I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

1. Are you wearing perfume or cologne right now?

Nope, haven't bought any of that stuff in months.

2. Who is your idea of the ideal man?

Russell T. Davies

3. Who is your idea of the ideal woman?

Tie between Audrey Hepburn and Doris Day.

4. A. Your cultural heritage?

American. My late mum's family's been here (I think) since Jamestown Settlement, or the Mayflower or since New Amsterdam times, or some such palaver--English, Irish, German, Dutch, and possibly Scots...those that came after are all mostly natives of New York's mid and upper Hudson Valley, and the Schoarie/Mohawk river Valley's, as well.

My grandparent's on my late dad's side, came off the boat from Poland/Austria, onto Ellis Island, in the 1900's some time.

B. Any odd family tales you want to share?

One of my more distant ancestors was allegedly shipwrecked and eaten by his shipmates. Seriously. It's in a New York history book I own.

5. Shoes you have on?

Wool socks, actually.

6. Your weakness:

blogging, I've become a shameless blogger I'm afraid

7. Beer or wine?

Neither, prefer gingerale or juice if I go to a pub/bar.

8. Like to cuddle?

Never had that issue come up--well, my cats have cudddled me, and mum when I was wee.

9. Last sweet you had?

Last night I had a berry float--that's two scoops of strawberry ice cream in a glass, with some gingerale (ale, not beer) poured on top of it, and topped with a bit of whipped cream.

10. Last time you visited the hair salon/barber?

May.

In this clip from the taping of the Series two commentary for New Earth, a beer-swilling David Tennant seems fixated by Cassandra's wonder-bra. I've no doubt that Tennant must go commando under his kit a lot--imagine it's a real time-saver, ey?

Merry Christmas all!

I was sitting here, at 3am, polishing off chapter three of my stupid Dr Who story, and then set about the tedious task of copying and pasting it to my Wordpress blog.

Finish pasting, and find that there's this huge gap between each paragraph, like triple spacing--when I am using double spacing. So, I fix it--then find, that although Wordpress shows i have proper double spaces between my paragraphs when I'm setting up the page, when I look at the finished page...NOW, I have NO paragraphs at all! This free Office software sucks--okay, it's free, and it's it's better than nothing...still...what a bunch of palaver I have to go through!

Well, the boys upstairs have finally stopped partying, so i can go to bed...I've also suddenly developed an arthritis attack-mostly in my left wrist, and i can barely move it--it's not fun typing, let me tell you. Time to quit for now.

Is he a Time Lord, or just another alien on the make?

Apparently, the 2-part climax of the 2009 specials will be quite the thing, with a slight suggestion that things hinted over the past four years or so, will be possibly explained..and, that RTD may shock fans with something utterly unexpected, possibly something where he might "go to far," with the story line, risking losing loyal fans in the process, perhaps. God, I hope not. I don't mind the far-out stuff sometimes...but if he's going to do something really daft, like show the Doctor having sex in the Tardis, or something that's gonna' mess with my head, or be totally implausable, or screw up my suspension of disbelief, than I really will ditch the show I've adored for the last 25 years.

Why the hell do people think they have to shock you to get you to watch television? I live in reality. I've been shocked for real, scared for real...I don't need that rubbish in a show that I watch to ESCAPE reality.

Well, as Mr. Davies says, it's not written yet, so maybe he won't surcumb to temptation and just write us a straight-forward script without all the shockers aimed at the dull and unimaginative.

Which do we have strongest memories of? Do we have stronger memories of hurts, slights and hates, or the golden glow of joy and love, serenity and blissful surrender?

It's easier I suppose to hate, as opposed to love, to remember a debt owed us, rather than a forgiveness given. I think we most hate that which we most fear, the darkness within, that we don't want to acknowlege we may harbour deep in the recessess of our own souls.

There is a time for everything, a time to hurt and to heal, and a time for change. But, sometimes time seems to stand still, and hover just out our reach. I am trapped in that infelxible grasp of stagnation. I don't know how to free myself, don't know how to move forward--not sure I have the energy any longer.

I measure my life these days, not by the ticking of the clock, the passing of the days, the years...but by changes, good or bad. And, when there are no changes, when the status quo flatlines, time stands still for me.

I am not playing any Christmas music tonight. Instead I'm playing a great driving song, 'cos I'd rather be away from here, in a car, driving through the countryside tonight. Screw global warming.

The teenage brats upstairs are having a party, and they're all, apparently, bouncing off the walls upstairs like a bunch of hyperactive little monkeys on crack. So, for the next four, or five, or six hours--or more, I'm gonna' have a mess of heavy THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP's, and BANG-BANG-BANG's on my ceilings, not to mention the giggling and laughing and all that shite....have I mentioned that I HATE where I live? Get ready for my Victor Meldrew impression: YOU BASTARDS! How bout you leave the stinking ceilings in one piece!

Can't they ever go somewhere else to play? Why me? I swear, if I were rich, I'd feed the cats, make sure they were all cosy, then book a hotel room for the night, just so I could get some f'ing peace and quiet!

And, I woke from my Christmas eve nap, with a sore throat..and now I'm sneezing...another stinking cold again? If so, this'll be the third round for me, since blinking October.

Yeah, another miserable stinking Christmas eve. Just shoot me already.