the nomness

See, this is why I hate watching television as programs are actually airing. This right here. I know I’m due a write-up on the last episode of House, but quite frankly I don’t even remember when that was. It sure wasn’t last week and it sure as hell isn’t tonight. Ok, ok, so it’s next week. But it makes me crazy. I have one ep to watch from two weeks ago and now I want to make it last. You people and your live broadcast viewing, you are going to be the death of me I swear to god.

In the m[e]antime (and yes, it does appear that moving south has broadened my scope for MASSIVELY LAME PUNS], The Thick Of It is back and not before time. The new series is officially being called Series 3 though I suppose that makes the two Specials the whole of Series 2? Whatever, it’s fucking brilliant, all of it. Everyone’s back so far except crossest-man-in-Scotland Jamie, and this will be quite upsetting to Effbit as he was her favorite. Really, there was no way she was getting anywhere near my Scot so she had to find her own. Fair enough. If I wasn’t already so enamored I’d probably be all over him as well but them’s the breaks pally. New minister is a lady who’s just as conventionally unemployable as all the previous ministers, so par for the course. Somehow it seems that Ollie has become even younger, and HotScot has become even hotter. Also, he used the phrase “lady bollocks” in Saturday’s ep and that’s just the greatest thing ever. I wish I actually lived somewhere in Great Britain so I could drop some of these lines in conversation without sounding like a complete asshole but oh well. A laymee can dream (and she usually dreams of this):

C’mon Effbit – I defy you to find fault with this man right here.

And I’m not alone. There’s a lovely section over at The Guardian featuring reviews and talkback for each episode (among other backstage insidery pieces) and I’m not the only one drooling over Malcolm Tucker. Ok, so I’m one of three, but still. I think I could take them. Actually, I should talk with some of them because I still can’t quite put my finger on what it is about him that rocks the boat, yet doesn’t tip it over. I know Effbit can wax rhapsodic all day long about her pretty manboy and we can go back and forth on Rickman all day long (btw, we *need* to fully explain the ARRF bit one of these days, yeah? i think some fans would appreciate), but when I send her pictures of Capaldi saying “oooh look at the pretteh” and she comes back saying he reminds her of her man’s mother….well, I’m at a loss. Perhaps more disturbingly this is not affecting my lust in any way shape or form, though god help me if I ever actually meet the man’s mother. A-W-K-waaarrrdd. I fear I’ll start swearing at her in my worst Scottish accent and pacing fiercely.

Also, it just occurred to me that I think I’ve referenced ‘other things to talk about’ quite a few times in earlier posts. I suppose it makes sense to actually scan those and then explain them. Trust me, there’s some fucked up shit in there, ARRF chief amongst them. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Btw, Aiming Low, sounded like a fucking blast and I wouldn’t be Laymee if I were actually in attendance with all the other cool kids. But I wasn’t. So I am. Laymee. Thank you. I still vote that you Effbit, JJ, & STY fucking kidnap Jordan for some fun time west of the river. Mayhaps the ‘Boke?

Dear Diary

I fucking love Halloween.  It may be my favourite holiday.  So WHY is it that I’m so painfully behind in my Halloween planning this year? (Read: haven’t started it)

In keeping with the Halloween spirit, I am working to the background home-office screening of Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd.  This may or may not have anything to do with one Mr. Rickman’s rendition of Pretty Women. Also, it’s just gorgeous to look at.  (As is he.  Mr. Rickman, that is.  Who, shamefully, didn’t make it to the afterparty for the film’s NYC premiere.  For shame, I say.  I was disappointed.)

Ah, Tim Burton.  Thank you!  I am so ready for this film.

This is the second Alice in Wonderland trailer I’m posting.  Yes, obviously, there are my lovelies in this film (thank you, Mr. Burton, for being dependably generous in bringing together my favourites).  Roll on, 5 March, 2010.

Speaking of premieres and screenings, I have procured a ticket to the NYC screening of New Moon.  I get it.  I’m a 30+ yr old dork in expensive shoes who squee’s and gets a little gay about sparkly, emo vampires who play piano.  The slagging I get IRL is cruel.  I tried to keep it in my pants for as long as humanly possible, but then, my gays were getting a hard time about reading the books, and me, Captain Rescuepants, had to step in and out myself.  So, I deal with the eyerolls of my ENTIRE local bar when the New Moon trailer is shown on TV as I go ninja fighter to get the remote from the bartender to turn up the volume.  I’ve accepted the scoffing and am ultimately ok with the situation.

So there was absolutely NO hesitancy at all in jumping to the online ticketing site a snarky little bird directed me to.  GOD BLESS YOU, Mr. TWITTERMAN.  Fuck all the haters, Twitter is my lifeline these days.  Both for work and, well, obsessing about nearly teenage man boys.  I will be in attendance with the ever lovely, just as clever in the flesh, original denizens of Twitardia.  I’ve pimped their site hard in the past, and am very happy to do so again today, as last night I had the distinct pleasure of spending the evening knocking back a couple few cocktails and housing the hors d’oeuvres at the Aiming Low event here in NYC.  It was a good time, and honestly brilliant to meet fellow lady bloggers.  Did you know that chick bloggers dig hot guys?  Who knew!?

Before you ask, yes, Jenny Jerkface is afuckingdorable. Honestly, sweet dress and shrug number, hot tights, and a redhead.  And SnarkierThanYou is tall and honestly gorgeous.  And nevermind they’re from NJ. They can do Manhattan just fine, unlike others (college roommate from sophomore year, I am looking at you.  I am looking at you and trying desperately not to vomit in my mouth, but I am looking at you).  I think it’s been determined that  we are going to have to do this again.  Possibly semi-regularly.  It is shocking how much we have in common.

There's this...

and….

then there's this...

and obviously this…

Pfffft, yeah, sure, it's Kristen Stewart who wants it, right? Whatever.

I mean, seriously.  I have this newfound (this is one word, isn’t it?  The Mac doesn’t seem to think so) respect and actual desire for the southern accent.  And I have not seen anything remotely nomable as of yet.  I mean, I will say this – there are some Texans with amazing eyes.  Male, female, I mean, I’ve seen a few that are nothing short of remarkable.

This. Perfect example of what I was looking forward to in Texas.

I have thus far seen eyes of this caliber walking around in a few women.  Much to my ex boyfriend’s disappointment, this does nothing for me.

I have 2 days more in Texas, though.  We’ll be on alert.  Not to worry.

ORLY?!?!? Which design genius thought up this phallic chef d'ouevre?!

In closing, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I call out to you: “Texas, bring it.”

Your food?  Absolutely FABULOUS.  Snow’s BBQ. If you live within 400 miles of Lexington, TX and you have not been then you should have your Texas citizenship (practically another country down there) revoked.  Honestly.  I will be dreaming about this meat.  I am comforted in the knowledge that they deliver around the country.  Today, we are off to sample something called “migas.”  I have no idea at all what this means.  Laymee is nearly vibrating with enthusiasm, so we’re going to pick up and go for “migas.” Pardon me while I mosey.

First test posting from the über phone and…uh, yeah. Not much to say except, to quote Effbit, “When the 90’s became retro, I became old.” I’ll add that when the 90’s became retro, my knee started acting up. Sadly, seriously. Kinda awesome. Flannels in the store? I’m so going home to be pissed off with my off-center bowl cut. Except not. Effbit’s damn-near primary function on this visit is to sort out this mess on top of my head. Perhaps the vintage 90’s cut is in order. Because you know, I miss looking like pre-unplugged Clapton.

In the car!!! In Texas! And I’m blogging. This may be deleted (as per my previous blog from NJTransit hell) but I thought it was worth a try.

Rest easy, gentle readers, I am not blogging and driving. Safety first of course. I am riding copilot on our way back to Austin and a night of debauchery.

I leave you with this: this trip will be documented. Stay tuned for more. Also, if someone could please explain to me the Texan fascination with red shagging pick up trucks that would be great. Kthanxbai. Irish in da dirty South, over and out.

I think Cameron did it.

There, got that out of the way. I was actually expecting more fallout from last week’s murder-that-might-not-be-murder. I’m still not so sure about it all. Maybe it’s just that, knowing Cameron is leaving, I keep looking for the mechanism that propels her ass out of dodge. Chase not coming home at night? Lame. I mean, not lame lame like Laymee lame, but it has to be more than that.

POTW – eh. Cute kid, believably crazy rich dad (or rich crazy?). Not sure what they’re gonna be doing with Thirteen and I kinda don’t care because we all know she comes back. She has to, right? Unless she takes her trapezoidal head to Malaysia for keepsies and I’m not betting the farm on that one. And where the hell is Taub? Where in the goddamn hell is Taub who is now my favorite of the new flock and has gone away like a bastard don’tyaknow? Again, I’m choosing to stay unspoiled so maybe I’m the only one who doesn’t know he’s gone for good, but DAMN I hope he’s not gone for good.

What else, what else…I like Cuddy’s longer hair and the bizarre “checking to see how things are” bit that seemed to exist solely for her to flash the girls all up in House’s face. Which I have zero problem with. I love love love the eyedip, and he gives good eyedip.

This ep seemed very much a standalone, edging back into the normal swing of things ep, not too entirely memorable an ep. And that’s ok. We need journeyman eps to make the special ones stand out even stronger. And speaking of, I was earmuffing it during the promo for next week and when checking to see if it was over, I saw Foreman react like he’d seen a brain jump out of someone’s head and start doing calisthenics. Next week will be LANDMARK because Effbit will BE in Texas to watch this nonsense live with me, so if there’s hopping brains we will be SO ready for them.

Still don’t know when it begins airing but for anyone who’s around BBC2 for the remainder of the month, do keep your eyes and ears open. I’m all a-flutter from the evil half smile at the end.

Also, and I swear I’m only looking at the man, but sometimes it’s best not to stare directly at teh pretteh. You can see more that way. And what do I see now but DAMN dude, boxers much?

I know soon is a relative term but relatively soon Effbit & I will once again be in the same geographical region, the same state, and eventually the same bar (undoubtedly). Effbit is hitting the big time Big Tex style, YEEEHAAAWWW! Ok, sorry about that. I’m much more excited about the Effbit part, not so much for the Texas bit but whatever, beggars and choosers and all that. There will be State Fair and corny dogging it up, there will be some serious Granny fried chicken, and there will be a proper introduction to the town I’ve lived in now for almost 7 months. Holy crap it’s been a minute. HALP. We’re also taking a side trip to New Orleans to visit MY OLDEST FRIEND IN THE WORLD, who is my age (for all you clever kids who know I’m down with the geriatrics…IT’S NOT THAT KIND OF OLD). There’s some shit that’s been flying around in the air for far too long and that shit is gonna go DOWN.

I’m a wee bit excited. My pre-Effbit grocery list contains the following: booze, tea, & cheese.

It is so on.

And also also, once all these shenanigans have been shanned and I’m alone again (naturally), my new favorite greatest show ever will be picking back up with new episodes airing on BBC2. The Thick Of It begins airing a new series of 8 sometime towards the end of October. Now, I don’t actually get BBC2 but I am confident I can finagle something in the way of viewing this future masterpiece, for I refuse to be separated from my sweary hotscot dreamboat for longer than it takes some enterprising young Brit to rip and post. If I could watch the show live when it airs, I would, just as I would buy the original series and two specials on Region 1 DVD if they in fact PRODUCED SUCH AN ITEM. Ahem. I know it’ll happen eventually, just not fast enough for my liking.

Please please please, let me, let me, let me, let me, get Malcolm Tucker on Region 1. kthxfuckityBYEEEEEEEEE

It’s been a while since I’ve done an “oh shit, it’s the day after and I’m still rocking a decent buzz” post, so here goes. I find I’m most creative when I am not particularly focused on any one thing. And this was really a 4 day bender, so let me throw that out there as well.

I met my first online type person Thursday.  Was a fabulous time. Many, many, many bevvies of the boozy variety were had, and I wasn’t hacked up in little pieces.  All in all a success, in spite of the psycho Norman Bates-type who followed us from Sweetwater to Diamond, and then, in his drunken mumble-speak, asked if I would like to “go hang out.”  Like then and there.  He wanted the Effbit, and it was uncomfortable and awkward.  I may have laughed.  In his face.  Yes yes yes, I am kinda bitchy.  We know this.  Anyway, the experience was overall a pleasant one and is definitely opening the door for other meet ups – Jordan, of KSWI fame, I’m looking at you.  I’m staring down my eurasian nose at you.  Seriously.  We can make this happen.  I mean hell, I posted that dog-sports player thing last week.  That’s gotta count for something.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand, I took a blog break.  And I’m sober.  Huh.  Look at that.

I like me a literate man. Also, mildly obsessive and a little emo. What.

Fear not, loyal reader(s), it is Monday. I will go and have sushi and possibly some japanese beer.  Or sake.  Or both.  Followed by a sangria.  The possibilities are endless.  As is, I’m discovering, my interest in younger men.

I'm really ok with this smirk. I'm also discovering, after last night's charming bartender, that I have a soft spot for a lilting southern accent. I am ok with this too.

Very often we have an image of ourselves that isn’t necessarily projected to the outside world. Not all of us, mind, but some of us. Take for example my friend’s friend, let’s call her Emma. Emma gives the impression of being of the All American Fantasy Doll. She’s blonde. She’s blue-eyed. She’s a lovely figure. She has beautiful teeth (these may not be a god-given gift, but we’ll go with it). She smiles at the right times. She’s able to keep it in her pants when it comes to silliness or flightiness. What you don’t know, about Emma, is that she has a DARK DARK DARK sense of humour. I have found myself liking her more and more of late – apparently this side of her doesn’t come out unless she’s comfortable with you.

Which brings me to my point. We, the thinking women of the media-heavy generation, for the most part, have a Dark Nom. These don’t necessarily HAVE to be sinister.  Some people include my dear Alan as their Dark Nom (when your nom is along the lines of Matthew McConaughey I can see this point, I guess – but not really.  Matthew McConaughey makes my ovaries die slowly and painfully, so, then there’s that).  I’m going to venture to include another “darker” character, very often idolized by those denizens of dark places: the goths.  Enter, Neil Gaiman.

He writes. He writes darker fantasy. Lord knows I have darker fantasies.

I’m going to be careful about what I say about Neil.  He has a hyper-public relationship with one Amanda Palmer.  I admire her goodself in her own right – I challenge you not to love “Who Killed Amanda Palmer.”  It’s a brilliant album, and I’m sure the book is quite phenomenal as well.  I have not been able to bring myself to read it, however.  My voyeurism does have its limits.  You see, Neil wrote each story to a collection of photographs of a “dead” Amanda Palmer.  The collaboration is too much after the tweets.  And the blogs.  And the You Tube videos I watch – while my voyeurism has limits, it is still, after all, voyeurism.  So, Neil, I fancy the pants and the pen off of you, but I am going to have to throw this one on the back burner.

And then, of course, there is that vampire thing.  The wave that’s hit the hormones of hundreds of thousands, dare I say millions???, of ladyfolk around the world.  There always was the sensuality of the classic vampire.  It has lain latent until recently, when pop media has picked it up and ran with it.

Dark dark dark.  Am I complaining?

No.  No, I don’t believe I am.

Outstanding patient of the week. Wow. Mugabe comes to Jersey. Unbelievable. Or rather, incredibly, just believable enough. If I had any purchase in the production world of House I’d say congratulations all around for some extraordinary work, but not having any and saying that just makes me sound like a tremendous douche so I’ll stick to the hotness.

I can’t quite decide which of the blonde wonder twins grew a relatively bigger pair last night but my guess is they won’t be battling about it for long.

Last night’s anticipatory TV schedule felt so much like junior high that I was tempted to look forward to Kate & Allie. Starting with House, followed by Lie To Me (and I had just enough presence of mind to avoid next week’s teaser. go me), then a brief field trip for sustenance, back in time for Letterman and Steve Martin (who rocked the chair with his hot socks and tortoiseshells), and ending the evening with Craig Ferguson. Oh. My. God. A friend told me she was crushing on him a year or so ago but I thought nothing of it. Oh. My. God. She should’ve elaborated. I truly don’t think this is feeding off my #1 hotscot (although they did know each other in Glasgow) (hee, I’d die for pics). Ferguson minces around all over the place and somehow it’s not annoying. How is this possible? Not only is it not annoying, it’s CHARMING and fucking ADORABLE. Incredible. And he’s on every weeknight!? There go my early mornings.