I just started to watch the first episode of „Leverage„. It’s like Old School-“Mission Impossible“ meets „Spooks“, with a little Robin Hood thrown in. And it’s got Timothy Hutton.
This might just be the among the top-10 birthday presents I gave myself ^_^

I’m not sure where it falls on the official list of birthday presents. But that list is pretty awesome, in that it features a wide range of stuff from geekery to socially-approved (though possibly rooted in the Middle Ages) torture instruments…and a tick-vaccine.

Happyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappy !!!

(Look out for tomorrow’s episode, because *da dum* Needle Girl Returns)

Last night, I couldn’t sleep for a long time. I eventually drifted off to sleep after having looked at the clock about ten million times until 2:43 am.

But half an hour after that, our downstairs neighbour – let’s call him Joe, to make this easier – decided that he needed to watch TV. And he had either gone temporarily deaf, or he was too drunk to notice the volume, because it was loud. Really loud. So I lay in bed, at quarter past three in the fucking morning, tired and very cranky, while some ridiculously happy people on somebody else’s TV attempted to sell me useless crap. Seriously…it was loud enough for me to understand what they were saying, even though I didn’t want to.

I got up and did the Worst Irish Tap Dance Ever in the living room, in hopes of letting him know that I didn’t appreciate the shopping advice, but there was no reaction. Various thoughts ran through my head at that point: Doesn’t that guy have to go to work tomorrow? Why invent the ninety-seventh „totally revolutionary“ piece of plastic to help slice potatoes? Could Mum go down there and kill him/make him stop?

Somebody (maybe it was Mum, I don’t know, I was back in bed, with a pillow and my blanket over my head, groaning and cursing) must have made it stop eventually, because we got some peace just before 4 am. I heaved a sigh of relief and went back to project Sleep.

And guess what? At eight o’clock this morning, another set of neighbours, a concerned couple, stood in the garden underneath by bedroom, banging on Joe’s windows and yelling „Joe? Joe!!!!!!!?“ at the top of their lungs. Because Joe hadn’t come in to work.

So here I am…wide awake and in a very, very bad mood after a little less than 4 hours of sleep, with two thoughts running through my head:

1) It might be better if I didn’t see Joe today, or for the rest of the week, for that matter.
2) Was the world really waiting for an extra-special, 4-CD special edition, super special, platinum box set containing all those beloved (and special) hits by Marc Pircher?

…those ego-shooters most of the guys were playing at some point? The ones that most of the girls either watched or joined in, only to be killed within seconds?

They had that litte caption at the bottom, sometimes: „XXX is on a killing spree.“

Well, today, Deadra was on a shopping spree. I feel a need for that, sometimes. Beware, I’m armed with a credit card and I’m not afraid to use it *cackles manically*

I spent a ridiculous amount of money, and what makes it worse is that, technically, I haven’t spent it, yet. That’s the magic of the little, golden card. My bank account has no idea what’s going to hit it at the beginning of the next month. I would feel bad about that. But I don’t want to, because I’ll be getting so much STUFF!!! ^__^

Although…it has to be said. I might have an addicion…er…issue…with shirts. What is it with me and shirts? Why are there always so many pretty ones out there? Why do they throw themselves at me? Why do they whisper „You want me! You need me! You would look so good in me! You can’t possibly live without me!“ in my ears at night? They should do an awareness-raising campaign about that…“SHIRTS – JUST SAY NO!“ (It’s too late for me, but maybe others can be saved.)

…can be absolutely hilarious on rare (…and I mean finding a 4-leaf-clover, while watching Halley’s comet, on the way home from posting a jackpot-winning lottery ticket rare) occasions.

Because there’s gossip. And sometimes, gossip is fun.

When it turns out that during the more than 25 years that my mother has been living here, people have been firmly convinced that she’s very active in the church. Like*, going to church every Sunday and being a useful member of the parish. (If anyone who knows my Mum is reading this, they are laughing very hard right now.)
And just to top it off, there was th guy’s reaction when my mother told him that this wasn’t true: „Great! Now I can tell you dirty jokes!!!“ (People who know my Mum just fell off their chairs.)

But now I have to wonder what they say about me. Probably nothing, because I’m not officially here, and haven’t been for 10 years. In my more lucid moments, I am so very relieved about that.

* There! This! This is what happens when I watch MTV for ten minutes. My speech gets infected with The Like (TM). Aaargh.

Because Empire Magazine is celebrating its 20th Anniversary in style:

They created a painting with clues for 50 movie titles hidden in it.

Can you find all of them? I got stuck exactly halfway through, and now I’m taking a break. But I’m determined to find all of them…how about you try and beat me to it? ^_^