Nobody Knows Anything

Welcome to Diane Patterson's eclectic blog about what strikes her fancy

Doctor Who vs. the Blood Elves

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The kids’ obsession recently has been World of Warcraft, to the point where they were continuously fighting over who got to play. “You played last! It’s my turn!” “No, you played! It’s mine!” (This is how they play: they start a character, do all the intro quests, lose interest, start another character. Sophia has shown great fortitude in getting a character all the way to level 15.) So, finally I came up with this rule: Sophia was born on an even day, so she plays on even days; Simon was born on an odd day, so he plays on odd days; only Mommy gets to play on the 31st.

And this plan, almost unbelievably, seemed to work out just fine.

My current obsession has been Doctor Who. The third season has been playing here, and I love it so much that, while I can pass on watching anything until a few days have gone by, Friday night I am right there in front of the TV. (Albeit, after it’s TiVo’d—can’t stand commercials.) I have recently become so into it I a)joined NetFlix (nope, hadn’t been a member before) and b)queued the first two seasons to watch at home. I’d never seen any of the Christopher Eccleston ones, and we missed about half of season two.

The day my first NetFlix movies arrived Sophia had a friend over, and they were off playing in her room, while Simon stayed with me. He, of course, wanted to play World of Warcraft, but it wasn’t his day. So I said, “Hey, wanna watch Doctor Who with me?” We snuggled on the couch and I put the first disc in. And it was hilarious—FTW: “If you’re a space alien, how come you sound like you’re from the North?” “Lots of planets have a North!” (Eccleston has a northern British accent you could cut with a chain saw). Simon thought it was the greatest thing ever.

The next day Simon said, “Can we watch another one?” and Sophia said, “Another what?” So she sat down to watch the Doctor and Rose get into various messes.

The day after that, when I got home with the kids, the first thing they asked was, “Can we watch another Doctor Who?” No one mentioned World of Warcraft. It was somewhat blissful. Of course, now my DVDs have run out and I have to get the next set post-haste.

But when the Doctor’s in the house…no Warcraft! Yes!

Your BSG post of the day

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Via, of all things, First Draft: Things I Am Not Allowed To Do About Galactica

1. Not allowed to refer to Samuel Anders as “Mr. Kara Thrace.”
* Not allowed to refer to Major Adama as “Mr. Kara Thrace.”
* Especially in front of his wife.
* Not allowed to suggest to Major Adama’s wife that she “do the cheating frakhead one better” by joining me in the rear cargo bay after hours.
2. Not allowed to refer to Admiral Adama as “Mr. Laura Roslin.”
3. Not allowed to spell Colonel Tigh’s name “T-G-H” and claim “the Cylons took the I,” as it is cruel and not remotely funny.
* Okay, so it’s hilarious. It’s still cruel.
…
36. Not allowed, under any circumstances, to ask President Roslin who died and put her in charge.
37. The time has passed for the joke about the Cylon, the pyramid team, the elevator, and Ellen Tigh.
* Or any of its variants.
38. There is no such thing as “recreational gun use.”
* No, not even if Captain Thrace did it first.
* Oh my gods, especially not if Admiral Cain did it first.
* Not allowed to mention Admiral Cain. Ever.
39. Captain Thrace is not a pre- or post-op ANYTHING.
40. Not allowed to utter the phrase “Save a Viper! Fly a pilot!” ever, ever again.
…
373. I cannot plug my laptop into Hera.
*Even if the battery is about to die.
*I cannot “borrow” her to replace my Viper battery.

374. If I see Gaeta glaring at Colonel Tigh, I cannot offer him a pen and “see what happens.”
*You can poke an(other) eye out with those things.

375. A glower from the Admiral cannot be alleviated with an offering of Metamucil.
376. The Admiral, The Vice President, and the President’s relationships cannot be explained by substituting in characters from “Dawson’s Creek.”
*Likewise regarding Lee, Dee, Kara, & Anders and the show “Passions.”
*I am not a soap star.
*I am not a porn star.
*I am not allowed to ask Anders or Apollo to costar in any video ventures.
*Captain Thrace and Major Apollo’s relationship may also not be explained by “OK, imagine if Han Solo slept with Luke Skywalker.”

377. “Awww,” is not an acceptable reaction when the President and Admiral walk into a room together.
*The same goes for Baltar and Gaeta.
*Or Tigh and Cottle.

Superbad: the review

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I hated this movie. So, just in case you think the praise is universal: tisn’t. At 10 minutes in, I considered walking out; at 45 minutes in, I actually asked Darin if I could go meet him in the bookstore later on, and he asked me to just hold on for a little bit. Which I did. Next time: bookstore.

I disliked one of the main characters. I hated the plot. I hated the resolution. I liked bits with the cops…but they went on forever, until they’d definitely worn out their welcome. I liked Michael Cera (the tall lanky one, from Arrested Development) — that kid has quite a future ahead of him, but the rest of the movie was ugly enough to make me want to throw something at the screen. The guys who wrote this movie (who are, like the main characters, named “Seth” and “Evan”) clearly hate and/or fear women. Women solely as fuck objects evidently starts early and for some guys never, ever changes, especially when they get in a position to make a damn movie.

I told Darin that if this movie bears any relationship to the real world, I’ve moved past wanting to home school them and will probably just smother them now, to avoid the pain.