    I'm a telemarketer and I'm low-income. 'Nuff said?

    3. You have been dumped cos well, lets face it .. you are a loser. What comfort food do you grab? (after sticking pins in a voodoo doll obviously)

    Home cooking: Hot turkey sandwich, fries with gravy and peas. Takeaway: Big Mac and Super-size fries.

    4. Your wife/husband has pissed you off (that means angry in the US by the way ... not watersports) so you decide to go have an expensive gourmet meal on his/her credit card. What do you order?

    Appetizer: Corn and red onion fritters w/ jalapeno-cheddar sauce.

    Entree: Smoked Gouda and pine nut coated chicken, w/roasted garlic mashed potatoes and carmelized onions and carrots.

    Ice cold spring water w/lime.

    Dessert: Black Cherry-almond custard cake, coffee.

    5. Sitting in church (waiting for the lightning to strike you) and you have a book/magazine tucked inside the hymn sheet. What is it?

    Either the latest Dr Who book (if I could afford it), or a Louis L'amour western. Magazine: Western Horseman or The Nation.

  • Me? Sports? Ha-ha-ha!

    I never was much good at sports.

    And, I really don't like to play in public, much. Hate the shaking heads, the laughter.

    I used to play pool (snooker). Was okay at it, as a teen...in that I'd actually get a ball or two in the pockets, sometimes. Not anymore. I stopped going to the local pool hall, in Lake George, 'cause I hated the looks I'd get. Now, I hit the balls with my cue, and...they just sort of go wherever they want...the balls don't seem to pay one whit of attention to me, anymore. :lalala:

    I don't do spectator sports any longer, either, as well. Basketball, ten-pin bowling, volleyball, or even the golf driving range--people will watch you, and they aren't hesitant to make themselves feel superior at your expense, let me tell you.

    Which is why i like horseshoe pitching..nobody watches horseshoe pitching--not anymore, anyway...not in America--not exciting or entertaining enough. Short attention spans here, ya'know. And, I'm...okay, at it. I do make plenty of misses still--especially when my arm gets tired or I get distracted and lose concentration--but, out of ten tosses, I will make about three or four ringers, and some "leaners," on a good day--only one or two ringers out of ten pitches, on a bad one. It's really considered a "man's" sport, for some reason, so I don't compete or anything like that.

    Of course, I can still ride okay, as well--won't win any horsemanship classes anymore, but I am still alright at it--don't do all-out gallops, or special reining moves, or anything, but can still walk-jog-lope pretty well. Except that it hurts the heck out of my bad knee! It mean, it really aches--throbs, when I ride. I have to wear a knee brace and use loads of linament, as well.

    And mini-golf, I am..okay at that, as well--except the really hard one's, not so good at those. And I used to play darts, in my backyard--when I had a backyard, that is. I was rubbish, but I did okay, some days. I haven't a clue how to play dart games--I would just pick a number and chuck a dart at it, see if I could hit it, that's all.

  • SPAMMERS: Human cockroaches!

    This Chinese jerk that was hanging around last night--I made the mistake of warning him. Now the gloves are off!

    He's back, and is now posing as a 7 year old! What a maroon. Idiot.

    He's also posing as a visitor.

    He comments in Chinese in the blog as a 7 year old blogger, and then above the "kids" comment, lo and behold, is the stupid spam! Can't be a coincidence! No way.

    We must act together, consider us to be a giant can of Raid! And the spammers are the roaches crawling, with their dirty little links to junk we don't want, across our blogs at night, while we sleep.

    Spssst! Bloggers will drop spammers in their tracks!

    Stop this Chinese spammer dead. Report him immediately to Blog UK by clicking on "contact us" on the homepage, add copying and pasting links to the spammer's name and any suspect blog page. If the spammer is using a blog--FLAG THE BLOG!

    Stop spammers--don't let them overrun this blog with their mindless crap.


    REWARD: A SPAM-FREE BLOG! LET'S GET EM, BOYS AND GIRLS! LET'S ROUND UP THE BLOG.UK POSSE, AND HEAD 'EM OFF AT THE PASS!

  • Dr Who: The Killing Frost

    Doctor Who: The Killing Frost

    CHAPTER 2: A Chilling Experience

    “Right!” The Doctor exclaimed, “You stay here. I’m going to have a quick look about.” He ran over to the chair and shrugged back into his coat. . Martha stood staring for a second. She snorted. “Stay here and do what? Dust the Tardis console? Not on your life I’m not! I’m coming with you.” The Doctor stopped stock still. He ran his finger over the chair--it could do with a bit of dusting, actually. “The Tardis is self-cleaning.” He said defensively. Or, rather, it’s supposed to be.” He shrugged.

    Looking seriously at her, he said. “It could be very dangerous. I don’t know what’s out there, yet. But something tells me, whatever it is, it’s not good.” Martha smiled. “Well, I didn’t come with you just for the witty conversation, you know.” She stared at him determinedly. Smiling suddenly, the Doctor gave in.

    He sighed. “Oh alright, have it your way--" He frowned. "What's wrong with my conversation?" Martha just smiled an shook her head. "You mean, aside from the fact that you babble a million miles an hour, don't explain anything, and basically just do whatever you like without consulting anyone?" She chuckled. "Seriously, though? You're a fab conversationalist, really. We talk about things I never would have dreamed about discussing, before I met you." The Doctor appeased, grinned and said, "Okay then, let's go--" He pointed in the direction of the Tardis wardrobe, saying sternly, "But first, you’d better put some warmer clothes on.” Martha ran back down the Tardis hallway, to search for a coat. “And hurry up!” He called after her, needlessly.

    Walking in the frosty night, the Doctor and Martha skirted around the lake. The Doctor pulled a little box from his pocket and began taking readings. Martha looked about. Despite the cold, she thought the surroundings quite lovely…the frost had rimed the leaves on the trees, making them seem like something out of an enchanted forest. Pity about the dead flowers, though, she thought to herself. Martha stooped down to look at a flower that had yet to wither--that’s when she saw the feet. She gave a start, and knelt down in the freezing earth, calling out “Doctor!”

    The Doctor ran over and, seeing the body, knelt down beside her. She felt for a pulse--but the body was frozen solid. It was a blue-eyed blond haired young man, good looking, wearing a white tee shirt and running shorts. His eyes were wide open in a startled expression. At first there seemed to be no other trauma to the body, until the Doctor turned him over. On his back had been burned a red hole, but it didn’t seem to have penetrated the body.

    Martha heard the Doctor gasp. She looked at him. “What? What is it, Doctor? What could have possibly left a mark like that? I’ve never seen anything like it before.” The Doctor’s expression was nothing less then incredulous. “No. It can’t be.” Martha was stared at the Doctor, than looked down once again at the very dead young man. “What? What did this to him? Was it alien?” He was silent, head bowed, his mind working furiously. “You’ve seen this before then?”

    The Doctor looked at her, eyes wide. He bit his lip. “Yes. You’re right. It is alien. Or to be more specific, Martian.” Martha stared. “What? You’re joking right? You mean, Martian? Like Martian, Martian? Like little green men from mars, Martian? The Doctor nodded. “Not green, more…reptilian. But yes. Martian. The Doctor turned the boy back over and gently closed his eyes. Martha looked at the young man sadly. “He was so young, what could he have done to deserve this? And why? Who are these Martians of yours, Doctor?” He looked at her soberly. "They're..."

    Just then, a blazing spear of light slashed the branches just above their heads. The Doctor and Martha looked up to see some ponderous figures moving towards them in the icy mist. The Doctor yelled, “Into the trees, quickly! Run!”

  • And..speaking of codpieces...

    Just what was George Bush trying to prove?

    (Very long pause...)

    EWWWWWW---!!!!!

  • Proof Henry VIII wasn't shy

    Obviously, fat old Henry was rather proud of his...endowment. I'm told he had an active sex life.

    (Pause) Ewwww---.

  • Just a half a bubble off plumb

    You Are 38% Strange!

    You are a bit strange, though still more normal than strange. You definitely have some quirks, don't get me wrong. But you aren't exactly freaking out old ladies on the street. It's okay though, you've got a healthy mixture of strangeness and normality.

    How Strange Are You?
    Quizzes for MySpace

    Damn! I like freaking out old ladies on the street... :))

  • Borrowed from madogsandenglishmen:

    This Is My Life, Rated
    Life: 3.7
    Mind: 4.9
    Body: 4.3
    Spirit: 5.4
    Friends/Family: 1.9
    Love: 0
    Finance: 3.1
    Take the Rate My Life Quiz

    AVERAGE SCORES:

    LIFE: 6.2

    MIND: 6.2

    BODY: 6

    SPIRIT: 6.8

    FRIENDS/FAMILY: 5.5

    LOVE: 5.4

    FINANCE: 6.6

    Okay, basically, my life totally sucks and I should just die now and have done with it. :wave::>>

  • Now for something completely different...

    That last post was a real downer. Here's something that's a little more upbeat. Something to tidy your flat by...

  • Adding a Few More Bricks to my Wall

    So, still not a peep from the guy I thought was my good friend. I suppose if he truly had been my friend, he would have at said something, he would show a little more respect for me, maybe. But then again, maybe not. I don't know.

    This is the third time this has happened in the course of the past year. And I think I'm going to take the hint. First, it was my best local friend. Something happened--I've a vague notion, but am not entirely sure, and she just stopped writing and calling me. Just stopped. Oh, she sent me a Christmas card, but not a peep from her since. She changed her mobile number, so I can't ring her up. She hasn't responded to my e-mails and cards. She's just dropped me like a hot rock. Another friend from a Dr Who forum did the same thing, often writing me, she and I were becoming friends, and then one day--nothing. She still "talks" to me, sometimes, on the site--but just a sentence, maybe a few words, nothing more, and not often.

    So, I'm taking the hint. I'm putting another brick in my wall. I will still care about the few friends I have--I'd never shut someone out because of what another person has done, but by God, I'm not going to allow myself to get close to anyone else. NO. It's just not worth it, you know?

    Oh, I will still be nice and all, and I won't shut myself off from new people--but, that said, I, from now on in, will have no more new friends. I won't give out my personal info to anyone, not ever. I'm tired of the hate. Of the meanness, the pettiness, the selfishness. People using me. People treating me like I'm invisible. No more. I'm building my own personal version of Hadrian's Wall. I will never date again. I won't allow myself to love. No one's ever going to love me, not in an unselfish way. I can't bring myself to believe that. That kind of love just doesn't happen, only in fairy tales, or to people who are nice-looking or trendy, or have normal, sane lives. People like me--we just get used. That's simply reality. That's the way the world works--always has. We get shoved out of having a normal life, an everyday existence.

    I mean, do people all the time, really go for tea or coffee? Do they hang out in bars with their best mates? Have friends and family over for dinner or a night at home? Go shopping together? Meet each other at fetes and festivals and just have a good time? Do women really go to the beauty pallor together? Do people go walking together? Sit around and play games?

    I wouldn't know. I've seldom had that pleasure, except with mum. One of the highlights of 2004, was when my friend(?) took me and this other friend of hers to an antique carriage auction in Pennslyvania for the weekend--we had so much fun. It was the only "normal" thing I've done in years. We stayed up half the night giggling over stuff, we had dinner together, talked about stuff, just enjoyed looking around at things--it was a genuine joy. I actually felt like a normal human being, that weekend. But...good things never last long, do they?

    Anyway, the wall's up. I will never stop caring about the friends I have. But, that said, I've decided I don't want any more that the one's I've already got. It's just not worth the heartache. The not knowing what I did to push them away. And maybe I don't want to know, might make me feel worse.

  • Who says they have short memories???

    I was just getting ready to hit the sack. I'd been going through my box of old photos, thinking to maybe put a few more on CD, when Flame ambled along, and sniffed the box. I held up a photo of mum: "Look Flame! I've got a picture of mommy!" I held it up to her. "Remember mommy flamey?"

    Do you know, she got all excited? She sniffed the pic up and down--got her face up to it and actually seemed to be staring at the photo. Then, I asked, "Do you remember mommy, Flame?" She jumped up, all aquiver, and TOUCHED THE PHOTO WITH HER PAW! Her eyes sparkled. I said, "Mommy's gone sweetie, but I know whereever she is, she still loves you, very much." Flame went, "rowr!" and, crouching down, wiggled her bottom and sprang off into the bedroom, joyfully.

    I know maybe she just thought I was playing with her, or maybe it was just the way I was speaking to her--but man, I don't think so. Flame, during mum's last days at home, stayed by her, morning, noon and night. Flame's a little nurse-cat. She's very caring and sensitive to upsets and illnesses. When I cam home from my stay at hospital, several weeks ago, Flame stayed right by me in bed the whole time I was recovering. Minute I felt better--she went off to sleep elsewhere. Flame's got her quirks, but she's a real sweetheart.

  • Dr Who Captions for Thrusday.


    His companions discover that the Doctor's bathing habits include showering in his suit, while singing American show tunes..."Ohhhh--kalhoma where the wind comes sweeping down the plaain---"


    "Rose, I know this is sonic, but I'm really getting tired of having to fetch it out of your bedroom."

  • First they take our jobs--NOW they spam us!!!

    Lovely. First the Chinese have taken millions and millions of American jobs from us (ala the friggin' Free-Trade Agreement), NOW some jerk from China is spamming my blog with links to crap that I don't want, can't afford, and simply don't give a damn about ever owning. Jerk.

    Blogs are for freedom of expression, they are a form of journal. Bogs are for being crative, for thinking, speaking your mind. Selling is not freedom of expression. Selling isn't about life and thought and the power of the written word. It's just..selling.

    I've got nothing against the Chinese as individual people, a great culture...but, gah! Get a REAL job--go clean some toilets and take out rubbish for a living, like I've been forced to do, go toddle off and do some actual WORK for a living boy, quit bothering the REAL bloggers, stop pissing off the adults, kid, there's a good little lad...

    The bad blogger is mp2playerswholesale or something like that.

  • De-tassel Hassle or, 15 minutes in Hell

    There is a Hell, and it's called telemarketing. Tonight I worked on calling people who signed up for a long-term membership, some even had made as many as half their payments, and stopped paying. Basically, collections calls.

    Half my calls tonight slammed the phone in my ear, the minute I said the words "_____club." 35 percent screamed at me, for: the computer dialing a wrong number, them not reading the fine print about the payment plan (Yeah, right. The club, out of the goodness of their hearts, is going to give these people 250 to 300 dollars of free gifts, AND a lifetime subscription to the magazine, for just 24 dollars? Okay, then...), got holler at for asking for a boy/girl friend who moved out and why am I calling--(because, stupid, they never told the club they moved), yelled at for daring to ask for them payment right then and there (albeit very, very politely), asking why I'm calling their child and (my info doesn't list age) why is he a member? (Doh--because he sent in a membership voucher without telling you?)..and on and on.

    Got the usual drunks and non-English speaking people (they can't speak a word of English but they get an English-only magazine? And subscribe for a long-term membership? Riiiight), the snarky wives, the assinine rednecks...the usual, in other words.

    But, the highlight of the night: getting a little old lady from Iowa at 9:57pm. Oh, I made the sale--at 10:08pm (quitting time is at 10)...but only after this old woman (she was nice, to be fair) yakked my ear off about how her and her family spent the last three days de-tasseling their corn...and I learned in that time, more than I ever possibly want to know, about the intricacies and hassles of detasseling corn

    Detasselling is a nasty job, usually done by teenagers or migrant farm workers. You only do it for seed corn or corn used for industrial purposes. The tassel in question that you must remove, is down in the plant still, covered by the leaves. Not the wavy stuff on top. And if the tassel is covered with slimy bugs--oh well, get over it. It's a wet, muddy job, only done while the dew is on the corn--sunrise to late morning. You can get "corn rash" from being in constant contact with the wet stalks. Detasselling is mostly done in the American mid-west, where the seed crops for major agricultural seed dealers orginate from: Iowa and Illinois, mainly.

    See, I learned stuff tonight! What the hell I'll ever use this info for--other than my blog, I've no clue whatsoever. Maybe I can incorporate it into a Dr Who story...the Doctor Does Iowa. The Taris lands in a corn field, but it's not really corn--it's really evil alien seeds that will be used to take over the human race. The Doctor saves the day by detassling the corn with nothing more than his sonic screwdriver and a wad of used chewing gum. Nahh--- :roll:

    So that's how I wound up putting in 15 minutes of Hell tonight, hearing a nice old woman prattle on about hassles of removing corn tassel buds. Lovely way to spend an evening, ey?

  • I Am Poloinus! And I Suck! And I Don't Care, I'm having too Much Fun

    My one---and only--stint at playing anything even remotely Shakespearian, was when my Acting II class did an in-class play, The Fifteen Minute Hamlet. It was a blast! As usual, I was dead-awful, but still, I threw myself into it with gusto, as always. Learned to make an arse of myself in public a long time ago! :yes:

    Here we are in our first run-through. I'm wearing the goofy hat, because I figured since I was playing a guy, I ought to sort of look the part. The prof liked it, so the hat stayed in for the remaainder of rehersals. I found out the hard way, that old wool boating hat could get very hot, when they finally turned on the stage lights, two weeks later.. :.

  • David Tennant: Not Yer Average Four-Eyes

    I read, today, that actor David Tennant has been nominated as "Celebrity Spectacle Wearer of the Year." Congrats to David, you go guy! (From one eye-glass wearer to another)

  • Mosques, Beauty and Tranquility

    A lot of people, when they visit Egypt, only think of the great pyramids and temples of the past. Many fail to see the simple yet complex beauty of the many mosques.

    They are wonders of geometric detail, the mosques. And, there's something incredibly soothing, about relaxing in the middle or end of the day, to the sound of the singing, broadcast from loudspeakers, all over the city. I had one wonderful experience, sitting on the desert sand, literally at the edge of the Fayoum Oasis, and hearing the singing floating up from the far-distant town by the water. It was a monent filled with peace and traquility.

    THE CITADEL, CAIRO

  • Again???

    New scam, lovin' it: Got another e-mail in my box, extorting the wonders of my writing and wanting me to shell out money for publishing my stuff. This time, to the tune of $2100 dollars! (Roughly, a little over a thousand pounds), that's about double my monthly salary!!!! Nutters, thinking all Americans are rich. We may be stupid, but we ain't all rich!

  • Be a Virtual Jockey!

    If you've ever wanted to know what it's like to be a jockey--here's your chance. Filmed at historic Saratoga Race Course.

  • Mid-Week mind-wanderings

    Feeling better, glad to say.

    I do have an infection, but have to wait till Saturday to get the meds, as 1. I'm nearly broke, after paying the rent, and 2. I have to work 10 1/2 split shift, Friday, no way I'm going to spend my lunch hour hanging around the druggist, waiting for my script to be filled. I only have to work five hours Saturday, so it can wait 'till then. I'd go tomorrow, but have to spend the last of my spare cash at the laundromat, as I'm near out of clean clothes again. I miss my car so much, when it comes to little things like laundry and shopping. It takes so much longer to do simple chores and errands, when you've no car--cabs, buses, even walking...can take one an hour to two hours longer just to do ordinary stuff that way. But, it's not like I have a choice, do I? No use grumbling about it. I just have to face it--I'm a prisoner to the cab and bus companies.

    Well, rainy day here--a good kind of rain, the kind we've been needing. Most of our rain, for the past month and a half, has come from storms--quick bursts of heavy rain. We've not had a good all-day soaker in quite some time. Some of the creek beds up north, I'm told, are nearly dry. So this should be good. Raining pretty good out there, right now. I'd rather the rain any day, then that gosh-awful tropical heat and humitity we had, before. That just zaps the very life-force out of you, that sort of weather.

    I have to go out later--she groans. I'd rather take a nap--rainy days are good days for catching up on one's lost sleep, or, in my case catching up on my sleep AND recuperating my health. But, not today, alas. Have to go to the office supply store outside of town, and fax some stuff to my student lenders. Long afternoon ahead--it's only a mile away, but it can take half an hour just to get there, by bus. And another 45 minutes--standing around in the rain, getting back, because this is moronic Glens Falls, and there's no bus stop on the other side of the street--means I have to get on where I got off, travel in the opposite direction of where I live--ride the bus to the end of the line, and wait for it to head south again. That totally sucks. Totally. There's only two bus shelters in the entire transit system, as well--one downtown Glens Falls, and one in Queensbury at the Wal-Mart store.

    So, yeah, gonna' get just a little wet, this afternoon. Oh, I don't mind much. Heck, if I could work outdoors all day with a 60 below ( minus 51 C) wind chill blowing in my face, I can handle getting wet. Outside of the tropical heat, and thunderstorms and ice storms, when it comes to weather, with me, it's six in one, half a dozen the other. Rain, sun, cold, snow, sub-zero temps, raging blizzards, pouring rain... whatever--no big deal. I'm a northeasterner...most weather's not going to stop me. Geez, this area has even held parades during snow storms...weather's weather, not much one can do about it, ey? I've even had people, at the amusement park, when I was running the rides, go on rides when it was snowing/pouring rain. Just another day, to us. Don't know why some people fuss so much about normal rain--now, last June, that was different. We were ready to start loading up the ark, ha-ha. Heaviest rainfall ever, in western NY state, since the 1860's...it poured down buckets of rain for three weeks straight! That was a bit of a drag--especially since the windscreen wipers on my car had ceased working! And I had a 35-mile drive to my job at the racetrack/casino. That was...a bit of a challenge, I must say.

    I like the rain. Rainy days seldom get me down--except when mum and I had the flea market business...bit of a drag, selling in the rain and mud, that was.

    Well, I'll be off in an hour or so, so must get on, make lunch and tidy up a bit. Cheers.

  • Dr Who: The Killing Frost

    Another unfinished piece of fan fiction that I'd begun--and completely forgot about. I wrote in January...but oddly barely remember doing it. I mean, yes, I remember writing it, but for some reason I just let it go and pushed it out of my mind. No idea why, but now I reckon I'll have another go at it. It's probably a lousy story, if I "forgot" about it, but maybe I can salvage it...we'll see, I suppose. I've some ideas for an all-new story, with the Doctor and Donna, but have to watch RB a few times, to get a better feel for Donna's character, before have a stab at writing her. Anyway, here's the first chapter of "Killing Frost," such as it is. Playwrite27 (N.)

    Doctor Who: The Killing Frost

    CHAPTER 1: Mystery in the Park

    The night was still and cold. In the park, the grass bore a heavy rime of white frost, and the trees glistened with it, their interlacing branches looking like giant crystals. Colourful flowers were bowed down with the weight of it. A light icy mist clung to the ground in some places. A skim of ice covered the nearby lake, as ducks and geese burrowed their heads deeper into their feathers as they slept. Suddenly, with a great squawk, some of the birds took wing into the night. A wheezing and groaning noise ripped apart the hushed scene, as a blue police box materialized under some trees near the lakeside.

    The door opened and a thin man in a brown overcoat emerged, followed by a slender woman in a short brown leather jacket, jeans and boots. Looking around, the Doctor rubbed his hands together and frowned deeply. The woman looked at him askance. “A lovely stroll through the park, you said, to take in the spring flowers. Yeah, right. If this is spring, I’d hate to see your idea of winter, Doctor. I’m going back inside where it’s warmer.” With that said, she stepped back into the Tardis. But the Doctor barely noticed her going.

    Looking around him, his every sense told him this was wrong, very wrong. It was supposed to be a Saturday afternoon in May, in Swansea. It should be sunny and warm--or, at the very least, rainy and cool. The Doctor looked all around him, a puzzled frown creasing his face. “This isn’t right,” he muttered to himself. “it should be broad daylight. The park should be filled with people strolling about, children playing, birds singing--mimes. Although," He muttered, scratching his cheek, "maybe that's not such a bad thing. I hate mimes." He shook his head, saying aloud, "Why’s it so cold?" Jamming his hands in his coat pockets, he shrugged and strode back into the console room. Maybe he had gotten the date and time wrong. He’d better check.

    Martha was seated on the console’s chair, arms folded and looking slightly cross. The Doctor rushed in and shrugged out of his coat. He flung it at Martha. “Hold this, will you?” He asked absently. She shook her head. “Well it’s always nice to know that at least I’m good for something.” Martha muttered under her breath. The Doctor spared her a brief grin, then frowning in concentration, he began stabbing at buttons. He glared at the monitor. “Oh, well. then, now that's really funky. No, this is definitely not right.”

    Leaving the coat on the chair, Martha walked over and stared at the monitor screen--not that she had a clue what it said. "So what? We're not in Wales, or we're in Wales, just not in the right season? Or," She asked wryly, “does the Tardis get its weather reports wrong, as well?" Looking fiercely serious, the Doctor stared at the monitor. “None of the above--good guesses, though. No, we're in the right place, the right time, only…” Rubbing his chin, The Doctor’s voice trailed off as his mind began doing complex calculations. Martha leaned over his shoulder. “Only what, Doctor, what is it?” She asked anxiously. The Doctor looked genuinely dumbfounded. "I...don't have a clue." He said lamely.

  • "Wal-Mart Time" and Crazy Slang

    You know, doing telemarketing long enough, and sooner or later, you will get someone who's truly, genuinely, totally, bonkers--I mean sectioned-city.

    The Door is open but nobody's home, a few fries short of a Happy Meal, Several bricks short of a load, the lift doesn't go all the way to the top, jumping without a parachute, his/her racket's un-strung, The tyres are spinning but the car's not moving, bowling without a ball, several eggs short of a dozen, the road doesn't go all the way to the end, a few swallows less than a pint, one beer short of a six-pack, not playing with a full deck, A few slices short of a loaf, all frosting and no cake, the train didn't quite make it to the station, the stuffing is missing from the pillow, golfing without clubs, his/her book is missing some pages, the ocean doesn't reach the shore, not all the nuts are in the candy bar, fruiter than a fruitcake, fiddling without a bow, squirrel food, his/her bucket's got a hole in it, some of the animals are missing from the zoo...go ahead, pitch in at any time... :crazy:

    I got this woman on the phone tonight--asked for some guy--and the lady starts bawling her eyes out! I thought okaayy...now what? Then she, between sobs, says that I have a wrong number, and I apologize, but before I can ask if she's okay, She says, crying harder, can she ask me a favour--well, I'm thinking she wants me to ring an ambulance or the police, right? Wrong. She wants to know if I'd mind telling her, if I'd "accepted Jesus." Huh??? :.

    Okaaay--then. "Erm--yeah, I guess I have." Is all I think I managed sputter out--well, I was bracing myself to spring into action, had my pen out, and was already madly scribbling down her name, address and telephone number, so the boss could ring the police...wasn't quite expecting the conversation to swing in a religious direction, was I?

    So, after more crying and some more rather incoherent praising of Jesus, I finally managed to end the call--almost.

    I thank her and bid her a good night, when she blurts out--and I'm NOT making this up--"It's 8:14, Wal-Mart time, thank you for calling."

    Er? 88|

    Am I missing something? Has Wal-Mart's become so big, that they have their own time-zone now? Now, when you enter a Wal-Mart, do you have to re-set your wrist watch?

    Will K-Mart, Sears, Target and Asda all have their own in-store time zones now?

    Man, like I said,

    The ski-lift doesn't go all the way up the mountain, only rowing with one oar in the water, a few chips short of a chippy, the gun is missing some bullets, mad as a March hare, crazy as a loon, too many nuts in his/her nutloaf, the gourd is missing some seeds, fell off the 'tater wagon, the driveway doesn't go all the way to the road, bats in the old belfry, half a bubble off plumb, a few fish shy of a full string, a sandwich short of a picnic, odder than a three-dollar bill, knitting with only one needle, playing basketball without a basket, driving without a steering wheel, his/her barn door is un-hinged, only 13 lines in his/her sonnet, the boat's got no tiller, got a hole in his/her bag of marbles, got a few toys in the old attic, sewing without a needle and thread, waltzing without an orchestra, the cupboard is empty, not enough apples left on the tree....

  • Poorly Kitty gets New England Folk Remedy

    A friend of mine had a young cat who became ill, recently. It went to sleep one afternoon and she couldn't get it to wake up.

    So, she called the vet. He told her to try several remedies, to no avail. Kitty was still in a coma. So, as a very last resort, the Vermont country vet told her to take a medicine dropper, and put just a fractional amount of gasoline (petrol) on it's tongue.

    So, she went into the garden shed, got out the gas can, poured out a small amount of gas and put a drop into a medicine dropper.

    Kitty's owner kneels down next to the basket where the poor wee thing is lying. She opens his mouth and puts a drop on kitty's tongue. Nothing happens.

    Kitty's owner is on her mobile calling the vet back, when all of the sudden, with a mighty yowl, kitty springs up out of his basket, and starts racing madly about the room.

    The owner later related to me, how she watched, open-mouthed, as her little cat basically raced about the room in circles, then, finally, it flopped over, passed out cold. "Oh, I asked, "what happened?"

    Kitty's owner replied, "He ran out of gas."

    GOT'CHA.

  • Dr Who? Captions Again

    Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking...again? Sorry. What can I say? I haven't a life anymore. And...well, us old maids have to do something to amuse ourselves.


    Because of pending extensive budget cuts, Dr Who star David Tennant will now assume the roles of both the Doctor AND his companion. But, the actor is far from daunted: "I like a challenge--well, truthfully, I really do like getting to wear ladies knickers and stockings..."


    Here we seen Actor David Tennant's reaction, when one of his co-stars publicly reveals on the air, that that big bulge in Tennant's trousers is really last year's Christmas haggis.

  • Dueling banjos--one performer. Funny!!!

    And if you want to be wowed by some really fine picking--just wait for the last minute or so of the video.

  • Eggs that help you "get up" in the morning?

    Another fine product brought to you by the Tackychav Company.

  • Quick note AND Life Lesson #467

    Just got with the doctor's office. They are leaning towards yet another infection. Won't know for sure until the test results come back. Oh golly gee whiz, more antibiotics, lucky me. I sweat so much last night, my pillow and hair were soaking wet when I woke this morning. So I figured something's not kosher with me.

    This is the same doctor who told me a several weeks ago, that I should take a month off, go somewhere nice and just rest. Yeah. Someone doesn't live on Planet Reality. Oh sure, losing my job, my cats, my apartment and all my possessions, so I can take a month's holiday and "get well." That's not going to be stressful for me, nahhh! Right. And, moving on...

    I got an e-mail on Saturday, saying that this person, "Mark," liked my writing on my blog so much, that he wanted to publish my stuff in a book. Claimed he was with a small publishing company in the U.K.

    Okay, I'm not naive, honest, not anymore anyway. Been jerked around and ripped off, once too often for that. But, the letter was polite, well-written (unlike a lot of those con artists, with poor grammar and bad spelling, trying to pass themselves off as business professionals), so I clicked on the link he gave me. It seemed legit at a casual glance...but, not a lot of info on the webpage--it was a little too pat and generic for me. So, I Google'd a bit, and...nothing. There is no such publishing company in the UK. I have a source--a website that I found, back in my college days, that lists every known publisher in the USA, Canada, UK, Australia and NZ, and several other countries, besides. I had to dig to find it, as I didn't remember exactly what the site name was. The ONLY listing, anywhere, that I can find for "Excalibur Publishing," is on the web, and it's a video game company, not a book publisher.

    But, armed with this, I went back to the "publishing" house's webpage--just to make sure I got the name right, and that is wasn't some quirky spelling I'd not noticed, or to see if it was listed under another name. Nope, that was the name. And, towards the bottom, in very tiny print--was a button, "getting published."

    Turns out, YOU pay them, to publish your book---five hundred pounds (1000 dollars) up front!

    I wrote the guy and told him to please remove my e-mail from his mailing list. That if I had a 1000 dollars, I'd be paying off a small debt, buying groceries and a perhaps a couple of clothing items I do need, and saving the rest for a rainy day...of which I seem to have too many of, these days.

    I went to the webpage, today---no longer exists! No really, the link no longer works!

    LIFE LESSON NUMBER 467:

    If it sounds way too good to be true, if someone pops in out of the blue, offering to make your dreams a reality, don't you believe it---someone's just after your money, they don't really give a damn about you.

  • Bleh!

    Yours truly is being forced to take half a day off. I'm incredibly ill today, for some reason. Wasn't well last night, but passed it off as just common stomach upset.

    Had a bit of a rich dinner last night--my cherried chicken, with coucous flavoured with garlic and herbs, and some brussel sprouts. Figured my stomach just wasn't handling the rich food. With rising prices and lower pay checks, I can only do meals like this, maybe once or twice a week--if at all, so my stomach's not used to this stuff, any longer. I don't mean that I'm starving or anything, not at all--but low budgets mean cheaper and less nutritious meals, at least, here in America, they do. What one could by for 40 dollars (20 pounds), just a year or two ago, can now cost as much as 50 to 60 dollars today, depending where one shops/lives.

    Anyway, last night I figured that a little of the ol' Pepto stuff (gah-I hate that stuff) would make things right.

    Guess again. Concerned because the pain is near my kidney, so, even tho' can't afford it at all, it's back to the doctor's for me. I'll work night shift, tho', losing half a day's pay is bad enough, a whole day's pay would totally bankrupt my already near non-existent budget!

    So, I have to be off, later today, to do stuff. Flame's sunning herself in the open window..she's taken to sleeping on my clean towels in the bathroom...great. Now I'll have cat hair on my face and body when I get out of the shower.

    I had the two boys sleeping in my bed with me, most the night--they are big boys and it's a small bed and they take up a LOT of space! Not as much as Shamrock used to. My half-collie weighed nearly seventy pounds (we don't use "stone" over here, by the way), and sometimes I'd wake up of a morning, as she'd be stretched out beside me, with her head on my pillow, snoring away, just like a person would do. Thank heaven she didn't have fleas!

    Here's a pic of Shamrock with my late mum, taken in our driveway at home, in the summer of 1979:

    The picture quality is so poor, because I didn't have this roll of film developed until 2005! Still have some rolls in my photo box from the seventies, that have never been done...maybe someday..

  • Yup. More Cow stuff.

    Another picture I took on my one of my country drives through Washington County, NY. Snapped this pic of a Gurnsey cow on a little back road in Fort Ann, New York. Fort Ann is in the southern Adirondack mountain region, about a 40 minute drive from the Vermont border.

    The photo was shot in early October of 2004.

  • Cow-a-bunga! The Cow-cow Boogie

  • David Tennant in the News:

    Seems members and visitors of the website, UKTV Drama, have voted David Tennant "Best Doctor Who Ever." He got over half the votes. Congrats, David!

    The website says, "Warm, quirky and sentimental, he's the Doctor with the most heart." Also, they add that one person on their messageboards says this of Mr. Tennant: "He's got a smile that outshines a million candles."

  • A Telemarketers America

    Here's my very un-scientific analysis of Regional differences, from a telemarketers point of view. I've called coast to coast, every state in the USA, and every single province of Canada.

    I'm doing this as a series, where I'll discuss my personal experiences with populations from various regions across the U.S.

    As far as the USA goes, here's my less-than-in-depth analysis of what people are like in various states/regions of the US, when it comes to basic telephone behaviour and general personality quirks:

    Part I--New York and New England:

    NEW ENGLAND:

    Maine--bonkers. No, really. Mainers largely very nice, but also are bonkers. No lie. Trying to have a sensible conversation with the average Mainer is a bit of a challenge--okay, it's maddening. I like Mainers, don't get me wrong, but I HATE talking to them. It's like, people from Maine are born already sectioned. Here's how one old lady answered the phone, recently, when I asked for her by name, "Yes, she's right here." (LONG PAUSE) "Well, can I speak with her ma'am?" "You can speak with her all you want." (GRINDING MY TEETH) "That's good. But is she available to come to the phone right now?" "Yes." (LONG PAUSE)--then a light dawns. "Is this Mrs. McDonalad?" "That's what I said, I'm right here. What do you want?" ARRGH!!!! Mainers!!!! (About that time I'm ready to bang my head on my desk)
    And that's a NORMAL conversation, okay?

    Vermont and New Hampshire both are very closed, suspicious and abrupt...oh, and cheap, very cheap. Not a myth about New Englander's being tight-wads with their money--they really are.

    New Yorkers (varies from region to region)

    People in the metro NYC area are mostly nice, tho' sometimes in a bit of a hurry.
    People in downstate New York and Long Island (downstate = north of NYC and south of the mid-Hudson valley) are largely uptight, paranoid, egotistical and snobby. But, like other areas, there are pockets of nice here and there.
    People in upstate and northeastern New York are uptight, paranoid, mean and self-centred--mostly. There's pockets of nice--mostly in rural areas. I speak from a lifetime of experience, and not just as a telemarketer.
    People in Northern New York are a mixture of both nice and uptight.
    People in Western New York are mostly pretty nice. Except for Buffalo...those people are a bit odd--but hey, it's Buffalo... ;D

    New Jersey: A mixture across the board...there's nice, uptight and snarky, and rude chavs. Regionally, the rural people are nicer to deal with. The closer to NYC one gets, the more one finds the negative people.

    Pennslyvania: half-and-half: half nice and half uptight snobs.

    Massachusetts: A bit distant and mildly snobbish, sometimes rude, but reasonably intelligent--you can actually talk to most of them, which is more than I can say, sadly, for most of America. Like many places in the region, there are pockets of nice people, here and there, tho' unlike many places, there's no clear pattern marking the nice regions from the snobby and rude areas. It seems to be random, which is actually unusual.

    Rhode Island (don't get many of these). Snobs. Right across the board. A lot like Vermonters, as well.

  • Old Glories

    Another B&W pic I took for my college art class. I found this 1920's tractor sitting out in an old hay field, on state route 32, just north of the town of Gansevoort in Saratoga County, New York. Again, I used 400 speed film and an auto-focus 35mm camera. I gave the picture the above title for my art project.

  • A Dr Who Caption Before Bedtime


    Pining for Rose and Martha, also Captain Jack and the Master, the Doctor decides to run away from the Tardis and join the circus.

  • What the Queen really does, when Bush visits


    "Pssst. Tell that idiot I'm...indisposed--permanently."


    "Hey, ya'll! Where's yer little ol' Queeenie at?"

  • Off with 'er 'ead!

    Well, I do seem to be going senile. I'm nursing home bound, I am.

    My focus just isn't there, today. Times like this, I really wish I had a stable life and/or someone with me, just to help me get my head on straight--this stress is really deteriorating my brain cells, I swear. Nights like this, I think I should just do away with my head, altogether.

    I put down my student loan hardship deferment form, and...can't find it now! I mean, I only live in three flippin' rooms (not counting the loo--oh, why'nt I look there?)....

    Yup! Whew! I mean, that's really disconcerting--one minute you've got something in your hand, the next--no clue. I've gotta' get this done and faxed to these people by Wednesday, or I'm deep in the nasty brown stuff, know what I mean?

    It's only a 6-month economic hardship deferment, but it will keep me from literally losing the little bit I have--including the roof over my head, my cats, my furnishings, my late mum's knick-knacks, my books, my computer, etc...

    Yeah. LOL. Like I'm gonna' be any richer in six months. I mean, I was economically better off six months ago, than I am right now. So I'm not so sure six months from now if that's gonna' change at all.

    Basically, financially speaking, when it comes to student loans in America, the poor are essentially dead meat. Bush and Co. pretty much ripped to shreds any legal protections student loan recipients have. We can't claim our loans in bankruptcy proceedings. Isn't that ever so nice of Uncle Sam? They throw this money at us--but if we can't get a DECENT FRIGGIN' PAYING JOB--we're screwed!

    I loved college (mostly), but, from a practical standpoint--it was five years totally and utterly flushed down the loo. I went to school to get out of poverty--and I'm very much worse off now, than I was before I went back to school! F__K that! (Pardon my language, but that's the way I feel.)

    I was actually better off on nothing but disability---I had housing assistance, food assistance, heating (bills) assistance...and a regular cheque that came in the mail each month--the same amount every month.

    Now--my life is rubbish. There's a reason I don't own a gun. Seriously, I mean it. Every time I turn around, since 2005, things just go from bad to worse--what the hell kind of life is that?

    Reality check: Things are probably not "going to get better." Month in and month out, on a daily basis sometimes, it's a miserable, stressful, frightening and depressing sort of life.

    I can't even find a second part-time job as an office cleaner, chamber maid or dishwasher--turned down at every corner. My health of late, isn't helping anything. I can't afford--literally, any more doctor's visits, let alone hospitalizations. Forget it. I'd rather just let it go, quite frankly, than have any more bills I simply can't pay. What the hell difference does it make, in all seriousness? I'm sorry, but sometimes, I just feel, financially speaking, like I'm being marched into life's gas chamber. No matter what I do, how hard I try, it's just still going to be rubbish, in the end. And all my efforts are for naught.

    Ah well, dealing with this paperwork stuff, and these nasty student loan yuppie brats (why do they hire yuppies for sensative jobs like student loan assistance and social work--these young men and women from well-off homes almost all have no clue, and no patience, and no empathy at all with the poor--so why even get into that line of work? (Money! It pays well, and ego, they can say they "help" people--even tho' they usually don't.)

  • A Dr Who one-off

    Since I'm taking a bit of a break between Dr Who stories, here's a tiny little piece I wrote last year. It's a one-off, meant to be what's known as a Round Robin story (where different people pitch in and contribute individual chapters), I wrote the first chapter--it just didn't fly. The character of the Producer was inspired by the character of the Controller of Satilite (or how the heck-ever one spells that) Five in Series 1 of Who...and Who knows? It may be the same guy.... :. It takes place in Hollywood in the late 1970's, and features a certain Doctor from that era:

    Dr Who: The Producer

    The Producer strode into the smoky board room, staring about him with a jaundiced eye. In his five-hundred dollar cream colored polyester leisure suit and open necked red paisley silk shirt he strode silently back and forth across the room, restlessly pacing like a caged tiger. Every last one of the assembled flunky’s sitting apprehensively at the long table had been twittering nervously amongst themselves before his arrival. Now they sat in stone cold silence, waiting word from their master. The pale man continued pacing and pacing in silence, eyeing his assistants like a king before his cowed slaves.

    He stopped. Pursing his lips, he rocked back and forth on his heels and looked them up and down skeptically. “Well,” he boomed sarcastically, “the competition has us down the crapper again, boys and girls.” He sneered. “No thanks to you.” He added sarcastically. He leaned inwards, placing his hands upon the table in an almost predatory gesture. The flunky’s leaned back involuntarily.

    “Spelling has us dead to rights. The Love Boat has taken the top Saturday night slot yet again…and Fantasy Island trails right behind it.” He curled his lip in what passed for a smile. “The question is, boys and girls…” He hesitated. Abruptly, he slapped the table with his open palm, causing the water glasses and papers on the table to quiver. “What’re we going to do about it?” He shouted at the top of his lungs.

    One of the flunky’s, a young woman with a heap of long blond hair and a curvy body encased in a tight-fitting pink jumper, replied in a quavering voice: “S-sir? There’s s-s-someone outside I think you should-should s-see.” She slid a little lower in her chair as the pale man stalked over to her. “Oh yes? And wh-wh-who would that b-be?” He mimicked sarcastically. He leaned over her, stroking her hair. “Well!” He boomed. She jumped and dropped all of her papers on the floor. “Who is it? Or are we playing guess who the next pitch man is, today?” He slapped the table again, glaring around the room. “What are you all waiting for, you bunch of dress shop dummies? Bring him in!” The flunky’s sat motionless. “NOW!” The pale man screamed.

    One of the men at the table pressed an intercom in front of him. “Marge? W--w--would y-you-you s-show in our first--our first pitch man?” The girl recovered her composure. “I think you’ll like this man, sir. His ideas seem very cutting edge, first rate. I met him at the disco last night. He had ideas that neither Spelling,Weinberger or Gelbart ever even dreamed of!” She gushed. “With his ideas, we can take American television into the eighties and beyond. Who knows? Maybe even capture a ninety-percent household share!” He rolled his reptilian gaze at her. “Oh, yeah?” He sneered. “Well I’ll believe it when I see it.” He waved his hand in the air. “Where is this wonder-boy of yours?”

    Just then, the double doors bust open. The producer turned and looked askance at the man who’d just bounded into the room. He was very tall, with dark curly hair, big teeth and wide expansive eyes. He had on a floppy hat, a long multicoloured scarf and a corduroy jacket and pants. Without ceremony, the man flung himself into an easy chair in a corner of the room. He pulled out a bag from his pocket and held it up. “Hullo! Would anyone care for a jelly baby?” He asked, smiling broadly.

    And, as I always try to reaffirm, at the end of each story, Dr Who is copyright of the BBC.

  • Local Band going to Lallapalooza Festival

    I've a co-worker who's turned me on to this band. They're out of the Albany, NY area, fifty miles away, but play up here, from time to time. They've been slated to be one of the opening acts for the huge Lallapalooza concert in Illinois. They're not half bad, for a two-person band. Sirsy:

  • The Old Barn

    To this day, I can remember the smell of that old barn. It was a deep musty, slightly spicy-piney smell. Sort of a cross between a damp old cellar, and a can of pine-scented air freshener.

    The big green and white barn complex was built in the Victorian era, part of the vast Sage family estate in my village--Russell Sage being a prominent American industrialist, way back then. He's got a women's college named after him, in Troy, NY.

    Anyway, the old barn was not your typical American barn. this one had a long shed row, with stalls for the draft horses and polo ponies. (Carriage horses were kept at the carriage house, which was further away, adjacent to the "field next door" to our house.) There were also about a half-dozen cattle stanctions in there, as well. There was a garage, next to the stables, with an overhead apartment above, that had a wide outdoor porch on the roof of the garage. Attacted to this was the "water tower." The water tower was a two story "tower," that had a well with a trap door below, and a set of stairs which led to a mysterious small upstairs room--what that room was for, us kids had our speculations about, but I'm sure the true reason was much more mundane than our thoughts conjured up.

    Attatched to the water tower was a big granary building--scary to go in, because it had an elevated wood floor, that was raised a few feet above the door--with a deep and dark cellar, below. One slip----.

    I walked by this spot all the time, with the dogs. Us kids used to sneak into these places, from time to time--but quite honestly, we found them a bit scary, even the bravest of us (and I was scared--the first time I climbed the stairs to the tower's "mystery room," marked the very first time my knees actually shook. I think I was about 10 or 11, back then.

    As a pre-teen, I used to daydream that this was my stables, and all the fields were where I kept my horses. Interestingly enough--this barn was painted in the same colors as the stables at famous Saratoga Race Course (the thoroughbred track, not the harness track), and I often wondered if that was deliberate, or just coincidence. But knowing how posh Saratoga was/is, I lean towards the deliberate.

    As a teen, I used to daydream of winning the lottery, and buying the old barn and surrounding fields, and turning it in to a horse farm. Silly, huh?

    The old barn's gone now. Torn down in the mid-1980's...but I swear, I can still smell that musty-pine scented odour.

    THE OLD BARN, AND MY DOGS, HAPPY AND SHAMROCK. PROBABLY 1976 OR 77.

  • What do my tastes in music say about me?

    Here's what your music says about your personality! Your music preferences have been broken down into four categories.

    98 % enjoys reflective and complex music
    4 % enjoys edgy and aggressive music
    33 % enjoys fun and simple music
    12 % enjoys energetic and upbeat music

    Reflective & Complex

    People high on this dimension tend to enjoy Classical, Blues, Jazz, and Folk music. On the Reflective & Complex Dimension you fell in the 98 percentile. This score is very high.
    98 % 98%

    Based on your responses, you scored above average on the reflective and complex music-preference dimension. Research in our laboratory indicates that people high on this dimension, like you, often have the following characteristics:

    People with high scores on the reflective and complex music-preference dimension tend to be open to new experiences, creative, intellectual, and enjoy trying new things. When it comes to politics, they tend to lean toward the liberal side. Wisdom, diversity, and fine arts are all important to them. When it comes to lifestyle, high scorers tend to be sophisticated, and relatively well off financially. After a hard day of work, if they're not listening to music or reading a book, they enjoy documentary films, independent, classic, or foreign films.

    MEH--PRETTY ACCURATE, THO' I'M NOT MUCH INTO INDY OR FOREIGN FILMS, REALLY. SOPHISTICATED??? MOI??? NOT BLINKING LIKELY!!! WELL OFF FINANCIALLY??? DREAM ON!!! (SHE LAUGHS HYSTERICALLY) MAYBE IN A PREVIOUS INCARNATION PERHAPS... 88|

    Fun & Simple

    People high on this dimension tend to enjoy Pop, Religious, Country, and Soundtrack music. On the Fun & Simple Dimension you fell in the 33 percentile. This score is quite low.
    33 % 33%

    Based on your responses, you scored below average on the fun and simple music-preference dimension. Research in our laboratory indicates that people low on this dimension, like you, often have the following characteristics:

    People with low scores on the fun and simple music-preference dimension tend to introverted, unconventional, and artistic. When it comes to morals and values, chances are that they lean toward the liberal side, and consider beauty and inner harmony important principles in life. When selecting a movie to watch, they prefer suspense movies, cult movies, or foreign films.

    CULT MOVIES?? NOPE. NOT MY STYLE! BEAUTY AND INNER HARMONY?? GET OUT! AND WHAT'S WITH THE FOREIGN FILMS--I'VE SEEN TWO, OKAY? TWO, IN MY ENTIRE LIFETIME! "THE COLOR OF PARADISE" AND "THE CLOSET" (DON'T COUNT UK FILMS)

    Energetic & Upbeat

    People high on this dimension tend to enjoy Hip-hop, Rap, Funk, Soul, and Electronic music. On the Energetic & Upbeat Dimension you fell in the 12 percentile. This score is very low.
    12 % 12%

    Based on your responses, you scored below average on the energetic and upbeat music-preference dimension. Research in our laboratory indicates that people low on this dimension, like you, often have the following characteristics:

    People with low scores on the energetic and upbeat music-preference dimension tend to be introverted, less assertive than the average person, and detail oriented. As for politics and values, they tend to lean to the conservative side, and value intellect, ambition, and high art. When it comes to lifestyle, low scorers on the energetic and upbeat dimension often come from the middle and upper classes. When they're not reading, they're probably watching a romance movie, classic film, or western movie.

    LINK TO THIS QUIZ: WHAT DO YOU MUSIC TASTES SAY ABOUT YOU?

    http://www.outofservice.com/music-personality-test/

  • When Two Friends Meet...

    HAPPY MEMORIES DEPARTMENT: Me, making friends with one of the lovely Friesian horses, near Haag in Friesland, Netherlands, June 2001.

  • Bush Says no Shortage of Troops on the Ground

    US Pres. George W. Bush says there's no troop shortage. He points to recent recruitment efforts in the land of Oz, as a sure sign of success.

  • David Tennant is the New Kojak

    Here's an on-set photo of David Tennant preparing for his latest role, in the TV cop movie: Son of Kojak. The original actor who played the role, Telly Savalas, was famous for sucking on his trademark lolliepop. The Scots-born actor Tenant, won't be using a lolly, but instead will be sucking on a mini-haggis.

  • Okay, I'm back--for now. Stupid blog.

    Gah---computers make me feel old and stupid!

    I never even noticed the "my blog" button on the right! It's virtually invisible! (my eyesight's going a tiny bit).

    I'm going to give the new design a two-week trial run. If I still find it awkward, then I'll be off finding a new blog site...or maybe just stop this blogging stuff.

    I really, really hate dealing with computers. I hate feeling like an idiot, and I hate having to deal with trivial changes when I've got so much more serious stuff on my plate to deal with.

    The light blue is much harder for me to see than the old site, but the young guys who run this blog don't take vision impariments into account, I suppose.

  • Autumn in New York

    PHOTO: Glens Falls Mountain Road, Lake Luzerne, NY October 2004 (Music by Billie Holiday)

    While driving back up the mountain road, coming back from the city of Glens Falls, I just had to stop the car and snap this pic--I loved the contrast: the near-darkness of shadowy road in late afternoon, making the brilliance of the maple's blazing colours all that more spectacular.

  • Slow Curves

    I had to take some black and white photos for my one and only art class in college. I've only two left, of the dozen or so photos I shot. This was taken at a local antique car show.

    This I called, "Slow Curves." It was part of a three-picture series that I did, of vintage gas (petrol) related objects.

    For this, and many of the 2004/05 pics, I was using a Kodak 35mm EasyLoad camera, with auto-focus. It was a great camera for a total newbie like me--I know precious little about photography, I'm afraid. I believe I used 400 speed film, for this pic, as I recall.

  • David Tennant Threatens to Quit Dr Who!

    Here we see actor David Tennant's (Doctor Who) rather strong reaction, upon being told that his present Series Four companions, Freema Agyeman and Catherine Tate, were being replaced by Posh and Beck.

  • My First Re-hearse-al

    Okay, bad joke. That's a real herse, but not a real horse, by the way.

    What this is, I'd gotten one year, back in the mid-1980's, a really great tax refund. So, I treated mum and myself to a weekend in the the Adirondacks (I wasn't living up here, back then). On that particular Saturday, I'd got back from a morning trail ride at Bailey's Horses, and mum said the people that ran the rental cabins had given her some coupons--one for some money off admission to a local Amusement park--Gaslight Village.

    Anyway, not bothering to change out of my riding gear, off we went. And we enjoyed a relaxing afternoon.

    But, that's why I'm sitting on a hearse, drawn by a fine dapple gray (fiberglass) horse, wearing a cowboy hat. By the way, while you can't actually see it in the photo (you can barely see me), that's a Doctor Who Fan Club of America tee shirt I've got on, as well. Long live the Doctor! :))

  • Quiz Results: If My Life Was a Movie...

    The Movie Of Your Life Is A Black Comedy

    In your life, things are so twisted that you just have to laugh.
    You may end up insane, but you'll have fun on the way to the asylum.

    Your best movie matches: Being John Malkovich, The Royal Tenenbaums, American Psycho

    LINK TO QUIZ:

    http://www.blogthings.com/ifyourlifewasamoviewhatgenrewoulditbequiz/

  • Be Careful Where You Chose to Sit

  • Dr Who Captions for Sunday


    "I'm rehearsing for the next scene--not to give the plot away, but in this scene the Doctor saves the earth using nothing but a ball of string and some ear wax. Russell wrote this script after watching an episode of McGyver."


    "Yes, yes, that was my fart--and a good one too, don't you think?"


    "No, David, somehow I don't think the Doctor tap dancing after defeating the monster, is going to work."

  • The Field "Next Door"

    I guess one of my favourite places, growing up--even into my teen years, was the field next to our home.

    I have memories of that place that go back to when I was about seven or eight years old. I think one of my earliest memories, was of the time before the owners decided to keep the grass cut. The field used to be filled with tall grass, like a hay field gone mad. I have the clear recollection of playing hide-and-seek with my sister and some of the other kids from our street, in there. I had this little trick I'd even developed. I'd lay there, flat on my back in the grass--but I'd leave clusters of standing grass between my legs, and pull up hand fulls of tall stems, holding them upright in my fists, upon my chest...sometimes it actually worked, too.

    The field had enough of a slope, that, after the owners got a tractor and a brush hog, and began mowing the grass, instead of hide-and-seek, we'd roll ourselves down the wee gentle slope, instead.

    There were a few ancient apple trees, bordering the field. These were our special delight. Besides those delicious wild apples we'd pick in the fall, those old apple trees, with their silver bark, streaked black with fungus, were a joy to climb--even me, who was a total klutz, could climb them. We could sit out on the branches, swinging our legs back and forth, telling tales, shooting the breeze, challenging each other to see who'd climb the highest.

    In winter, the field became our number one place for sledding. We had others, but the field next door had the longest slope--tho' hardly the steepest, so that was the main place of choice, for us to take our sleds and fly like the wind--hopefully stopping before we hit the tree line, ha-ha. There were several bumps and dips--and it was especially a delight, to hit a dip while going really fast--because for just a split second, one would become airborne.

    There was a dip at the end of the field, near the trees. Sometimes, of a winter, we'd have a quick thaw with rain, and an enormous puddle would form--then freeze, about 10 to 15 feet long, and about 6 or 8 feet wide. That was then our impromptu ice skating rink. The snow-filled field was also a handy source, in winter, for building snowmen and snow forts. We had a goodly share of snowball fights there.

    When I was a teen, the field next door took on an entirely different significance to me.

    It became a magical place, at times. In early summer, I'd wake before dawn, and go out bare foot, through the dew-soaked grass, and watch the sun come up. Stand there with the bottoms of my jeans soaking wet, my feet wriggling in the sparkling green grass. I'd watch the miracle of the ever-changing rainbow skies of dawn, listen to the crickets, the first sleepy chirp of a robin--followed by the soft cooing of a mourning dove. Then, the sky over the distant hills would be set ablaze, and all the birds would sing the Hallelujah Chorus.

    On a sharply frigid winter's night, I'd stand in the snow, in the centre of the field, and gaze at stars that seemed so close, yet so distant. Stand in the cold blue moonlight, gazing at the shadows of the pines and maple trees, their long black fingers a contrast to the blue-tinted snowfield, glowing under a full moon. Seeing in the blue-white moonlight, the barren hills across the river, feeling the utter stillness of the winter night.

    On the northern border of the field, one could still see the old farm fence--a relic of a by-gone era, dating back to the turn of the century. This part of the field was filled with trees--maple, oak, ash, etc...and in autumn--it became nature's tapestry, a artists palate, a riot of colour from the artist known as Mother Nature.

    Now, in my middle age, sometimes it feels like this was another world, as if I'd only dreamed it. Something that was there everyday, but so long ago, as to now seem unreal. So much joy I'd taken for granted--and now vanished forever, except in memory.

    THE FIELD "NEXT DOOR," OCTOBER 1977 (Northern border)

  • Buddy

    One of my favourite lesson horses of all time was "Buddy"--short for Budwiser, a draft-quarter horse cross.

    Buddy was a do-anything horse: he was patient and kind, and never turned a hair at any situation--he was rock-solid dependable...and his gaits weren't half-bad, either. He could be used for hunt-seat, and wasn't a half-bad jumper, and, he was a great western pleasure (stock-seat) horse. Buddy could even load into the back of a pick-up truck, and ride home without a fuss. Quite a guy, Buddy was.

    I used to ride buddy a lot, as he was the barn's only western mount--the stable was strictly hunt seat/jumpers. In order to ride buddy, I had to talk my parents into buying me a cheap western saddle for Christmas one year. I think they paid 75 dollars--which even then was fairly reasonable, even for a used saddle. I loved that saddle--for me, it was the next best thing to having my own horse, owning my own saddle. I was very fond of it--polished that sucker until I could practically see my face in the smooth, brown leather seat. It wasn't fancy--just an old mail-order ranch saddle, such as might come from Montgomery Wards or Sears-Roebuck (yes, these department stores use to sell tack and farm equipment).

    Like my saddle, Buddy wasn't pretty. He was cute, in his sometimes bemused or exasperated expressions--which can be a bit disconcerting when you are the one riding the horse at the time. Like my saddle, Buddy was a utilitarian horse. A good all-round mover, not posh, just...good.

    In order to ride buddy more often, I worked weeknights and Saturdays, mucking stalls at the stable--which was conveniently 1 mile up the road from our street. I worked for 15 dollars a week, and two half-hour lessons. I also polished tack, hayed and watered--and gladly. I learned a lot from that time with Buddy: Patience, kindness, and the value of persistence.

    Buddy's long gone, of course, but I will always remember him fondly.

    Here's a picture of me riding him, back int the winter of 1976, when I was 15 years old.

  • Dr Who: Time Lords Don't Cry--Final Chapter

    Well, only one person responded to my reader poll, where I asked anyone reading the story, to decide whether the ending will remain happy, or be sad. I had all of one response--but one reader is better than none, and I thank this person for the imput. This chapter is where the story drastically deviates--partly anyhow--from the original chapter ( http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=7193&chapter=19 ). But...not giving away the ending, sorry. N. (playwrite27)

    Doctor Who: Time Lord's Don't Cry

    CHAPTER 19: Time Lord's Do Cry

    Marie came up behind the Doctor and looked at the view screen. She gasped, “That’s Mr. Phillps, who owns the hardware store! And there’s old Mr. and Mrs. Gordon, and Mr.Orsini the grocer...why, half the town must be out there!” After a long pause, she looked at the Doctor’s face somberly. “Does that mean they’re all dead, Doctor?” The Doctor’s hands balled into fists. He sighed heavily, bowed his head and said, “Yes. I’m afraid so.” He looked at her, his face a mirror of almost unworldly grimness. “But there’ll be many, many more deaths--the entire planet, if I don’t stop this, right here, right now." He declared firmly.

    Ducking under the console, the Doctor once more continued to fiddle with some of the wiring and other components. “Now, if I can just get this one setting properly calibrated, then your dear old uncle may be in for a bit of a jolt.” With a small yell of triumph he jumped up back to the console and pushed one last button. Grinning like a little kid, he said to Marie “Ha! There! That oughta’ fix his wagon, as you Americans would say.” Marie turned a puzzled stare on him. “What did you do?” The Doctor merely gave her a lopsided grin, tapped the side of his nose and said, ‘Wait and see, sweetheart, wait and see...”

    Minutes later, the Doctor was standing outside the Tardis, trying to buy some time. In the pre-dawn darkness, he stood in granite-like silence. Silhouetted by the light of the Tardis' open door, he was wearing his long coat, standing defiantly. The coat billowed out behind him in the sharp bitter wind, swirling snowflakes gathering on the shoulders, and his bare head. The Doctor had told Marie, "I performed a little trick with one of the Tardis’ relay circuits. It should work, but the circuit in question needs charging, and that will take a few extra minutes." Minutes he wasn’t entirely sure that he had, he mused as he stood there, hands in his coat pockets, facing the Droom leader and his new-found army of animated corpses.

    “I am the Droom. You will be assimilated.” The figure in the armor boomed. The snow was falling heavily now, and it swirled around the human cadavers as they began marching towards the Doctor. The Doctor was finding this threat rather tiresome. “Oh yeah? So you keep saying.” He began pacing, angrily. “What if I don’t want to be assimilated, eh? What if I’m perfectly happy just as I am?” “You will be assimilated.” the grating voice said, “The Droom will survive. We cannot be conquered. You cannot resist.” The Doctor heaved a sigh. “Oh, blah-blah-blah. You lot are very single minded, you know that? I've had more interesting conversations with Labour ministers and dustbin robots, than with you lot. Blah-blah-blah.” he leaned forward, “I imagine that’s because you’re stupid. No imagination at all. Just push on ahead, regardless of the consequences. You want what you want and to heck with everyone and everything else in the universe. You really are pathetic,” he said scornfully, “and what’s more, you can’t possibly win. So why don’t you just call it quits, and go back where you came from, eh?”

    In answer, Uncle Tobias roared, and made a clanking charge towards the Doctor. “You WILL be assimilated! I shall assimilate you now, Time Lord." The Doctor merely stood still, with his arms crossed and looking rather tired. "No second chances." he murmured. He hoped that Marie would remember what he'd told her to do. Pulling out a pair of sunglasses, he slipped them on. The Doctor was surrounded on all sides by the ghastly walking cadavers. Uncle Tobias was just a few meters from the Doctor, armor gloved hands reaching for the Doctor's neck. Suddenly, the Doctor yelled, "NOW, Marie!"

    A wide, blinding beam of white light shot out from all sides of the Tardis, emanating from the light atop her roof. It illuminated not only the surrounding forest, but the whole of the little mountain valley. Shrieks arose from the walking dead, and they collapsed all at once. At first, the Sovereign seemed immune. But then, slowly by inches, his armor began to crack and fissures began to open. With a mighty roar, the Droom leader collapsed in a heap, lifeless.

    A short while later, the Doctor returned to the Tardis. Marie came up to him, her young face creased with worry. Pulling on the sleeve of his coat, she asked, “Are you alright Doctor? What did you do? Will they come back?” He looked down at her and shook his head. "No. What I did, was I adjusted one of the Tardis’ relay circuits, and re-directed some of her energy into a focused ultra-violet beam. Not even an armored Droom could handle light of that intensity.”

    He saw that Marie still looked upset. The Doctor knelt down by her, saying “It’s alright, Marie. He’s gone and he’s not coming back.” She shook her head, sadly. “But neither are the others, are they? They’re all dead.” She looked up at him, with a bit of fear in her eyes. “Doctor, what’s going to happen to me?”

    The Doctor took her by the hand, saying gently, "Come on, Marie, I want to show you something." He lead her to the Tardis monitor. "Have a look at this." She stared at the screen. It showed that same scene that came through the still-partly open Tardis door: Swilling snow, falling in a greying sky, turning the woods and the glade into a world of gingerbread icing. It was nearly dawn. "I can take you here," he said quietly, "just the two of us, together, just us two Prydonians. A Son and a Daughter of Rassilon." The Doctor flicked a button and the scene on the Tardis screen changed: A live picture from far out in the universe.

    A fantastic shape of light, dancing in the darkness of deep space. It had at its centre, an eye of bright static-electric blue, projecting out from that was a bright orange phosphorescence, spiraling outward to a point at both ends, reminding Marie of a seashell. Surrounding all this was a bright halo of white light. It was the most awesome thing she'd ever seen in her entire young life.

    Marie, eyes shining with wonder, was about to ask the Doctor what it was, when she caught a movement from the doorway. "Doctor! Look out!" She cried, pushing the Doctor aside, as Uncle Tobias charged across the control room, intent on murdering the Doctor.

    The Doctor fell against the conole. "Mare! No! Don't!" He yelled. But it was too late. Uncle Tobias smashed Marie aside like she was a rag doll. "No!" The Doctor screamed again, he face a mask of horror. Frantically, he stabbed a button on the console--the light in the control room intensified. The Droom leader roared in pain, the cracks in his armor widening even more. Even so, he grabbed the Doctor by the neck and began to literally squeeze the very life out of him.

    Choking, his vision going dim, the Doctor managed get hold of his sonic screwdriver. Gasping for air that no longer entered his body, the Doctor pointed the screwdriver at a fissure in the Droom's armor. Pressing down, the tip glowed blue and the device gave a strong hum. Abruptly, the Droom leader released the Doctor. Crying out in pain, the armored figure clutched its head. It fell to the control room floor, writhing in agony. Gasping in great lung fulls of air, the Doctor stood over Uncle Tobias, watching dispassionately. The thing that was Tobias, slowly disintegrated into dust.

    Running, the Doctor flung himself down beside Marie's still body. His anxious eyes showing hope, he felt for a pulse. Slowly his face crumbled. Gathering Marie into his arms, he wept silently.

    In the cold, still, wintry dawn, the Doctor stood in the forest glade. In front of him were two fresh graves. Using his sonic screwdriver, he'd written on two small slabs of granite: 'Chauncey--Marie's friend.' And on the Other: 'Marie--friend of the Doctor, A Daughter of Rassillon."

    As always, Doctor Who is copyright of the BBC, and absolutely no infringement is intended.

  • Autumn in Washington County

    Here's a late-autumn photo I snapped, on a nice dead-end country road in Fort Ann, NY. I snapped a number of pics along this roadway, as it's very scenic and picturesque, with sweeping views of mountain and valley, farm and field, at nearly every bend of the road. It's getting more developed, but the end of the roadway does border a wilderness area. (YES. New York state has wilderness-loads of it.)

    The mountains in the background tower over the southern shores of Lake George.

    Sorry about how some of these pics turned out--that's just the way my co-worker scanned them, and I haven't a clue how to make images larger or crop or stuff--I did take a class in photoshop in college, and was the bane of my professor's existance--I'm rubbish at photoshop!

  • Not Stalking David Tennant? At Last! Someone I can relate to!

    Apparently there's a new play by this title. I've finally found a soul-mate. Someone else in this barren dessert of life that doesn't drool and wet herself at the very mention of the Sacred Name. Yipeee!!!! :>>

    And before you flippin' fangirls get all over my case, I don't not like Mr Tennant--he's fine...just another guy, to me. It's not that I think he's ugly or a geek, he's...he's..just too...young, for me dearies. :zz:

    Not Stalking David Tennant
    Etcetera Theatre | 020 7482 4857 | 265 Camden High Street, London, NW1 7BU

    Cost Please see website
    Company Emma Hutchins
    Website website
    Tags Theatre, ComedyTheatre, Fringe
    logo

    Emma Hutchins Presents
    Not Stalking David Tennant

    Four women. Four Stories. One Goal.
    Helen - Successful - Independent -Lost. Jen - Gorgeous - Narcissistic - Deluded. Isabel - Welcoming - Frustrated - Dangerous. Louise - Warm - Confused - Lonely.

    Money, career, family, looks, love! You can’t have it all, can you?

    NOT Stalking David Tennant is a one-woman show exploring the modern obsession with ‘having it all’ and how it can lead us to taint the beauty of the things we do possess.

    * Sat 18 Aug 2007, 7:30pm (8:30pm) Etcetera Theatre
    * Sun 19 Aug 2007, 7:30pm (8:30pm) Etcetera Theatre
    * Mon 20 Aug 2007, 7:30pm (8:30pm) Etcetera Theatre
    * Tue 21 Aug 2007, 7:30pm (8:30pm) Etcetera Theatre
    * Wed 22 Aug 2007, 7:30pm (8:30pm) Etcetera Theatre
    * Thu 23 Aug 2007, 7:30pm (8:30pm) Etcetera Theatre
    Not Stalking David Tennant venues & dates
    logo Etcetera Theatre
    265 Camden High Street, London, NW1 7BU
    (t) 020 7482 4857 (f) 020 7482 0378 (w) website 19:00 18/08/07 to 23/08/07

    We don't have much in the way of theater here--and what we have is way over my head, financially, to even consider going to. You folks in the UK are soooo---lucky! There's a pro-theater literally just five blocks away, downtown--currently the venue is the Adirondack Theater Festival--but..not on my income level. Not unless I give up eating for 2 days, anyway. :roll: Our theater is pretty much strictly for the yuppies and posh retirees--unless you go to a high school programme, which may or may not be rubbish, luck of the draw, and is nearly always some tired old musical, that everyone else has done, a million times over, already.

    I haven't been to REAL theater since 2004. Miss it sorely. Oh well, that's life, ey?

  • One Cool Cat!

    Here's one last pic for today. This is Boots, when he was about 8 months old, taken in our caravan in the summer of 2001. It was about 30 C in there that day (metal roof + hot sun= one very hot trailer), and Boots basically passed out on top of the fan.

  • Fall Foliage in the Adirondacks NY

    Here's a pic I took, in 2004, of the fall foliage at Mill Park in Lake Luzerne, NY.

  • Me and Mum

    Here's the first of my pics. I've 28 that were put on CD for me, so I'm obviously going to be posting photos for at least a few weeks.

    The first two:

    This is mum, taken on the day I graduated from my 2-year college, in May of 2003. She was doing dialysis then, and you can see the tape on her shoulder that was where her tubes were attached to her. She was doing reasonably well when this photo was taken, and I was just bursting with joy, that day, to know that mum was FINALLY going to see me graduate college--with honours. (I flunked out the first try, at age 19).

    This pic was taken about a mile up the road from our caravan, at one of the town beaches, in Lake Luzerne, NY.

    As I'm typing this, I'm still waiting..and waiting...and waiting, for my computer to upload the files to photobucket--we could be here a while... :)

    Anyway, the second pic is of me at age 12 or 13. My dad had a friend who's daughter was showing her quarter horse, so he took me to this show, somewhere in western New York. There, his friend introduced my dad to this cowboy, who was boarding his big black horse and fancy silver studded saddle at that stable where the show was being held. I have to admit, this horse-loving kid basically drooled over this beautiful horse and it's fancy rig. I guess the cowboy must have noticed, because he told my dad that I could take the horse for a quick ride around the grounds, if I wanted--and dad, bless him, had his camera with him. One of most treasured moments, as a kid--I loved cowboys, I loved horses--well...I imagine it was sort of like a young Dr Who fan getting to touch the real Tardis, I suppose. I was in seventh heaven--and scared a little, too--that was one biiiggg horse! :))

  • Do you KNOW it's Saturday?!!?

    Reckon I'll be hearing that a lot today. Gosh knows I hear it often enough on Sundays. Six hours of telemarketing (she groans loudly and painfully)! I HATE my job! Okay, it pays better and is in fact, much better, than cleaning loos and carting about nasty full bin bags and being treated like your worthless rubbish yourself--okay, still being treated that way--but, I get to sit down and work, and--stay clean--and I do get paid 9 dollars an hour (4 pounds 50p) which is the most I've ever made in my 30 some-odd years of employment...still telemarketing really makes you feel like rubbish. People are so horrendously mean to you--well, they can get away with it, can't they? They don't know you, they can't see you--so my fellow Americans think it's okay to treat us like filth. And, oh yes, they do.

    I've dealt with meanness for most of my 40-some-odd years...and God, I'm getting so weary of it all. For the rare few people that are nice to me--dozens more are mean. I don't know if it's my looks, or my body language, or maybe I'm a jerk when I talk, or because I'm a bit...slow, sometimes, but I'm just a walking bullseye. People love making fun of me and being mean to me. I think that's why I've always been alone so much...it's just easier, isn't it? When I was out in the woods and fields, I could just be myself, no worries about being made fun of, or worse. You get tired of hurting, constantly. Giving a choice between being lonely, or being hurt, I just naturally chose lonely. Lonely is okay. Hurt is not--I'd ten times rather be lonely, than be made to feel like absolute rubbish, hands down, no contest.

    Another thing that hurts--and even the other day, I experienced this, is being ignored--being made invisible. I hate feeling invisible. So often, I talk--and no one listens. It's often like I'd not said anything at all. People just look at me--through me, and just continue on with what they're doing, like I wasn't even there. That is a terrible feeling. I treasure--no really, I genuinely treasure, a nice conversation. I have so few of them...and, I so often feel awkward about it. Why is it, I can stand in front of dozens--even hundreds, of people and give a presentation, do the tour guide thing, say a speech, recite a poem, or even act (well, very badly act), and not turn a hair...but casual conversation makes me nervous as hell? Sometimes even makes me feel like an idiot, afterwards. No clue.

    So I'm off at twenty to nine, this morning, to this wonderful city's one and only modern skyscraper--wow, all of ten floors--for six hours of slogging through phone scripts, talking to people from coast to coast, trying to sell them things they don't want, for a clubs most of them loathe and hate, or have barely even joined and haven't a clue what it's about--or, in the case of some, simply haven't a clue--oh yes, I do get people, they've paid money for a membership, but don't even remember doing it.

    Must be nice to be able to throw away money like that. I get people, they get all these magazines coming to their homes--over 100 dollars they've spent I'm guessing for these subscriptions, and they tell me they don't even read them--or even know what half of them are about! WTF? Why buy something you don't read--so the neighbours will think you're literate? Ha! Now I truly know Bush got elected! Idiots.

  • Exclusive! David Tennant Goes Bonkers on Set of Who!

    These exclusive pics of David Tennnat, only seen here on Playwrite27's blog, show actor David (Dr Who) Tennant going mad, while filming Dr Who:


    CCTV cameras caught this pic of Tennant running around set with his sonic screwdriver and a pair of rubber gloves, offering to examine the prostates of male crew members.


    After Tennant snapped out of it, he was so mortified, he spent the rest of the day with his head stuck inside the Tardis' telephone receptacle, and refused to come out.

  • Dr Who: Time Lords Don't Cry

    Doctor Who: Time Lords Don't Cry, by N. (Playwrite27)

    CHAPTER 17: Home Sweet Home

    Clambering out of the truck, the Doctor headed off to the east, in search of his beloved Tardis. He stopped short when Marie gave a yank on his sweater. The Doctor looked down at her. "What?" Marie pointed north, and the Doctor shrugged, "I never was much good with a compass. I was the bane of my Galifreyan boy scout leader. But," he scratched the back of his neck and grinned, "I can tie one heckuva' knot though. This way then, is it?." With that, the Doctor strode off towards the meadow, walking into the wind, amid billowing dried up leaves and a few hesitant flakes of snow.

    The wind snatched at their clothing, sending chilling fingers of cold air creeping up their spines. The Doctor unlocked the door and led Marie inside. Without ado, he dashed up to the console and consulted the computer screen. Marie stared about the room, silently looking the place over from roof to floor. He looked up at her, grinning from ear to ear. “What do you think of her, eh?” Marie was wonder struck. “This is so cool! I mean, it's just so...wow." She walked up to the Doctor, staring in complete fascination at the Tardis's console, with it's great column in the centre. She laughed and said, "Oh, Man! This is amazing! And you fly around in this all the time? That's just--so...cool! But, Doctor, why's it bigger on the inside?"

    The Doctor chuckled, and hugged her. "Long story. “Tell you what? Why don’t you have a seat and make yourself at home while I go and change?" Marie saw a bulge under his sweater, and pointing at it, asked, "What's that?" The Doctor smacked his forehead. "I am getting absent minded in my old age! I nearly forgot. I’d found something of yours back at the farm. held it out to her. “Here, I believe this belongs to you.”

    Marie took the object from the Doctor. It was one of her mother’s teacups. Grasping it in her hands, she stared at it. Marie's composure slipped: her lip began to tremble and she seemed about to cry. The Doctor knelt down and said consolingly, “I’m sorry. It’s the only one I could find.” Marie stared at the cup in her hands, rubbing it with her fingers as if it were a genie’s lamp that could make her mother magically appear. Then, throwing her arms around the Doctor, she cried. He patted her back awkwardly, saying “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry all this had to happen to you.” A few minutes later, the Doctor brought out a warm blanket and, smiling a little sadly, put it around Marie. She was curled up on the control room chair. Completely worn out, and had cried herself to sleep. "Ah, Rassillon. I don't know what you were playing at," he whispered aloud, "but you've got one heck of a terrific granddaughter."

    Once again standing at the console, the Doctor was looking---and feeling, more like his old self than ever. Dressed in his usual garb of a brown suit over multiple layers of shirts and his trusty trainers, the Doctor silently hovered around the console, pushing buttons and studying readouts. “Ah, yes. He whsipered, “Now I have you. I thought as much. The Fumerick system..that explains the suit of armor, then.” Donning his glasses, the Doctor bent over the console and studied a particularly interesting readout. Taking the glasses off, he tapped his hand with them and started pacing back and forth, deep in thought.

    The Doctor pulled off the decking panel and was working underneath the console. He dropped his sonic screwdriver with a loud clang, waking Marie. She slipped out from under the blanket and went over by the Doctor, sitting beside him. The Doctor glanced up at her, holding a pair of wires in his teeth. "Sorith 'bouth thath." Marie tilted her head at him, "What?" The Doctor removed the wires, and was busily connecting them together. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to wake you."

    Marie glanced curiously at the Doctor. "S'okay, Doctor. What are you doing? Something to stop Uncle Tobias--I mean this Droom thing, from killing things?" The Doctor nodded, and, talking as he worked said, “The Droom come from the Fumerick system. That’s in one of the darkest parts of the galaxy. The sun is so distant from the planet, it’s in near total darkness all the time. The Droom are light-sensitive creatures. Any kind of bright light causes them pain. UV rays are especially dangerous to them. Too much exposure and they disintegrate. So, over the course of millions of years, the species developed ways to protect themselves. Very much like you humans.”

    Marie grimaced, not sure what the Doctor meant by that. The Doctor’s hand shot out and searched around for the sonic screwdriver. It was just out of reach. Marie got up and got it for him. The Doctor thanked her and continued, “Anyway, they developed a tough but lightweight armor that shields them completely from any harmful UV rays. It’s implanted into them when the eggs are fertilized. They grow into the armor as they develop. It’s a part of them. They can make it appear or disappear at will. The human hosts--your cafeteria lady and the others, don’t need it. But, the human bodies that the Droom take over, they alter genetically, to produce the armoured effect.

    Marie cocked her head, her young mind ingesting all she just heard. “So--you mean, the armor is sort of like sunscreen, and these human slaves--like Mrs McHenry, they don’t need it because they’re still human?” “That’s right.” The Doctor said. "Your dinner lady is nothing more than an animated corpse--kept alive through the energy projected by the Droom--energy gained by consuming the life force, bones and blood of living flesh." Marie shuddered and looked away. But the Doctor hadn't noticed.

    He emerged from beneath the console deck, and dashed over to the console, punching away at various buttons and dials. Suddenly, there was a big bang against the Tardis. Flipping on the view screen, the Doctor looked outside. Uncle Tobias had arrived, and he wasn’t alone. There were now about a hundred humans with him.

  • New Advert Campaign: Secure OJ?

  • Ready, steady, Cook!

    During the hot weather, or when I'm working a split shift and must have a late lunch, my slow cooker is a real blessing. Also, if it's not hot out, I will sometimes make a quick casserole in the morning, to re-heat for later.

    Here's some favourite slow cooker and casserole recipes:

    Roast Pork with Apricot sauce and Raisin Pilaf

    1 small boneless pork shoulder roast, approx. 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 pounds.
    1 18 oz jar apricot preserves
    1/4 cup chicken broth
    2 Tablespoons Dijon mustard (can sub. spicy brown mustard, for a bit more "kick")
    1 large sweet or yellow onion, chopped
    1 box rice pilaf
    1/2 cup seedless raisins (optional)

    Place meat in bottom of slow cooker. In a bowl, combine preserves with mustard, broth and onion. Pour over meat, and set cooker to low. Cover and cook for 8 to 12 hours. Remove meat to platter. Skim off any fat and pour desired amount of remaining sauce in cooker over meat. Before serving, prepare rice according to package directions, adding raisins when you stir in the pilaf seasoning packet, if desired, and cook as usual. Serve meat with rice and cooked young green peas or a tossed green salad. Serves 4 to 8 people.

    As a kid, this was my #2 favourtie dish for mum to make me (next only to her New England pot roast), she got this casserole from an old Campbell's Soup cookbook from the mid-1960's, and added to it, over the years:

    Yankee Noodle-Frankfurter Bake

    1 package hot dogs, sliced 1/2 inch
    1/2 package medium egg noodles
    1 can Campbell's tomato soup
    1 sm. can baby or regular peas, drained
    1 Tablespoon onion powder
    2 1/2 teaspoons prepared yellow mustard

    Cook noodles according to package directions, drain. Grease a large casserole dish, and pre-heat oven to 350 degrees (moderate oven). In a bowl, combine all ingredients, until well-blended. Pour into casserole and seal top with aluminum foil. Bake for 30 minutes, removing foil last 10 minutes. Serves 4 to 6.

  • David Tennant to Guest Star in New Reality Show

    Shown below are publicity photos from BBC One's most recent bid for viewers: Celebrity Co-ed Naked Bowling.

    Here we see actor David Tennant (Dr Who/Casanova/Learners) trying to knock down ten pins, in a bid to win 50p for his favourtie charity:

    David was playing against American heiress, celebrity and jailbird, Paris Hilton, shown below:

    Ms. Hilton was playing for one dollar, to be used to purchase a packet of nail files from the Dollar Store, to give to her fellow convicts--tho' Paris says she might use the money to buy herself some new fingernail polish.

  • A Visit from Homeland Security?

    Just minutes ago, I was out on the balcony, watering my flowers, when I saw this woman on the side porch below me. She flagged me down, said she was with national security something, something (I'm partly deaf in my right ear, and someone was using a grass trimmer nearby, so I couldn't hear her clearly at first) doing some kind of personnel investigation and asked it I knew someone named "William" something or other.

    Hmmm--reminds me of the time we had an international hit man, wanted by Interpol, hiding out in an apartment complex near our village school, when I was a teenager. You just never know, do you?

  • Cat Fight!!!

    I don't know what Flame has against poor Charlie, all of the sudden. She keeps going after him, for seemingly no reason.

    I mean, poor Bonnie Prince Charlie will be laying down, snoring away, and Flame will walk up to him, spit at him, and slap him upside the head with her paw. No reason. Poor Charlie.

    After, if I don't pay attention to his plight, he'll get up and wander around, mewling like a little baby--"She hit me!" So, now, I make it a point to give him sympathy right off--and yell at Flame.

    I mean, she never liked him much, but she never went out of her way to hurt him before, either.

    Sometimes, I think it's because he's lying on her blanket--it was supposed to be their blanket, to be shared by the three cats--but Flame somewhere decided that it was exclusively hers.

    Now, last night--just got to bed and was having the oddest dream--I was in some board room, there was this long table with chairs, and they were filled with Dr Who fans--all dressed up like the Master(s)--except that it was some kind of game they were playing, and one person dressed like the Master was really the Doctor, impersonating the Master--and people had to guess which fan was really playing the Doctor. Confused yet? Said it was an odd dream.... :))

    Anyway, how I woke up---grrrrr! Rowrrr! Hisssss! Spat! Flame was attacking Charlie underneath my bed. Oh yeah, I was lovin' that. I shooed Flame away and had to bend over and sooth Charlie's feelings, before going back to sleep. Stupid cats--sometimes I really have to remind myself, how much I love them. :**:

    POOR CHARLIE!

    BAD FLAMEY!

    By the way, for certain of my friends whom may be reading this, SUPPOSEDLY, the CD containing my personal photos will be ready on Saturday---maybe. For obvious reasons, I didn't put in a lot of family photos, but there's several of my late mum, and I found one of my nephew and me, at one of the local beaches, where it's taken from a bit of a distance, and you can't really see his face too clearly, so decided that would be okay--tho' I have reservations about publishing a pic of me in a swimsuit.

    Mostly, there's some pics of me, past and present, and pics of the area around where I grew up, and some of Egypt, and some local photos of fall foliage and stuff.

  • National Grid May Face Big Fine

    12th July, 2007

    Playwrite27 (N.)

    It was reported today, in northeastern New York state, that the state of New York is considering slapping National Grid with a large fine.

    This all stems from a massive power outage earlier this week, which National Grid is blaming on severe thunderstorms that blew through the area, knocking out power lines in several key locations.

    According to a National Grid spokeswoman, the company did a planned shut down of the power to a local city, to avoid having an overload to their system. The problem though, lies with the fact that no one at National Grid said a word to anyone about the planned outage.

    And that left leaders of the city of Troy, New York--the city directly effected by this power cut--both angry and concerned. Troy, located on the eastern banks of the Hudson River, just north of the capital city of Albany, has a population of 50,000--many of whom are elderly. The city has two hospitals and a large number of senior housing complexes. This occurred during a sweltering heat wave, with temperatures hovering around 90 F (32 C) accompanied with steamy tropical-like humidity.

    Despite not knowing about the planned outage, city leaders acted quickly, setting up cooling centres and working with local grocery store chain, Price Chopper, to provide ice and bottled water to those who needed it. Even so, the city's fire department and ambulance crews were kept busy, responding to medical emergencies at several of the senior complexes.

    The New York State Public Service Commission, which oversees utilities in the state, will be investigating the planned outage, and has not ruled out levying fines on National Grid, for not notifying city leaders of their intent. Local and state lawmakers are also looking into National Grid's policies, and promise to see that changes are made in regards to how planned power outages are handled by New York state power companies.

    Other parts of the area were shut down as well. On Tuesday, in the north country, a thunderstorm took out 13 power lines at the Spier Falls Dam on the Hudson River, in Moreau, NY, causing a low voltage situation, which can cause damage to home appliances and computer systems. National Grid reacted by shutting down power to parts of three counties: Saratoga, Washington and Warren. Power was cut to much of New York's north country, including parts of the cities of Saratoga Springs--a popular resort city of 26,000, in Saratoga County, and the City of Glens Falls-which has a population of 15,000, in Warren County, and the small city of Hudson Falls, in Washington County. Power was restored to most parts of this area fairly quickly.

    National Grid is defending these planned outages as a necessary evil, to prevent even worse outages. However, state and local authorities are taking a dim view of National Grid's procedures, saying there was a massive communications failure on the utility's part. National Grid took over operations in many parts of the state recently, buying out the former "local" power company, Niagara-Mohawk, which had served statewide customers for over 50 years. National Grid is based in the U.K.

    THE CITY OF TROY, NY

  • Dr Who: Time Lord's Don't Cry

    Doctor Who: Time Lords Don't Cry

    Chapter 17: Invasion

    The Doctor kept turning the key but the engine refused to turn over. The thing in the metal suit slowly clanked towards them. “Where’s my sonic screwdriver when I really need it?” The Doctor murmured sarcastically, “Oh, I know, back in the Tardis. Lovely.” Uncle Tobias slowly clanked over to the truck, and reached out a steel gloved hand, towards the driver’s side door.

    The Doctor looked at him through the driver's side window glass, and stuck his tongue out at the Droom leader. “Ha! It’s locked.” Uncle Tobias reacted by yanking the door off its hinges. The Doctor redoubled his efforts to start the truck. “Okay, maybe not a problem for you then.” Marie gripped the Doctor's arm fearfully.

    Just at that moment the engine sputtered to life. Laughing with relief, the Doctor shifted it into gear. “Big Ben this here’s the Rubber Duck,” he said, imitating an American trucker, “And we’re about to blow this this Popsicle stand, ten-four.” With that, the Doctor put the truck into gear, and floored the gas pedal. With a roar, they crashed out of the shed and sped off into the night, leaving Tobias well behind.

    Marie gave the Doctor directions to a logging road that would take them almost directly to the Tardis. The Doctor carefully steered the old truck down the rutted dirt track, rattling along in silence. Trees scraped the sides of the truck and the wind turned sharply colder, driving dead leaves and little twigs before it. Marie broke the silence. “You’re not from here, are you? I mean, not from earth.”

    The Doctor glanced at her sharply. “What makes you say that?” Marie shrugged. “I can feel it. That’s why the others don’t like me. I know stuff--can sense things. Like an oncoming storm.” The Doctor started. “And how do you know about me, eh?” He asked gently. Marie looked out the window, refusing to look at him. “You’re….different. Not human. Not totally, I mean. There’s something…” she groped for the right word, “I dunno’, umm---mystical? Something really…different, about you…I can sense it, inside me. It’s like you give off a sort of inner light--you just feel…special.”

    Not taking his eyes off the road, the Doctor reached over and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You know, I think that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.” He stole a quick glance at her, smiling. Tentatively she returned the smile. “And you’re not afraid of me, then?” He asked. Marie shook her head. The Doctor nodded. “Good. How close are we to my ship?” Marie frowned. “It’s hard to tell, in the dark. But I think we’re nearly there. Look for a huge elm tree that’s fallen over next to the road.”

    She fell silent again for a moment, than said, "You lost your hat." The Doctor frowned. "What?" Marie pointed at his bare head. "You need a comb, your hair's all mussy." The Doctor raised an eyebrow, saying ruefully, "Yes, I know, and it's brown. I wanted ginger, this time." He grinned, "Well, not really a hat person--at least not in this regeneration. Must've lost it when I fell back into the tunnel." After a short pause, Marie abruptly changed the subject: “Doctor? What happened to my uncle and the others?

    The Doctor saw the elm Marie had mentioned and stopped the truck. He hesitated a moment then said, “Marie. That’s not really your uncle. Not anymore. He died that night he went out hunting. I found his body down by the river. The thing that looks like your uncle is called a Droom.” He paused. “I know this may be hard to understand, but I need you to try, okay?” Biting her lip worriedly, Marie nodded. The Doctor sighed tiredly. “The Droom are really an ancient parasite--sort of like cosmic leeches. They come from the edge of the universe, been around since the dawn of time. They've been there for as long as there's been life, it seems--like your cockroaches here on earth."

    The Doctor looked through the glass, staring out into the blustery night. He said quietly, "First, the sovereign--that's the leader, finds a host, in this case your uncle. It takes on the appearance of the species it decides to invade. Then, it uses the bodies of other life forms as either a source of energy--food, or, they they become slave-corpses for the Droom invaders, like your Mrs. McHenry. The remaining population is absorbed by the Droom, and used as host bodies." “How many of them are there?” Marie asked. Shutting off the truck's headlights, the Doctor looked at her, his eyes darkly somber, and said, “Billions.”

  • Quick health update:

    Well, I was toying with going back to the ER again, tonight. Was bad late this afternoon and into the evening again--but feeling mysteriously better, now.

    It's strange, I felt very tired today, yes--but the surgeon told me it might take weeks for me to recover completely, possibly months. And, of course, there was that tropical steamy hot weather of the last week, that only just broke last night. That kind of heat just saps the strength from you, if you're not used to it--and I'm not. I'm a cold-weather person, always have been. I can handle minus 15, 20 or 35 F (sub-zero), better than 90 F.

    And a lovely day it was, out there today, such a relief to have the humidity gone--wish it could be like this all summer, a perfect 10 of a day. But the horrid muggy weather yesterday and before, really didn't help my condition, any.

    I almost fell today, getting up from my chair. Just couldn't get my balance. I've been feeling a bit--odd, on and off all night, very mildly light-headed, rapid heartbeat, and a a headache, as well. So, I still have a few of the symptoms of a low blood count/anemia. I have been taking the iron and vitamins daily, so...no idea. I'll make a couple of appointments tomorrow, see what's what.

    I nearly got creamed by some jerk in a compact car, while legally crossing the street tonight--an idiot who had the nerve to yell at me...I wrote a letter to the Post-Star editor again--pulling no punches this time. I really am truly beginning to loathe modern America--we really are a bunch of hypocritical maroons.

    In all seriousness, if I win the lottery, gonna' do two things--pay off my debts, and move the hell out of America--Canada, England, Scotland, Wales, Netherlands, Iceland...don't care. Just anywhere away from these people who can't spell, read, talk proper English, or walk through a car park safely. Arrrgh!

    I REST MY CASE:

  • Dr Who Captions for Thursday


    "Erm--Freema, this is my girlfriend...erm--sweetheart, I know this looks bad, but..."


    "...and that cloud looks like a swan, and oh, that one looks just like your tiny little..."

  • What's Important to you?

    Sometimes, when I grow weary of the daily emptiness, the utter nothing of the endless days, I try to find happiness in the little things--because, in the end, that's really all I have...maybe, all I ever did have.

    Today, I look, and I see cobalt blue skies, puffy cotton ball, virgin white clouds floating about, the leaves of the maple, poplar and oak, reflecting back the brilliant sun, fluttering, dancing in the whispering breeze.

    I hear, I see, I feel. I write and I think. And really, in the end, isn't that what's most important? Or maybe not. Maybe I'm just dull and lifeless, and feeling sorry for myself again.

    What things are most important to you, in this life?

  • What the Doctor Really Does when a Companion Leaves...


    "Finally! Got the Tardis to myself! Companions! Always on at a Timelord, 'When you gonna' clean the control room? Will you take me shopping in ancient Egypt?, Are you going to wear THAT tie?' Nag-nag-nag! Time to strip down to my underwear, get a beer and watch some football--and, I can fart to my heart's content, and leave the seat up on the loo..."

  • That Odd Couple Girl: NYC thru a kid's eyes

    When I was a small child, I grew up watching television--three whole channels, back then, CBS-ABC-NBC. We didn't even get public television, where we lived--tho' for some really odd reason, the folks on the other side of the four-lane roadway on the hill that our street was off of--essentially, the entire rest of our village--could get PBS. No clue why the antennas on our side of the little hill (the highway was built up onto the top of this wee steep-sided hill) could not get the likes of Sesame Street and such.

    But we grew up watching tele, that's for sure--even incorporating it into our play: Man from U.N.C.L.E, Daniel Boone, Lassie (the forest rangers on the show, not the dog), TV westerns like the Rifleman, Cowboy in Africa, the Virginian, High Chapparal and, of course, Zorro (yes, I had a Zorro sword), and, for us girls, Family Affair (Okay--how many of you over 40 American women out there, had a Mrs. Beasley doll?), and, also, playing Sally Fields as the Flying Nun--swinging from a swings, pretending we were flying in our little nun-hats.

    And, we loved other shows as well, particularly, That Girl and the Odd Couple. It was through these last two programmes that I developed a definite love for New York City...to my childish eyes, it was a truly magical place, where anything could happen. It was glamourous and exciting...especially when we were watching "That Girl."

    The world of That Girl was wonderful and glamourous, and we all wanted to be aspiring actresses--okay, well, for a time, I did. The New York portrayed on these shows was a grown up wonderland, and for years I dreamed of getting to see it...and was, I'm afraid, a bit disappointed when I finally did, in the spring of 1974. But--from the mid-60's to then, I was able to keep my vision of what NYC was like, and I don't regret that--and, I still love New York...just wouldn't want to live there.

  • David Tennant: Geeks R Us & misc running commentary

    Well, I was sent this pic of Tennant in my e-mail this morning, by this young lady, whom I refer to as a "walking David Tennant encyclopedia." I'd never call her a drooling fangirl, but...wouldn't be surprised if she wore a bib while watching Dr Who... ;D

    Mr. Tennant, I take it, is playing himself...erm, I mean, a geek. :))

    I barely know this girl, but still, she's always sending me stuff--sometimes I read it, to be polite, and sometimes-into the rubbish bin it goes...sorry David dear, but, while I, in all sincerity, think you're truly an awesome actor, and you seem like a pretty nice kid--you're just not my type.

    What is my type, looks-wise? Beats me. I prefer someone I can talk with and just enjoy being around, over someone who's more into trendy clothes and hair gel, that wants me to fawn over his sexy maleness all of the time. Yech. Guess that sounds rather trite--or, perhaps, just plain lame, but it's the truth--which is why I'm an old maid, I suppose, and haven't dated in 10 years. There was a time, when I was younger, I went for the clean cut good looking type of celebrity: Parker Stevenson, Jameson Parker, Richard Dean Anderson.

    Now...meh, don't care. If it makes you fangirls feel any better, John Barrowman's looks don't do anything for me, either. Or, his apparent behaviour--I am too old now, to want to be attracted to a guy who appears to be a permanently stuck in puberty. I'm sure he's a terrific guy--he seems charming, in the one or two interviews I've seen--but, I will never be attracted to a grown up teenager. I want a m-a-n. Oh, I'm all for laughing, kidding around, having fun--but grown up fun. I (mostly) left the loo humour behind at age 15 or so. He too, seems like a nice boy, but I also find Barrowman a bit--tiring.


    Well, the above is the sort scene you'd see, if you went out on Lake George today. Our heat spell is broken!!! YES!!!! (punches the air)

    Oh yes, it's gorgeous out there today. This morning, I opened the door to the front room, and it was like air conditioning in there. It's just a perfect 10 today, weather-wise. Very refreshing after that brutally awful steam heat we've had for the last several days.
    A lot of people getting sick and having breathing and heart problems, I was told.

    It's the kind of day, if you aren't working, you just want to jump in your car and drive somewhere--take a picnic lunch or stop at a little cafe on the way, just drive through the mountains and rolling hills and admire the fantastic views.

  • Reader Participation Poll: Dr Who story

    To the few of you who happen to be actually reading--and perhaps maybe even, following along, with Time Lords Don't Cry (originally written before I knew who David Tennant was, and a few weeks before I'd seen Rose's departure in "Doomsday," by the way), now have a chance to participate in the story-writing process.

    You see, as originally written, the story has a more or less happy ending. But, since this is, sort of, a darker, more Gothic style story, I've toying with the idea of killing off Marie in the end.

    So, here's your chance to vote:

    In "comments" vote "YES" if you want the happy ending to stay in.

    Vote "NO" if you want a sad ending, and Marie killed off.

    If anyone's missed a chapter, here's the links to the chapters so far, in order:

    (Chapters One, two, etc.):

    Link to Chapters 1, 2, & 3: (26th June--bottom to top of page)
    http://oldmaid.blog.co.uk/2007/06/26/

    Chapter 4: (28th June)
    http://oldmaid.blog.co.uk/2007/06/28/

    Chapter 5: (30th June)
    http://oldmaid.blog.co.uk/2007/06/30/

    The remaining chapters--using the calendar on the right side of this blog, were posted on July: 1st (ch. 6 & 7 bottom to top), 2nd (chap 8), 4th (chap. 9), 5th (chap. 10), 6th (chap. 11), 8th (Chap. 12), 9th (Ch. 13), 10th (Chap. 14), Today--11th July (Ch. 15/16 bottom to top)

  • Dr Who: Time Lords Don't Cry--continued.

    I honestly was planning on just giving up the ghost with this story, as I really don't feel like I'm hitting the mark with it, at all. In re-reading it, I found it a bit disjointed and irregular, and just not terribly exciting to write, in my view. Oh, I like writing TLDC, but it doesn't have me eager to shoot off the next chapter, like other stories have done, in the recent past. To put it succinctly, I find this story a wee bit dull. But, a couple of folks have asked that it continue, so I will honor their requests, and thank them for their comments. N. (Playwrite27)

    Doctor Who: Time Lords Don't Cry

    CHAPTER 16: Face-to-Face

    Shaking his head to clear it, and spitting out dirt, the Doctor came to. He'd merely been stunned by the fall, but found himself half buried under a small mound of dirt and stones. Brushing the debris from his clothing, the Doctor groaned. Stiffly, holding his back, he stood and looked up through the open trap door. "Arrgh, I do believe I'm starting to feel my age." He muttered sourly. The Doctor abruptly remembered his young companion. He could see the faint reflection of flames from the burning farmhouse. Cupping his hands he shouted, “Marie! Marie? Can you hear me? If you can, go towards the farmhouse. She won’t follow you there." The Doctor listened, but could only hear the crackle of flames. He sucked in his breath, his brow creased with anxiety. The Doctor shouted again, hoping fervently in his hearts, that she was still alive to hear him. "Marie! Can you hear me? If you can hear me, Go towards the flames--but not too close. Stay back as far as you can.” Not waiting for an answer, the Doctor quickly headed for the end of the tunnel, hoping to find a way out.

    The Doctor had lost his torch in the fall. Now, he was forced to grope about in near pitch blackness, the rapidly diminishing light of the flames making things that much harder. Bent double, he jogged along feeling the walls on both sides, stumbling over large stones. He started when something alive ran over his boot. It gave a high pitched squeal and scurried off. “Rats! I hate rats!” He muttered. “Especially rats in tunnels.”

    Just then, the Doctor's hand slapped a horizontal wooden slat. Finding the bottom rung, he quickly climbed up, hoping that a working door awaited him at the other end. Just as he neared the top, a roar filled the tunnel, and the overhead beams began to buckle, causing large chunks of dirt to rain down upon him. The Doctor yanked open the trap door and was assailed by an overpowering sour ammonia-like odour.

    Pulling himself up through the door, he wrinkled his nose and made a face. Just his luck, this opening would happen to be situated next to the manure pile. Holding his nose the Doctor said, “Well, I don’t have to worry about anyone looking for a door there, at any rate.” Walking away, he looked towards what remained of the house. It was gone. There were just piles of burning lumber and twisted metal pipes. He saw that half the roof that had landed in the back yard, but there was no sign of Marie. The Doctor stubbed his toe on something white. Picking it up, he absently tucked it inside his shirt. The Doctor softly called Marie's name, but he was greeted with silence.

    Anxiously, the Doctor approached the wreckage of the house, all the while keeping a wary eye out for any more of Uncle Tobias’ friends. He was scanning the site, when the Doctor noticed a shadow detach itself from one of the nearby trees. Backing away guardedly, he stood waiting. “Doctor? Is that you?” He breathed a sigh of relief as Marie came running up to him. Hugging her, he grinned wildly and asked, “You’re alright sweetheart?” She nodded. “It was the fire. Mrs. McHenry didn’t want to go near the fire.”

    The Doctor looked at her quizzically. “Mrs. McHenry?” Then a light dawned on him. “Ah yes, your uncle’s lady friend. Who was she then?” Marie looked at him sadly, whispering,“She lived in an old trailer down the road. She used to work in our school cafeteria.” The Doctor sighed. “Well, hopefully the explosion and fire took care of at least some of them.” A muffled metallic clanking came from underneath the still-burning house. “Whoops. Spoke too soon, I see.” He looked soberly at Marie. “I’ve got to get back to the Tardis--that’s my ship. And I need to do it rather quickly.” He smiled ruefully and scratched his cheek. “Only problem is, I can’t remember where it’s parked.”

    Marie smiled. “It is a big blue box that says “Police” on it?” The Doctor beamed. “That’s the one. Any idea how we can get there in a hurry?” Marie turned and headed towards a small shed next to the barn. Grabbing his hand, she said, “Come with me, Doctor.” With a bemused expression, the Doctor allowed her to lead him to the shed. Marie pushed open the double doors to the shed. Reaching inside, she fished out a small railroad lantern. Pulling a book of matches from her pocket she lit it. The Doctor merely watched, and waited patiently. Marie stepped inside and swung the lantern forward, pointing at something. The Doctor looked. There in front of him was a large older pick up truck. The ’65 Chevy had once been red but now was more rust than paint. The tires were nearly bald and the windshield was cracked. "This was Uncle Tobias' truck." She said.

    “Do you know how to drive?” Marie queried. “Oh yes.” The Doctor rubbed his hands together. “Maybe now, we can get somewhere.” Getting behind the wheel, he noticed a bumper sticker stuck to the back window. “Vote for Bush.” The Doctor snorted. “Well, that figures,” he turned on the headlamps and cranked over the engine. It wouldn’t turn over. “Let’s hope your uncle didn’t go the cheap on the petrol for this thing.” The Doctor huffed. Something made him look up. Out of the blue, the bulk of Uncle Tobias in his armored suit filled the doorway of the shed.

  • Stormy Weather--not the song and misc. ramblings

    Well, more storms coming in again today. Let's hope no more power outages--yesterday's storm hit the nearby Spier Falls dam on the Hudson River in Moreau, NY, and took out 13 major powerlines, causing a massive and potentially harmful low voltage situation, so Natl. Grid shut down the system to Warren, Washington and Saratoga counties--hence my office's shut down for the night. Wasn't good coming home to no fan, tho'--I didn't mention it yesterday, but I nearly passed out from the heat, when I got home last night--I mean I literally had to run into the shower and douse myself, clothes and all, then go sit near the window for some air for a few minutes--recovered in minutes, thankfully. Was a bit of a scare tho', when my vision began to blacken. That's not a good sign..but, I'm fine, really. I just got overheated from standing about a hot car park for a half hour, and walking home.

    It was brutally--I mean totally horrendously hot, yesterday---the steam heat was exactly like a very hot sauna. The ambulance crews were very busy. And idiot girl here--who knows better--had been drinking lots of coffee, instead of my usual water, while I was working.
    Having spent much of my younger days (aka age 30 and under) working and playing outdoors in all extremes of the weather, I know all about the hot/cold weather dangers and what to do/not to do. So, there's no excuse for what happened last night, but my own stupidity.

    I just Googled WTEN's news page, and clicked on the weather radar image. Looks like some of the storms to our west, skirting the Great Sacandaga Lake/reservoir, are moving a bit into the city, but mostly seem to be sticking to western Warren and northern Saratoga and eastern Fulton counties. My former towns of Lake Luzerne/Corinth are getting hammered tho', I think.

    The bill collectors are making me crazy! Got a call from some snotty yuppie from the Vermont student lenders--she was civil, but was rather brusqe and wasn't really listening to anything I was saying. Then, my other bill collectors called--the one's from stinking India (not bigoted, I just resent these people taking our jobs, but I don't really hate them--just the companies they work for, tho' I do strongly dislike getting a guy or gal I can't understand, who can't speak clear English---bad enough getting bugged about bills, but getting bugged about bills by someone who's accent is so thick, you can't hardly fathom what he or she is saying...dang, I hate that.)

    Thanks to those of you who left messages about Time Lords Don't Cry. I really don't feel this is a good story, and don't like writing rubbish, if I can help it, but since to my surprise, some people seem to be reading it, I'll continue to slog through it.

    Well, off to make lunch and do the washing up. Nice breeze coming in through the window, all of the sudden, really good to feel it.

  • Time Lords Don't Cry--Important Note from the Author

    I'm not sure I will continue to publish the Dr Who fan fic story, "Time Lords Don't Cry."

    I was in the process of changing the story around a bit, from the original--now I'm not sure if that is working...so I think I'll just leave it lie for now.

    IF there is anyone out there in blogland, actually reading this story, I'm sorry. It's my strong impression that most people are not--and if that's incorrect, I would be greatly astounded. I only know of one person who is, and that person isn't even, by their own admission, a Dr Who fan.

    I can continue the story if someone indicates he or she wants that to happen, but for now I'm going on the assumption that that will not be the case.

    I'm only doing this because I honestly don't think the story is working in the way I want it to--the flow isn't really there, and it's not overly exciting, I don't think, or all that well-written.

    Thanks for your understanding, N. (Playwrite27)

  • Dr Who Captions for Wednesday


    "Who me? Sell the, erm--Tardis, on--erm, e-bay?"


    "...and, if I hold this button down long enough, I get mad hair..."


    "For the last time, I'm warning you two--STOP calling my Tardis a porta-loo!"

  • Awwww----Adopt a Pet and share the love!

    Because...if you love them, really love them, they will return that love--unconditionally, for the rest of their life.

    Please visit your local shelter and adopt a cat, kitten, dog or puppy. C'mon, you know you want to! (Isn't she just a little sweetheart?)

  • Stormy Weather...

    A Classic from a Classy Lady: (And, a favourite of mine)

  • Doctor Who: Time Lords Don't Cry

    Doctor Who: Time Lords Don't Cry

    Chapter Fifteen: Tunneling to Freedom--or Death?

    “We have to get this open!” The Doctor shouted. “Here, Marie. Give me a hand.” Marie reached up on her tiptoes and gripped the bar with both hands. With a grating groan of protest, the metal bar slowly moved down. The shelving shifted slightly. The Doctor used his shoulder to force it open part-way. He pointed the torch through the opening. The light reveled shoveled out dirt walls, and a low dirt roof held up with huge hand-hewn wooden supports. Dust motes sifted through the torch’s beams. Holding Marie’s hand, he edged into the opening. “We’ll have to hurry. When that gas ignites..." He glanced behind him, "well, we don’t want to get trapped down here, do we?.”

    Marie nodded--then stared at the Doctor. "Wait, Doctor. What do you mean? What's going to explode?" Brushing aside a multitude of cobwebs, the Doctor led the way down the gaping maw of the tunnel, stooping over to avoid hitting his head on the dirt roof. He glanced down at Marie. "I made things a little hot for your Uncle." Scratching his ear, he murmured, "Brings a new meaning to the old American saying, 'now you're cookin' with gas." He grinned, "I left a little surprise for your uncle in the kitchen. Believe you me, he'll get a big bang out of it."

    The going was slow. Every so often, dirt sifted down on top of the pair, worrying the Doctor. If the house blew while they were still in here…he stiffened his shoulders and ran a bit faster, dragging Marie along with him. Unfortunately, the cramped quarters made running almost as much of a hazard as a cave-in. He cursed under his breath in low Galafreyan when his forehead grazed a beam. He missed his trainers, as well. Running bent double was difficult enough: in wellies, it definitely left something to be desired. Just then he felt Marie stop abruptly. He turned. “We can’t stop, we have to keep going!’ He shouted. “We have to stop!” Marie shouted back.

    She pointed at the dirt wall behind him. Set into the wall, regular blocks of dirt had been scooped away and flat stones used as steps. It didn’t look very stable. The Doctor carefully rested a foot on the first step, to test it. The dirt crumbled away, trickling down onto his boot, but the step held fast. The Doctor lifted up Marie. “Right then, up you go young lady.” She climbed up and opened another trap door, and the rushing wind blew thorough, raining dead leaves down upon the Doctor.

    Balancing his foot on the first stone, the Doctor heaved himself up, step by careful step. Poking his head up through the door, he saw they were alongside the barn. Just then, he heard Marie give a little squeak of surprise. The walking dead woman in the apron was reaching pale fingers towards her. The Doctor launched himself up out of the tunnel, only to have the last step give way. He fell back into the tunnel, with the staircase collapsing on top of him.

  • My Nana's Tree is Gone!

    I was reading about the severe storms that blew through my former hometowm yesterday. My aunt's tree was one of the casualties--taking down a big powerline with it--but, fortunately no one was hurt--and, the volunteer fire company is right on the opposite corner. But oh, I remember playing around that tree as a wee child. I liked that old maple tree. Too bad.

  • Sent Home from Work--with Pay! And a Cow named Susan Shockley

    We had a brown-out in the city tonight. After all of us hanging out in our building's car park for half and hour, we were told to off it--with pay.

    I got home, barely light to see by, so after putting the perishables in the fridge in the freezer as a precaution, I dumped a tin of raviolli in a pan, and put it on the cooker, got out some lettuce, dumped some bottled salad dressing on it, and sat out on the balcony and ate my naf meal. I was losing the light rapidly, and had no clue when power would be restored, so I had to make something quick, while I still could see to cook and eat. Figures. Halfway through eating, power came back on. So, didn't have my Cajun black beans and rice with smoked sausage and corn for dinner--had stinking Chef Boyardee tinned pasta and a few bites of last week's lettuce, that hadn't quite wilted yet.

    But thank goodness we were sent home at half-past seven. Things were not going well, for me:

    There we were, trying to sell stuff to people who mostly don't want it---one "nice" yuppie type (aka a totally inhuman southern poodle, named Susan Shockley) woofed at me, before I barely got a word out "I don't talk to people I don't care about!" And promptly slammed the phone down--deliberately hurting my ear. She didn't even ask what I wanted, the pathetic empty-headed cow. You folks in the U.K. have your chavs? We in the US call them "white trash." Rich or poor, I'm sorry to say this, trash is as trash does. I sincerely hate to imagine what her mother is like (shudders). I felt like asking her if she was raised in a farmyard.

    I HATE my culture! I mean, I love my country for what it used to stand for, love the land, most of the history behind it(tho' some is not to be proud of) Love the ideas, and not all people are bad, no. I wouldn't want to give that impression--but sometimes, I sort of understand why foreign interests hate us so much--we hate the hell out of each other, and unlike terrorists, who usually have religious/political agendas, Americans hate each other---just because they can.

    Too many Americans have become so isolated from each other, that they're losing their civilized veneer, and, slowly, by inches--and sometimes by yards--they're losing their very humanity.

    And, I hate the hate, I guess. I'm positively bogged-down weary of it. I've been so subjected to pettiness, meaness and senseless hate in my lifetime, I'm just...disgusted by it all. I suppose it wouldn't matter where I go. I suppose maybe it's not cultural--maybe people hate each other and behave like dumb animals and are rotten, everywhere on this planet. Maybe it's just the way things are, in the modern world. I don't know...

  • David Tennant: Hot and Sticky


    "I just visited Playwrite27--and it was so hot and humid, my hand is permanantly stuck to my hair gel."

    Have to grab a crowbar and pry myself out of my chair--my fingers are actually sticking to the keyboard! Off back to work, for another five hours of telemarketing really swell people...swell...erm...okay, rude and bonkers--God bless America!

  • The Steambath: Longing for Winter

    It's unbearably warm today--nature's sauna. One of those days when you work up a sweat just sitting down in the shade.

    It's days like this, make me long for winter again.

    In northeastern New York, on a winter night, you first know it's snowing, when you are lying safe and warm in bed, snugged away beneath your quilt, and you are wakened in the night by the heavy metallic scraping of the municipal or state's snowplow, the huge blade throwing sparks as it scrapes the snow from the bare pavement--followed on the back end, perhaps, by the hissing of the sand or salt spreader, attached to the back of the enormous rig. The deep kettle drum-like grating sound of that four foot high blade on the roadway is, by the time you're an adult, both a comfortingly familiar--and also, somewhat obnoxious, sound.

    You wake in the morning, and squinting against the glare, peer out at the bright gray or blue skies. Even after decades of living in snow country, you still find yourself blinking in astonishment, of what you see.

    Your outside world has changed--perhaps, depending on the snowfall totals, changed drastically.

    It's a fairy-tale land--trees, roofs, cars, the ground--all covered in fluffy white. A gingerbread setting that is truly magnificent to behold. A foot, two feet, three...of alabaster snow, enshrouds the world, smothering it a silence that is unique to winter. The world is hushed, after the storm, hiding from the riot of life and birth that is the spring.

    Then, you see YOUR car...and your front steps, and your driveway. And...where on earth is your snow shovel? You'd left it leaning against the outside wall of the home, next to the steps. A deep rumbling gives you your answer--as an avalanche of snow cascades off of your roof. You sigh--perhaps say something naughty under your breath, and look longingly at your bed.

    fOUND THIS ON THE WEB, "WINTER MORNING IN AVERILL PARK." Our parents used to take us to Averill Park all the time...a small town about a 25 minute drive from our village, in the foothills across the river from Albany. We used to visit a mineral shop, go to the drive-ins, restaurants and two lakes, there. AVERILL PARK, NY TRIVIA: Comedian Jerry Lewis once worked as a Soda Jerk in Averill Park. It was a resort, with a casino, way back then.

  • Doctor Who: Time Lords Don't Cry

    Doctor Who: Time Lords Don't Cry, by N. (Playwrite27)

    CHAPTER 14: Shake and Bake

    The Doctor appeared bored. Scratching the side of his nose he said to the armored creature--aka, Uncle Tobias, "Oh, the Droom, right. That's nice." He cocked his head. "But you're from the dark times. I thought your race died out eons ago." He stuck his hands in his pockets, studying the Droom like a less-than-interested student. "Your lot should be in a museum, somewhere. Huh. Well," he sighed, "I suppose", then he stifled a yawn, "that I should ask what are you doing here, bothering with humans." In a mere second, his demeanor changed. He leaned in, eyes flashing angrily, "Your lot has the whole of the universe to wander. Why choose to assimilate the human race? What are they to you?"

    The Droom hoarsely rasped, "We were wakened from a million year dormancy by a freighter that crashed into the planet where we were imprisoned. We woke. We fed. We like human flesh. It gives us strength. It gives us power. Power to kill, to feed and feed. Power to live forever. The billions of humans here on earth, their life energy, their bones and blood. It will allow us to rule. All of time and space. The Droom will become Supreme." The Doctor snorted, “Yeah, yeah yeah. I’ve heard it all before. From worse beings than you, I’ll have you know. Cybermen. Daleks. What makes you think you’re so special, eh?”

    The Droom, standing arrogantly, replied, "I will assimilate you. You are a Time Lord. Your life energy will give me power. Power over all." The Doctor merely shook his head and sighed disgustedly. “And now, I suppose you’re expecting me to be all scared or something, run away screaming?” He leaned in, whispering “The problem with that, you see, is that I know all about your so-called race. You’re nothing. In a galaxy full of beauty and intelligence and wonder,” he looked down his nose at Uncle Tobias, “you’re nothing but pure rubbish. Leeches. That’s all. Common everyday pests, and nothing more.”

    He stepped back as Uncle Tobias threw back his head and let out mighty roar. “Oh, dear. Did I hurt your feelings? Tsk-tsk.” The Doctor said. Behind him was an old fashioned Hoosier cupboard, containing various cooking supplies. All the while he’d been talking to the Droom leader, he’d also been reaching behind him for some things in the cupboard. The Doctor had grabbed a large container of vegetable oil and a small sack of flour. Now, stepping back quickly, he threw the flour at Uncle Tobias. Then, he threw the oil over the flour. The armored creature yowled with anger, but the Doctor ignored it. He snatched up the glass kerosene lamp on the kitchen table, and threw it as hard as he could at the armor plating, shattering the globe with it’s burning wick inside. With a terrible scream, Uncle Tobias burst into flame.

    The oil stuck to bits of the flour and continued to burn. The creature, screaming, retreated back into the parlor. The Doctor wasted no time. He whirled around and turned up all the knobs on the old-fashioned gas stove, then he flung open the trap door and scooted down the ladder, slamming it shut behind him.

    “Come on Marie!” He shouted, "We’ve got to get out of here! Where’s this tunnel of yours?” She pointed to a large wooden shelf that took up most of a wall. “It’s there. But the lever’s stuck. I can’t get it to move.” The Doctor saw a half-meter long thin piece of cast iron with a curved end. It had been made to look like a hook for holding a bucket or something similar. “You have to pull down on it, to make the cupboard swing open.” The Doctor pulled down with all his might, but the latch refused to budge. It was rusted closed. Straining with all of his considerable Time Lord might, he couldn't shift it. Sweat beading his brow, the Doctor reckoned they had maybe a minute or two, before the gas ignited and blew.

  • Morning has broken--or was that my blister?

    I didn't have to be up until nearly eight, this morning--but no. The cats all decided that they should walk all over me and meow and, Boots, bless him, decided that one of my armpits needed a good wash. So, they got me up an hour early--and now are all passed out asleep, in the front room, bless. Love pet ownership...not. Okay, yes, I do love them, but sometimes...arrgh!!

    In a few days, I'll be posting personal pics. A co-worker in the office is scanning and loading pics from my photo albums onto a CD for me--about 15 or 20. Some will just be pics of my trips, or just some local fall colours, pets and such. A few will be of me/mum. I won't post pics of my nephew/sister, as I'd not consulted them, and, though I did love my dad, we weren't all that close, so I opted out of pics of him--not to be petty, just that I have in mind certain pics to put on CD, and can only do just so many. I don't--never have--own a digital camera or anything electronic--barring this no-name desktop PC. I don't even have a camera any longer, as I lost my beloved 35mm Kodak E-Z Load camera, a couple of years back. Not one of my happiest moments--I really loved that camera.

    Hot again, today. Steamy, unhealthy, tropical heat. But, supposed to go down a bit, by the weekend, thankfully. Had breakfast on the balcony with Boots and Charlie (Flame's afraid of the balcony, for some reason, wants no part of it.)

    May try posting another Dr Who chapter, before I leave. Another ten-hour day of telemarketing to slog through--tho', thankfully, suddenly they're breaking up the sales with collections calls--little bit of both, which certainly makes the day go faster. Unlike yesterday, I also get an tiny bit of extra time for lunch--and hour and a half sounds like a lot, but, by the time I walk home, make lunch, eat, freshen up--it's time to go back to work already. That extra half hour--a 2 hour lunch--really helps, I can actually digest my food before returning to work. It's better too, than when I'm working the 9 to 5 shift, as the 30 min. they allow for lunch, barely allows you time to get down to the building's caf, microwave leftovers or order your lunch, eat and get back upstairs. So a two-hour break is fine by me...tough going back to work tho', when 5.0 rolls around.

    I made the mistake, the other night, of wearing my cheezy trainers without socks, and now have a rather unpleasant, very raw blister, on the top of my foot. That's what I get for buying cheap shoes. Sometimes, I think, it's better to do without.

  • Dr Who Captions for Tuesday


    "Ha! My laser screwdriver will turn you into David "oneinch"--who's the Master now?"


    "Shake-shake-shake, shake-shake-shake, shake your booty!"


    "I've got 50p riding on you in the Wheelchair Derby--now go out and win!"

  • Al Gore????

    I keep hearing, from comments overseas, in the UK mostly, since the Live Earth concert, mutters about Al Gore running for Prez. HUH?????

    Am I missing something here??? When did Al throw his hat into the ring? Have I been asleep at the election wheel?

    I haven't heard a peep about Gore running for Prez again. Where the heck are they getting this stuff from?

    Okay, he hasn't officially announced he's running. Yes, they are polling dems in Iowa and New Hampshire, but...he's not on the ticket! They also poll for other non-canadates, and they too, sometimes do well in the polls--but that doesn't mean ANYTHING. Nothing. Zip.

    If someone's not running, they're not running--political polls become near meaningless. Yes, he is CONSIDERING it, but...I think he will hurt the party more than help it, in the long run. He's just not a strong enough speaker--he failed last time, and I don't think he's up to par this time.

    Do I like the man? Yes, I sort of do. He rather reminds me of a young and trendy version of Jimmy Carter. Do I think he'd make a good Prez? Yes and No. I think he'd focus more on the true issues that blight America/the World, but...I don't think he's forceful enough to get action from the narrow-minded, empty-headed, selfish Congress/US Senate. Seriously, no. It'd be great to have someone more or less genuine, but...he's perceived by those in power, and shallower Americans, as weak--because he cares so much about humanity, and the world around us. Sadly, too many Americans view that as a weakness, not a strength--not me, but..yes, I do in fact know Americans who really do feel this way.

    Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama are the current Democratic frontrunners--in the end, I predict, in the Democratic primaries, that it'll be these two running neck and neck--tho' that could change of course, but I don't foresee that happening.

    If Gore by some chance, does throw his hat into the presidential ring, he would only win because he's white male. Seriously, not joking. We're still a very arse-backward nation, when it comes to putting women and blacks into office. Makes many an insecure white Anglo-Saxon American very uncomfortable. So Al might win their votes.

    IF Al Gore runs, it, in all likelyhood, won't be until 2012, I'm thinking. I may be wrong--I read he'd canceled 6 months worth of trips--one to Japan to discuss global warming--Ironic, ey?

    But, I don't think he can run for VP again--tho' I'm not certain. It's possible, I suppose. I should know that, having taken a political science course in 2002, State and Local Government--but alas, I don't remember--and, quite honestly, right at this moment, I'm too hot and sticky and knackered to walk over to the bookcase and look it up in the old textbook.

    But I've yet to hear that he's running for Prez, for certain. He's not even filed yet, as far as I know, and the deadline's not far off.

  • Ever have a song....?

    Ever have a song you just CANNOT get out of your head, all day?

    I had watched a clip from Last of the Time Lords and this damn song (actually I rather like it, no idea who sings it, but the tune, the way it's sung (not so much the words), reminds me of the stuff I used to listen to as a young person). Anyway, this darn song has been playing in my head all day.

    Then I figured out why. I'm a telemarketer, and "people" were being totally mean, rude and downright obnoxious to me--and my co-workers, all day.

    Here' the tune:

    Never heard of the "Scissor Sisters" But, I am a bit surprised , on hearing the full version, that they'd use this in a kid's programme, as the original uses a bit of bltatant swearing--do they not think kids will hunt down the full version?

    I'm not an old prude--unfortunately, I'm not immune to swearing. However, I think kids should be protected from this, assault on the English language. They will grow up fast enough, without us helping them unnecessarily. Am I wrong? I don't know. I kind of like the song--but not crazy about the cursing. And..I don't know. Is Dr Who really for kids, anymore--or are children a myth now, and just wee adults we don't need to protect from the baser realities of life?

  • Long Night Into Morning

    It's so terribly hot and steamy--the weather, not my bedroom. When it comes to my personal life, the words, "hot and steamy" would only apply to the times when I worked as a dishwasher one summer, and those fresh little "presents" I used to fork into a wheelbarrow, when I was a stablehand. Well, one ten-plus hour day down, one more to go :**:

  • Somebody PUH-LEASE Get me outta' this Country!! Now!!!

    This was a horrible night. Nearly every American I called---literally coast to coast, bore a greater resemblance to a farm animal than a civilized human being. What is it with Americans and their crap manners??? Well, I know what it is, they don't have any! We have got to be, the laziest, dumbest, most morally back-arsed country of any industrialized nation in the world! I speak as a card-carrying leftest. No, really. I have this card, "LEFTIST." :))

    Oh, America can be a brilliant nation when she wants to be--but that's just the problem: more and more lately, she doesn't want to be. That would take genuine effort: To think, to care, to act. And we can't have that, oh no! That might interfere with our own selfish, self-centred little lives. We might have to get up off our very well-fed (well, mostly) bottoms and actually MOVE. And, heaven forbid we should begin thinking independently, or abstractly--and God help us, if we should be courteous and respectful--that's a weakness you know. We need to be strong--that's why we have so many guns and hate and bigotry, don't ya' know.

    And so help me, if one more little kid, answers the telephone with a surly, totally rude, "Who's this!!" I swear, I'm gonna' reach through the phone line and paddle the wee brat's bottom with a hairbrush--obviously mum and dad don't love them enough, or care enough to do it themselves--or are even dumber than their 6 year old. My late mum would'a had a fit, if a child adreessed her like that--and rightly so. She was a PARENT, not a...zookeeper.

  • The other "Mystery Spot"

    But wait, that's not all!

    There's another one, on the opposite side of the country, in California's redwood forest:

    Whhoooo---scary! Someone call in Torchwood! 88| :))

  • I Wuz here: The "Mystery Spot"--Weird stuff!

    Or, it could be just all in our imaginations...

    YES! YES! YES! There really is a mysterous echo--eek! :)) I did it, when I was living up the road in Lake George. When I lived there, last summer, for cheap pleasure (aka: free), I used to walk that board walk, sit in the gardens, window shop, watch the boats and tourons..erm nice tourists, and, yes, check out the "echo" spot. Yes, I truly am dull. I kept wanting to do a Father Ted, and boast about the big "tourist attraction." :>>

  • Does the word "Sectioned," ring any bells?

    Opened my junk mail box--sometimes my email mistakenly shoots proper e-mails to my junk mail--and lo and behold, got this missive from a complete stranger (at least, I hope to heaven it's no someone I know! Check this out:

    I’m being harassed by a schizophrenic gay freemason. This unbelievable situation has gone on for years and to this day there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

    To give a brief insight on how the problems began, the freemason (an alcoholic that can’t handle alcohol) got drunk and made sexual advances. After he was rejected he tried to kill me, obviously incase I were to speak about him and tell people he’s gay.

    After the attempted murder, I ended up in hospital where the staff learned of exactly what had happened, but instead of the freemason being charged I’ve ended up a victim of electronic harassment. I’ve been a victim of this for over 3 years. The harassment I’m speaking about here is all due to an implant (a tiny glass capsule) that’s been placed under the soft tissue of my skin – it transmits sound and is powered by the body electric.

    Some of you may know how the implant can interfere with electrical equipment. Every time I walk near something that has a thermostat it will either switch on or off. To make matters even worse then they are already, the “lone drinking fruitcake” freemason has been constantly pestering me by using the implant transmissions to interfere with household appliances – always to occur in sequence to something, usually things I read or something offensive etc said on T.V, its like a routine which is always more frequent at night, its either to get me to take note of something or change my reaction.

    That’s how it’s been for years. It’s the same crap all the time. I’ve kind of got used to the antics, but what really gets me is the regularity of it.

    The reason I’m posting this is because I would like to hear what you people think of this situation.

    Or better still, does anyone know a way of detecting the transmission from the implant, once I have done that this situation is over. And so is he. If anyone can tell me a way of detecting a transmission of this kind, please do so. Otherwise this situation well never end.

    (Insert Looney Tunes theme song, here:)

  • Dr Who: Time Lords Don't Cry

    Doctor Who: Time Lords Don't Cry

    CHAPTER 13: Home Sweet Home

    Hands in pockets, the doctor paced a bit, then sat down on the edge of the coffee table. “Marie? What about your uncle? He doesn’t seem to be like the others, he’s seems much stronger. You said that when he’d found out you’d been hiding Chauncey from him, he’d thrown you into the well. That was this afternoon, in broad daylight. What about that?” Marie drew a deep sigh. “It’s the armor. During the daytime, when he has to come out for some reason, he wears a big suit of metal, like the knights used to wear in the olden days.”

    The Doctor drew back, puzzled. “What? You mean like armor, armor? Like King Arthur and all that?” He sat back in reflection. “Hmmm---that does put a new light on things.” All at once the front door burst apart. The Doctor whimsically said, "Honey, I'm home!" Marie just raised an eyebrow. Smiling encouragingly, the doctor bolted up, "Come on, then.” Without hesitating, he grabbed Marie by the hand and they both fled into the kitchen.

    The Doctor picked up Marie and set her down on top of the kitchen table, with the stern admonishment to “Wait here!” Promising to be right back, he dashed back into the parlor. Grabbing up every lantern, he headed for the fireplace. The Doctor turned as the lumberjack and the hunter burst through the parlor door. “Oh, hello!” He said, cheerfully. “Come for a spot of tea, have you?” He nimbly skirted around the hunter and got the last of the lamps, putting them on the fireplace mantel. The Doctor backed against the fireplace, as the logger was reaching out for him, making a grab for the his neck neck.

    The Doctor gracefully side-stepped around the lumberjack, and lined up the lamps and lanterns along the mantel, in front of the large mirror. The hunter made a move to cut off the Doctor’s escape. In a series of quick movements, the Doctor turned up the wicks on each of the lights, causing the room to be bathed in their brilliance. The hunter and the logger raised their hands in front of their eyes. Giving inhuman shrieks, they both backed out of the room. “What they need is a really good pair of sunglasses.” The Doctor murmured to himself.

    Back in the kitchen, the Doctor found Marie moving the icebox aside. “Good girl!” He said. He helped her move it completely off the wooden trap door. Opening it, he saw a rickety set of wooden stairs. Shining his torch down there, he saw that the stairs led to what appeared to be an old root cellar. Just then, he heard a metallic clanking noise coming from the parlor. “That’s Uncle Tobias, I presume.” The Doctor looked at Marie soberly. “Marie, here’s my torch. Go on down there and be as quiet as possible. I’ll be down shortly.” She looked at him with, biting her lip with worry. “But where are you going?” She asked quietly. You’ll be careful, won’t you?” Chuckling, the Doctor patted her back affectionately. “Of course I will, never you worry about that. I just want to have a chat with your uncle. I’ll be along directly.” Helping her down the ladder, he whispered soberly, “Remember, no matter what happens, be quiet--and, Marie, if for some reason, I can't come back, get out of here. Hide. Don't let them find you." Grinning brightly, he added, ”Not that you're going to get rid of me that easily. Now, be a good girl and wait for me, eh?"

    Closing the trap door, the Doctor whirled around as the kitchen door swung open on its hinges, crashing into wall. There framed in the doorway, was a man encased in a rustic black space suit complete with helmet, made up of thin sheets of some kind of heavy shiny metal. It had all the appearance of something some late 19th or early 20th century writer might dream up. The Doctor stepped forward, looking the armored man up and down. “Well now, you certainly took you own sweet time getting here, didn’t you?” He said sarcastically. The armored man said nothing. He just stood there, motionless, like he was waiting for something.

    “Waiting for what?” The Doctor thought. Out loud he said, “What, you’re going to just stand there? What’s the matter? Oh, let me guess,” he said angrily, “you prefer to beat little girls and kill helpless animals, is that it, Uncle Tobias--or whomever you are?” He narrowed his eyes. “But you’re not Uncle Tobias, are you? What species are you then, hmmm--?" The armor plated figure said nothing. The Doctor assumed a bored expression, and pretended to consult a non-existent wrist watch, sighing, " Oh, come on, spit it out, I haven’t got all night. Places to go, things to do, and all that.” The thing in the suit spoke. “We are the Droom. We will assimilate you. We will assimilate all life and make it our own.”

  • Tropical Monday

    Going to be unpleasant weather out there, today--what we northeasterner's call, "the three H's: Hazy, Hot and Humid. A mess of thunderstorms rolled through, early this morning, now, at half-past eight, it's getting warm and muggy already. Told you'll be able to virtually cut the air with a knife, by mid-afternoon.

    Got a 10 1/2 hour day today, about an hour for lunch in between--going to be a looooonnng day! And tomorrow, as well. Well, I asked for it. They were going to cut my hours, yet again, to only nights and all day Saturday. Well, still have to work all day Saturday. Damn. But, I get Friday off...first day off in 8 days, that'll be nice. And, I only have to work night shift--five hours, mid-week, so I can sleep in--sort of, Wed. and Thurs.

    I hope to heaven I don't have to ring up too many people, today, in Texas and Maine. Snarky, mean Texas women, and Maine--just plain bonkers, every last flippin' one of them! I'm NOT kidding!

    Well, because I have to work 5 1/2 hours without eating today, made myself a good breakfast of homemade corned beef hash (fried cubes of leftover cooked potatoes and corned beef brisket) and a couple of scrambled eggs. I'll probably grab a candy bar or something at noon break, will make something for dinner before I leave this morning, stick it in the slow cooker--thinking bread stuffing with a chicken leg quarter..nice meal to come home to, tho' I'll likely have to bolt it down, with only an hour for lunch.

    Yes, another dull blog entry. Sorry.

  • Dr Who Captions for the Wee Hours


    It's been announced that David Tennant's the new poster boy for the hair gel industry.


    "Alright Doctor! This Quarry isn't big enough for the both of us--draw!"


    "Ohhh-no! Not at all, I'm not in the least bit gay!"

    :zz: OMG! It's 3am! What am I doing up??? I have to work tomorrow--about a 10 hour split shift, at that! :wave:

  • Living with a Learning Disability

    I was always rubbish at math and science--well, certain aspects of science, such as chemistry. My memory is just awful, sometimes, and I had to learn the hard way, in college, that if I wanted to memorize something--texts, scripts, etc., if it involved a test or play or whatever, I would have to do my memorization literally near the last possible minute, to really ace something. That's not to say I didn't pay attention or take notes in class--I always took notes when needed. But my short-term memory is not too bad. So, I've learned to do one of two things---for test study, I'd study lightly in the beginning, then, just before the test, cram like hell--usung highlighter or just take written notes of the most important points--or if a script, in the beginning, memorize the other actor's last line/my first line, first--and then a day or two performance, do the blitz thing and really try hard to learn the stuff...which made me really hopeless as an acting student, but I got A's for effort, which was nice. I mean, it wasn't the profession for me, as it turned out, but I am glad I got talked into putting the bulk of my liberal arts focus on theater, rubbish or not, I did get a lot out of it.

    But, my memory is still lousy. I have learned to put my keys in the same spot, wallet where I can see it--'tho sometimes when I come home tired, I still "lose" stuff...being in a zombie-like state when I get home.

    I have Dyscalculia. I don't have all the symptoms, but enough. Especially math. I not only can't (I don't mean "can't" like it's hard--I mean CAN'T as in cannot do even simple subtraction without difficulty) just can't, do math. Period. Or chemistry. I want to. I kind of liked algebra, but...it didn't like me.

    I can't do reverse real well, either. No, really. I can't do numbers backwards, and have difficulty backing up a car, even. I mean, I CAN back up a car--but, I have to really think about what I'm doing, or I tend to wind up hitting walls and curbs. I've had to learn to adjust my thinking.

    Now, some people with dyscalculia, have no sense of direction. I rarely have that problem--as long as I know North, South, East and West, I'm fine. Although, for some odd reason I can't fathom, my sense of direction is ten time more accurate and finely tuned in the country, than in the city. I can get very lost in a city, if I don't keep my head...which I've also had to learn to do. Cities confuse the hell out of me, if I let them. Don't know why, but it is this way. But I'm much better, since traveling more, at learning my way around--and, often, once I've been somewhere, I seldom forget how to get there again. Not always the case, as I get older my memory is getting worse--I have to keep at it, to keep it fine-tuned, so to speak. But, usually, once I learn where something is, I seldom forget it. I think I'm more likely to get "lost" indoors than out, but have learned coping skills, and that doesn't happen as much as it used to, thankfully.

    I'm slow. No, honest. I'm very slow off the mark sometimes--albeit, once I truly grasp something, as long as it's kept fresh in my memory from time to time--I've got it. When I have confindence in myself, in what I'm doing, I can do pretty much anything--but the problem is I don't have much confidence in myself any longer, sadly.

    These symptoms don't all necessarily apply to me, and they are not all present, all the time. Sometimes they are, and sometimes they are only there once in a while, or, I've learned to counteract them. Some symptoms are mild, some are strong, some don't exist hardly at all, and some things I don't have any problem with--like geography..I'm not great at it, but I'm not too bad, either. I can say where most of the states are, can point out England, Scotland and Ireland (Wales, I only sort of know where it is)..on a map, and a few countries in Eurpoe--well, some. That's more than a lot of my fellow Americans--who don't have disabilities--can do.

    It's hell having a learning disability. It's frustrating, and feeling stupid makes me very angry and ashamed with myself--even tho' I know it's usually not my fault. I've had my dad and a teacher call me "stupid." And often people get mad at me, because I don't "get" things right away, or maybe appear mildly retarded, because my brain's not totally registering what someone is saying. Again, I've learned to comepensate, to fake it, to try and work with it and around it--still, it's a lifelong living nightmare, that so very few people understand...and fewer still can relate to.

    It's believed that I developed this from infant or young childhood, from brain damage. I was premature, had scarlet fever as an infant, and was also struck on the head at the age of five, and had the top of my head cut open. No one knows for sure which of these events--if any, triggered this.

    People with dyscalculia have (taken from a website): Normal or accelerated language acquisition: verbal, reading, writing. Poetic ability. Good visual memory for the printed word. Good in the areas of science (until a level requiring higher math skills is reached), geometry (figures with logic not formulas), and creative arts.

    Inability to recall schedules, and sequences of past or future events. Unable to keep track of time. May be chronically late.

    Mistaken recollection of names. Poor name/face retrieval. Substitute names beginning with same letter.

    Inconsistent results in addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. Poor mental math ability. Poor with money and credit. Cannot do financial planning or budgeting. Checkbooks not balanced. Short term, not long term financial thinking. Fails to see big financial picture. May have fear of money and cash transactions. May be unable to mentally figure change due back, the amounts to pay for tips, taxes, etc

    When writing, reading and recalling numbers, these common mistakes are made: number additions, substitutions, transpositions, omissions, and reversals. (Like last night.)

    Inability to grasp and remember math concepts, rules, formulas, sequence (order of operations), and basic addition, subtraction, multiplication and division facts. Poor long term memory (retention & retrieval) of concept mastery- may be able to perform math operations one day, but draw a blank the next! May be able to do book work but fails all tests and quizzes.

    May be unable to comprehend or "picture" mechanical processes. Lack "big picture/ whole picture" thinking. Poor ability to "visualize or picture" the location of the numbers on the face of a clock, the geographical locations of states, countries, oceans, streets, etc.

    Poor memory for the "layout" of things. Gets lost or disoriented easily. May have a poor sense of direction, loose things often, and seem absent minded. (Remember the absent minded professor?)

    May have difficulty grasping concepts of formal music education. Difficulty sight-reading music, learning fingering to play an instrument, etc.

    May have poor athletic coordination, difficulty keeping up with rapidly changing physical directions like in aerobic, dance, and exercise classes. Difficulty remembering dance step sequences, rules for playing sports. (Yup, that's me!)

    Difficulty keeping score during games, or difficulty remembering how to keep score in games, like bowling, etc. Often looses track of whose turn it is during games, like cards and board games. Limited strategic planning ability for games, like chess. (I can only play cribbage on the computer, because I haven't a clue how to peg the scores. Have to let the computer do it for me.)

  • Who in the News, and Sheakespeare and Me


    DAVID; "Hey guys, look! I had my teeth cleaned yesterday!"

    Word is that Doctor Who star David Tennant has been approached to play and direct the RSC's production of Hamlet, next summer.

    I think he'd be crazy to pass that up, but then, I'm not him. I am guessing he's maybe leaving after Series 4, if he's even considering this, as he certainly wouldn't be able to do both Who and Hamlet at the same time...but that's putting the cart before the horse.

    I first read--or, more accurately, tried to read Hamlet in my late teens. Having never studied the bard, and being American, and a not particularly bright student (graduated high school in the bottom 75 of a class of more than 500) and totally unfamiliar with the Elisabethan lingo, I was rather unsuccessful. My only contact with anything Shakespearian in high school, was a trip to the movies to see Romeo and Juilet--without any instruction from the teacher as to what we were going to see--we just were told to get on a bus one day, and go see this movie--didn't like it, bored me to death. I was 15 at the time.

    But, at 19, In the summer of '80, I decided to give Hamlet a go. No idea why, other than I'd always heard about it. As I recall I got about halfway through and gave up the ghost. I brought it with me to Yellowstone Park--a wilderness area, no tele or much radio, even---to occupy me during my summer work holiday at Old Faithful, but it was a poor choice, I guess, for me back then. I think, until my forties, the only Shakespeare story I ever managed to slog through was Richard II, back when I was in my mid-thirties. I Liked that.

    At our small, local two-year college, I still didn't formally study any Shakespeare, but...In 2002, I got to play a part in a comedic 15 minute Hamlet play (have a dorky pic of me in rehersal) that we did as an in-class workshop. And that was quite fun--and, I learned a bit more about the real play, in the process, which was pretty neat. It was a fun little workshop. There weren't enough guys, so, because of my build, I got a guy's part, which was very interesting, trying to play a guy. I like doing different stuff. I wasn't any good mind, but I liked it anyway. Also for that class, we had the great treat of getting to go to the Shakespearean Theater in Lenox, Massachusetts to see MacBeth. Oh, that was fantastic! I loved every second of it! I think that was my very first live theatrical performance of a Shakespeare play. It was a genuine joy, let me tell you.

    But, it wasn't until the summer of 2004, that I FINALLY got to actually study Hamlet, in depth. To make up some credits I'd lost, I enrolled in summer study at my 4 year college in Vermont. The class was world lit, and it was fantastic--we had class every day for three hours, which would have been a drag, between the hot 50 mile drive (no air cond. in my car) to and from school down the two lane roads (I think you folks in the UK refer to them as "A" roads?), having to get up early during summer holidays (was also caring for my mum) and all that heavy duty studying. But we had a great prof, who loved this stuff and taught it in such a way as to make it completely contemporary for our understanding...we did the Oedipus Cycle (funny how human nature never changes, ey?), and Beowulf, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Terese Raquin, and...Hamlet! We read it, discussed it, and later, watched a film of it, and discussed it some more...it was really great--tough for me to get through, but I really enjoyed it--well, mostly I enjoyed it.

    Our tests in this class were mostly to be hand-written answers, sort of mini-essays, no easy tests with this prof--we had to prove that we were paying attention and knew our stuff. I got an A- in this class, and only then, by the skin of my teeth. Like I said, I really am not overly bright, I mean that truthfully. I really have to work my arse off to "get" stuff--'tho writing has always come pretty easy, everything else comes very hard--everything. Shakespeare doesn't come easy to me--sometimes I have a hard time wrapping my head around it--but gosh, don't I just love how he used his words...such majesty and beauty has never been used by anyone else in history to such effect. I just wish I could have taken more classes like this. Too bad it was the only one. I am dull, I suppose. Studying Shakespeare was something I'd always wanted to do, tho' I knew it would be a tough row to hoe, for me. Still, I at least got my wish, albeit, in a very small way...but, if I could only study one of his plays, I reckon I couldn't do any better than with Hamlet, ey?

  • A Bad poem by a Whovian

    Tardis-less

    Blue box
    Inside small screen
    Eager wide-eyed faces
    Wait. A faithful friend is gone 'till
    Christmas.

  • Guy's bottoms--now there's a cruise!

    I'd much rather be on a lake cruise or something, than telemarketing this afteroon--leaving in half and hour for work, work till half past five. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck.

    This Lake George cruise on the Mohican is my kind of cruse--check out the bums on these guys! :>> Never tried the para-sailing..too chicken..I can't swim, really.

    Yes, this is New York state--I lived in Lake George last year, and it's still only 15 or 20 miunte drive up the road from Glens Falls.

  • Dr Who: Time Lords Don't Cry

    Doctor Who: Time Lords Don't Cry, by N.

    CHAPTER 12: Facing His Demons

    The Doctor stood with hands clenched, head bowed. Pain etched itself on his features, and old and ancient pain, from so far back in his past, he’d thought he’s rid himself of it. “Nine hundred years,” he thought, ‘nine hundred years, and I still have to deal with this.” He swallowed and looked as if he was going to be ill. A full range of emotions rippling through him: shame, hurt, loneliness, sorrow, confusion, and the worst of all, fear. He’d thought, after all these years of traveling and trying to save the universe from itself, he’d run away from all this. But it came back in on him, right in his face, when he’d least expected it.

    Staring at a stain on the wall, yet not truly seeing it, the Doctor felt sick inside himself, he suddenly felt...old. Marie looked at him sadly. Getting up from the sofa, she walked over and took him by the hand. "Doctor? I'm sorry if I made you sad."

    He turned and looked at her. Finally, the Doctor understood the familiar sensations he got when he was near her. She was very much like he’d been once, and perhaps still was, in many ways. Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes. After a moment he said, “It’s alright, Marie." He sighed with resignation. A Daughter of Rassillon--as he was a Son of Rassillon--their ancient lineage, going back for eons of Time.

    The Doctor returned her squeeze. She was only half-Time Lord, so perhaps that's why he'd not felt her presence, before now--felt that intimate connection between souls, that only his fellow Time Lords could experience between each other. 'Well," he thought, scratching his neck, 'dear old Rassillon sure did get around.' He looked into Marie's worried eyes and smiled thinly. It wasn't her fault, and he'd no right to be upset with her. Squeezing her hand again, he said, "It's alright. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault--stuff happens.”

    He looked out the window at the night. A cousin, he had a cousin--or was she an aunt? What was this child to him, anyway?. Well, sort of a half-cousin, at the very least. He gave a resigned shrug and a slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He supposed if he could live through watching his world, his people all die, through losing Rose, he could get through this as well. Making a decision, he reburied his pain deep inside his mind. Then, he turned and held out his hand to Marie, smiling warmly. “Come on then, and give your Uncle Doc a nice big hug, eh? It seems that neither of us is alone any more.”

    A short while later, the Doctor and Marie were once again seated on the sofa. After a while Marie had gone back in the kitchen and put more hot water on for tea. Marie took a sip from her cup, and shyly looked over the rim at the Doctor. He'd just finished saying that he was wondering, where on earth her Uncle Tobias had got himself to. “They don’t like the light, Marie said quietly, “it’s when the moon was gone, that Uncle Tobias would come out of his room. I'd always hide. He doesn’t know about the tunnel. I found it by accident.” The Doctor raised an eyebrow and took a sip from his cup. “Yes, you mentioned something about that before, that they don’t like light. There are only just so many creatures that fit that description.”

    “Creatures” Marie shuddered involuntarily, "What sort of creatures?" "Well,” The Doctor said expansively, “There’s vampires for one. And there’s the Storm Dwellers, the Shadow People, the Nightlings, the Aphoticals, the Mogs, the Kritchets, the Nockwogglers, and let’s see, oh--about a few hundred more that I can think of…not very many at all, in the scope of the universe. Let me think. He cocked his head at her. What do we know, so far, eh, Marie?” He said, looking at her expectantly.

    Marie bit her lip. “Ummm--they don’t like light, they kill people, ummm--I’ve seen the blood, from the animals, but the bodies disappear. First it was the chickens, then the goat, then, today, the cows and...and…” She looked away and tried to hide her hurt. He felt her hurt--not just imagined it…truly felt it. Inside himself, and he wasn’t sure how to take that. Hesitating only a fraction of a second, he reached over and hugged her again. “I know, really I do.” He drew back and looked thoughtfully at her. “Hang about, what was that you said before, about a tunnel?”

    Marie pointed towards the kitchen. “I found it, one time, when I was moving the old ice box in the corner. I’d dropped a recipe card behind it. There was a trap door underneath. I think it is very old. I remember my teacher at school once, talking about the Underground Railroad being around here. That’s when they hid slaves running away to Canada, back before the Civil War. Maybe it’s from then. I don’t know.” The Doctor was about to reply when a movement outside the window, stopped him.

    Without warning, one of the dogs began barking, followed by the other two. Then, they all three yelped in terror, and were suddenly silenced. The Doctor got up swiftly and crossed to the window. The sky was black as pitch. The moon had gone in. The Doctor smiled grimly. “Ah. I do believe Uncle Tobias has finally come home.”

    LINK TO ORIG. VERSION OF THIS CHAPTER: http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=7193&chapter=12

  • Someone Get me outta' this Country!!!

    George Bush, that Baptist church in Topeka, the right-wing Supreme Court, college students who believe there's 51 states, flag-waving Americans who don't know anything whatsoever about the history of their country, democracy or how to walk through a car park safely, no health care, people who actually believed that Sadam was responsible for 9/11, Fox News, Rush Limbaugh, Paris Hilton, Beavis and Butthead, Jerry Falwell, rednecks, yuppies, rednecks...Get me the hell outta' this country!!!

  • Dr Who: Companions R Us

    I was just chatting online with a few of my