It is well known that I am a curmudgeon. I AM FANDOM'S CRANKY OLD MAN. Which I think is how bluejeans07 and I came to make a bet.

It is a bet that involves spoilers for the second part of End Of Time (not specific, general, regarding a death; I have no Real Spoilers) and thus under a cut it goes.

( THE BET. )

The loser shall draw (her) or write (me) something that the winner requests. As she is a lady and I am a gentleman I'm sure we will be able to settle who won in an amiable fashion. And I feel that in the end everyone will benefit from this!

But I'm also sure I'm going to win.

*shakes fist* bluejeans07!!

PS I am watching the QI episode with David Tennant in.

Jesus Christ that man loves his velour, doesn't he?

Not that he's not working it, but David, I beg you, as I begged Gareth David-Lloyd to take his hat off: expand your textile choices. Embrace wool. Embrace corduroy. Embrace tulle for all I care, just please, allow your velour some off-time.

God, the pressure!

Ok, three things about Doctor Who: ( The End Of Time )

3a. I wanted to say something positive about the episode, but I wasn't that into it. I did start to talk about gnosticism and the "broken vessel" but that's not really the case here -- any comparison of this plot to that concept involves twisting them both.

Basically there's nothing I can say outside of spoiler cut, so ( back under the cut... )

Well, I am home again!

The family is on the road, taking it safe and slow in the snow. All my stuff is either in storage down the road or in my apartment. I'm sitting in the FANTASTIC HIDEOUS ORANGE CHAIR which I will post photos of later if I ever move again.

My family loved their presents -- I got Dad Lucky a bull-riding Wii game where you can play as the rider or as the bull, and I'm pretty sure I know which one he's going to be. Mum got a CD from an artist she likes and a Christmas ornament of the Art Institute Lions. I was afraid Emmy wouldn't like the purse I got her, because it's Hello Kitty and she might think it was seriously uncool, but it is Kuromi (goth Hello Kitty) and she loved it to bits. So that's all good.

I've unpacked most of my stuff, and now I'm going to reward myself with a little internet time and some brand spanking new Doctor Who.

That is, unless R shows up at my door, as he has been threatening to do all morning. MAN HE WANTS BRUNCH BAD. I don't know why.

Adventur with Family! Fadventur!

I had no idea my fiftysomething parents would enjoy the Field Museum more than my fourteen-year-old sister, omg. My mum had to be led out of the gemstone exhibit after nearly exhausting herself at the special diamonds show that's going on. Not that Emmy didn't have a good time, mind you, but while Mum was sitting and resting with us, Dad Lucky wandered off and spent half an hour ooohing and aaahing at Sue the T. Rex.

Now we're back home, and it is still snowing outside, which is a little hilarious because Holstein The Wonder Chihuahua has never seen snow before and is very angry about it. We had to close all the windows or he'd just stand there and bark constantly. WHITE STUFF! FROM THE SKY! WHAT THE HELL GUYS? IT'S DANGEROUS! I'M WARNING YOU!

We are heeding the warning and staying in for the afternoon.

OKAY SO.

I am full of bbq sauce and beans and all manner of good things, and while I'm not going to do a full review of Sherlock Holmes I do have a few clarifying comments to make :D

1. Do not believe that you will like it just because I liked it. I hate 99% of all cinema so my tastes are weird. That said, I think most people who like Holmes canon and are flexible about canon interpretation will like it.

2. It definitely is a) fanfic on film and b) chock full of juicy slash. But it's awesome fanfic on film -- with nods to the canon and little quotes from it. And, at points, I am positive Robert Downey Junior was mimicking Jeremy Brett. Just to fuck with us!

3. NOBODY BE SURPRISED: Watson was always my favourite. It's nice to see, in this version, that he's a full-fledged person, a character with his own wit, skills, and desires, and the kind of person who can mentally keep up with Sherlock Holmes. It was also nice to see his flaws, from canon, made manifest in the film -- neither he nor Holmes are perfect heroes.

Not to spoil too much about the film, but a bit of a spoiler: ( 3a. )

We're only home for a few minutes before we venture back out for dinner, but I felt the need to inform you all that the new Sherlock Holmes movie is MADE OF FUCKING AWESOME.

I mean, they could have cut the fight scenes and I wouldn't have minded, but I say that about everything. Otherwise?

FUCKING AWESOME.

More later, after I am full of bourbon-glazed ribs and french fries. :D

I liked Wilf?

That was essentially 60 mins of buildup to a really bad pun about the Master race, Inorite? And women are all batshit when there's pretty, charismatic, powerful, evil mens to be resurrecting. Kind of like a coven. Crazy wimmins, they're all the same.

The Confidential is now telling me how wonderful Trinity Wells is. I think that's to distract me from the Evil Black People what were in the episode.

I didn't like it much, can you tell? It made no sense. At all. And I still don't understand why the Master can fly.

If this is spoilers then, yeah, sorry dudes.

Happy Christmas morning, all!

We have opened presents here, though we have not a tree -- we put them under one of the hotel lamps instead. :D It's been a very domestic Christmas -- I got a sheet set, an immersion blender, and Cooking Mama for the Wii, among other things.

bluejeans07 and I also have a treat for you this morning. While we didn't finish our 24-hour-comic within 24 hours, we did keep working on it, and about a week ago we completed it. We thought we'd keep it under wraps and unveil it on Christmas, seeing as it is about the holiday spirit and all. :)

You can find the entire Winterbook under the cut, or click on each image to get larger views. Enjoy!

(Me and my friend made a comic book!)

( The Winterbook: A Graphic Short Story By Sam And Jean )

For some reason a part of me thought the BBC might sabotage the charts or at least find some excuse to not have to play Rage Against The Machine as Christmas Number One on TOTP. Especially what with TOTP playing the number one just before The Queen being on. All in all, that was kind of surreal, guys.

AWESOME, though. FUCKING AWESOME.

Well, here in Chicago it's wet and nippy out, while the rest of the midwest is SNOWED IN JESUS CHRIST.

It's almost hilarious how Chicago news stations are treating it; they have people stationed at O'Hare to talk about how wet it is there. Meanwhile, in Oklahoma, you can't find your car for the snow.

Emmy pointed out that the local news font for "BLIZZARD" looks an awful lot like any other font's version of "BUZZARD".

EMERGENCY BUZZARD!

BUZZARD SMASHES MIDWEST!

DIGGING OUT AFTER THE BUZZARD!

I'm afraid we're going to have to abandon BUZZARD WATCH 09 in a few minutes, when we head out for a fancy Italian dinner. Hope everyone is having a lovely evening!

Have a good time, peeps.
*mwah*

I don't know why my mum lighted on The Nutcracker as something I needed early childhood exposure to. Possibly it was the only ballet she could tolerate. At any rate, every year, no matter where we lived, no matter that I have never seen another ballet and have no interest in any other, she would find a production of the Nutcracker and take me (and eventually my siblings) to see it at Christmas.

Tonight we saw the Joffrey Ballet do The Nutcracker in Chicago, and it is still FUCKING AWESOME.

I am not a huge ballet fan, but The Nutcracker is hardcore and you can't convince me otherwise. I love Drosselmeyer and the Russian dancers and the Rat King and MADAM GINGER.

I got the awesomest souvenir ever, too; we have several nutcrackers from previous years, but I've never seen one like this before.



HOW COOL IS THAT? I'm going to hang him on my computer at work or something.

Still alive!

I have managed to get my family in a cab, through the Art Institute Museum including the Apostles Of Beauty exhibit, into Terzo Piano (the super-swank Art Institute Museum restaurant), out of the museum, back into a cab, through the line at Starbucks, and back to the hotel without breaking anything. I WIN.

My parents have no clue how to cope with the winter-mix of snow and rain we're getting. To be fair, they're not exactly used to it.

Mum: Well, we're from Texas.
Cabdriver: I bet when it snows like this in Texas, the whole city shuts down.
Me: When it snows like this in Texas, the end is nigh.

I had what I think can only be called a MEAT SAMPLER, at Terzo Piano. It's a trio of small burgers, served with fries, but the burgers vary: one is shrimp with some kind of spice sauce, one is lamb with feta cheese, and one is beef with Wisconsin cheddar. It's a surprising amount of meat, and ridiculously delicious.

We're off to get some culture in us tonight, and then tomorrow we'll be building a Christmas Tree from cookies, possibly buzzing my place to pick up the presents I left there, and generally goofing off. It should be AWESOME.

Russell talks and talks and talks.

Notes:
A) Spectacular aerial dogfight? Really? I so don't want to see that.
B) I can hear his smug voice when I read things he's said and that's probably one of the things that makes me hate him so much.
C) God knows I don't like the Tories, but still. Does he have to have an opinion on everything?
D) He's really done a remarkable job, hasn't he? It's unbreakable now, the Whoniverse. Solid. What a good job he's done. What a great, great man he is. He's brilliant. He's fucking brilliant. It's a good thing he's aware of these things so he can tell us about them ad nauseam. That's what I'll miss the most. Every ten minutes in my magazines or on my telly or interwebs, there's Russell, telling me how fucking brilliant he is. I WILL BE SO HAPPY WHEN YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP, MAN. IT'S NOT EVEN RATIONAL ANYMORE HOW MUCH I HATE YOU.

Can I finally say this now? I've been waiting for years to fucking say it:

OI, RUSSELL. HERE'S A QUARTER. GO DOWNTOWN AND HAVE A RAT GNAW THAT THING OFF YOUR FACE.

There, I've said it. I feel a lot better.

It's Cchrrriiiiiistmaaaaaaas! (Think Noddy Holder). Because a) we have arrived home (by which I mean at the farm) for Christmas, and b) I've just watched Christmas TOTP2 and enjoyed hearing a great many festive songs, in most cases for the first time this year (I obviously haven't spent enough time in the shops lately). The roads are like glass round here! Which is giving everyone in Cumbria an ongoing topical subject of conversation for all occasions. I always think when I hear that expression that if the roads were made of glass, they probably wouldn't be that slippy (surely rubber tyres would grip glass quite well? Sorry, I'll stop now). Me and the boys made a festive delivery of Christmas presents to Jerry's Dad, only to find him still in bed at 11.30am. It has been a while since I visited him, and both he and the house have gone downhill pretty steeply. Although the hag stayed there over the weekend, she clearly did not stoop to doing any domestic chores (she never does - she has a cleaner at home). We had to pop next door to Uncle E for the key, and amusingly, Aunty S was out and he was watching some sort of naughty knicker channel on Sky when we arrived. It took him several minutes to realise that he should probably switch the telly off. I had to admire his interest at the age of 80 (though it was rather horrified and queasy admiration). The boys were already excited about Christmas, but since we got here they have cranked things up a few notches. I dread to think of what tomorrow will bring. Mam and I are considering going grocery shopping at Asda either very late tonight, or at 6 in the morning. I am hoping it will be the former option, partly because I had a couple of glasses of wine earlier which might help take the edge off. 

I woke up this morning and wondered why I couldn't move my arms properly. Had I slept wrong? Was I sick?

OH NO, I just took a cramp after moving a bajillion boxes yesterday. :D

We spent the evening in, watching Holstein decide that my shirt sleeves were evil and mocking the evening news. I also discovered that I left ALL THE PRESENTS I bought for people in my flat, so at some point today or tomorrow we have to go back to my flat, BRAVING THE THREE PERILOUS INCHES OF SNOW, to get my gifts for everyone.

In our family it's been a tradition since I was tiny that on Christmas eve you get to open two gifts, which are invariably a book and a pair of pyjamas, so you can read yourself to sleep waiting for Santa, and on Christmas morning you're in nice new pjs for present-opening. Last night, despite it not quite being Christmas, Mum gave me fancy new flannel pyjamas, and instead of a book I got a stuffed sock monkey.

Oh family. Never change.

Just a quickie.

As much as I feel sorry for the poor 2,000 people trapped on stuck trains under the English Channel but my peeled brown shrimps for Xmas starters are stuck on one of those damn trains. What am I going to do? How can I make potted shrimps without the shrimps? ( The vast repast is under the cut... )

Remind me never to start leaving comments at the sites of obscure Welsh newspapers. It never ends well, that sort of thing.

I know I've been saying this for ages, : JACK IS SO DEAD.

It's called the Immortality Gate, ffs.


ANYWAY: Contrary to what those crazy mousies at who_anon think, I am keeping calm about the PDF. I have no desire to blow up over it, it's Christmas. I will be saying one or two things about it soon, but not right now, I've got turkeys to baste.