A town called turkey

I don't normally do this (in the four months I've had this blog), but I'm gonna review 'A Town Called Mercy'. It was awful. Singularly awful. Unforgivably awful.
Not only was it not funny, it was unfunny: the parodical elements were nothing less than cringeworthy ('I'll have a tea, but the strong stuff; leave the bag in'- I wanted to thump him) and the only good line was 'his name's susan and he wants you to respect his life choices'; the rest of the horse thing was just a rip off of 'I speak baby', which was slicker and came first.
The plot was ridiculous- it was meant to be a moral dilemma, but it just wasn't. They should've just let the doc die at the beginning. Yes, he'd done some good, but as the doctor said, you don't get to choose your justice- and as the cyborg said, the victim does get to choose. Amy's logic 'Are you gonna hunt down everyone who's built a gun' doesn't work as an argument because guns aren't sentient- the doctor wasn't angry because the doc had built a weapon, it was cos he altered people against their will. The doc even ended up killing himself (and where did that come from?), rendering the entire thing pointless.
Overall, it was boring and overwraught and didn't have enough in it to last forty minutes. I expect more of Doctor Who, and honestly it's a shame that this was one of Amy and Rory's last episodes- they didn't even need to be in it. They did bugger all. Shame on whoever wrote it.

Could do better

So, I'm officially on spring break! Woo! Spring break! I feel like such a frat boy.

So very frat.

These last few days of term have been somewhat uneventful, hence the lack of updates (because I am certainly not one to get hung up on minutiae). But I feel I need to update y'all before I head out this evening. Because, yes, your beloved wizard is heading out on a small trip, to Phillip Island.
If you google it, or if you're Esmond, who happened to be with me when I discovered what was on Phillip Island, you'll know why I'm excited. I'll give you a hint:

Ladies.

Last time, I spectacularly failed to photograph the little blighters, and apparently you're not allowed to take pictures on Phillip Island, but we'll see how we go: you may yet get a snap of a Fairy by mine own hand.
This trip will be taken in the company of messieur Jason, and a bunch of his friends who I've never met. We'll be driving in a car and staying in a hotel together, so this should be interesting at least.


Driving a rental car with a bunch of strangers across a penguin island called Phillip; what could possibly go wrong?

In other news, I went for lunch in the queerspace, which is where the theory session from Tuesday was held, in case you can't put two and two together. It was fine; the conversation was less intellectualised, which was appreciated, but also less focussed, which was not. I got invited to a party, which I don't think I'll be attending, due to a sudden case of the penguins, but it was nice to be invited- the guy even gave me his number (though he gave it to everyone else, lessening the impact).
And finally, although the lunch thing has been the only real news, so more, and secondly, I got a very good mark on my Language, Society and Culture essay, so I'm feeling really smug at the moment.

Smug? Moi?

Farthers day

So, in the end I went to bed like a loser but woke up like a winner: to a breakfast of crumpets and an episode of Doctor Who.

MAS-TIC-ATE!
(Having watched last night's episode, I realise this looks less like a Dalek eye-stalk  than I thought. Alack.)

This was a very good start to the day, by anyone's standards. 'Cept maybe Manthy's- chick's allergic to wheat. *cough*loser*cough*

I then went on to complete an assignment which had been looming over me like a particularly academic albatross. I had Aspen proof-read before submitting it for assessment, and I feel we grew closer as friends because of it.

Your days are numbered, Logie Bear.

I then went for a delightful traipse around the park in the sunshine while discussing what I should do for my 21st; the top suggestion was the beach and a bush walk, and maybe camping- you know, true Aussie stuff.

This was the runner-up suggestion.

Don't worry, Dan, the brothel is still under consideration as well. Especially if it's an aussie-themed brothel.

I just wanted to use this picture again. Sorry for the implication, Patten.

Also, happy father's day, dad- apparently it happens in September here.

Time flies by in the city of light

I just realised that I have now been here eight weeks. That is 2/13ths; this doesn't seem like much until I think about how quickly the time has gone, and suddenly I realise that I'm not gonna be here much longer. I have similar realisations on my birthday. Makes a guy think, you know?

In other news, I took some random pictures yesterday. There was of a massive pile of sawdust that was just sitting outside Yarra, not really sure why:

They were preparing for the biblical flood of vomit. Duh.

Pretty sure it's in the disabled parking spot.

And then there was a dalek eye stalk in the wall outside the rowden white:

PRO-CRAS-TIN-ATE!

Sadly, Declan was not on hand to see all the head I kept when I spotted that Dalek or the incredible skill I displayed in talking at it then running, so my future as the next companion is still not secured.
P.S. Who else is stoked for doctor who on saturday? I may well stay up until four o'clock just so I can watch it live online. I mean, no. I don't do that.

Adrian has expressed his willingness to come to the great barrier reef with me, which would be sweet. Jason has gone to the Great Ocean Road this weekend, and I really wish I could've gone too, but I have an assignment due and he didn't really invite me. At all.

Which is fine, cos he looks like this.

I'm also starting to entertain ideas about what I'm gonna do for my 21st, and suggestions now include: a brothel, the zoo, drunken laser tag, drunken science museum or a brothel.
I say why pick and choose?

Two drifters, off to see the world

Another piece of evidence that the Rowden White natives are starting to accept me as one of their own: I was given a free mars bar with my headphones and PC this morning. Spiffing.

I actually managed to beat someone at a sport this weekend- and not just anyone, either. It was Adrian, who owns multiple sports shirts (which somehow make him look kinda like the knave of hearts).

Go Dropbears!

Admittedly, the game was air hockey, which, granted, hasn't made it into the olympics quite yet, but I'm pretty sure it involves hand-eye co-ordination or something. So, go me.

This weekend also saw the largest party I have ever managed to gather for my evening constitutional; an entire six people! This was mainly due to the alcohol the other five had imbibed, which made the stroll feel a bit more like taking the family's pack of inebriated, hyperactive dogs for a walk, but it was still a pleasant evening.

The pliant one is now in the great white North, which feels odd. I was already half-a-world away from him, but now he's not even in the place I left him, not unlike my house keys; if I was to go back now, he wouldn't be there. I feel like Andy in Toy Story. I don't know why, cos that doesn't happen in those films. I just identify with him on a base level, I guess.

Above: Esmond and me, I guess.

Anyway, I'm now listening to 'When Somebody Loved Me' from Toy Story 2, and it's bumming me out so I'm gonna go. I have more adventures scheduled with the doctor this evening; let's hope it's more The Unicorn and the Wasp than Love and Monsters. 

The most pithy

There have been several hints today that I'm becoming, how to put this delicately?, acclimatised to the Rowden White. For example, all the computers now suggest my username in the drop box on Google (thankfully they do not suggest my password). Then, not only did the librarians immediately recognise me and remember my preference for PCs over Macs, but they even made a joke about my propensity to forget to pick up my card at the end- silly British guy. And, finally, to top it all off, when I typed 't' into the address bar, it immediately suggested 'TV Tropes' and then a list of all the tropes I've researched in my continuing battle to discover why life is less interesting than webcomics.
*Sniff* I feel so wanted!

In other news, I'm now part of a weekly writers' group that meets on Mondays, led by the eleventh doctor.

A deleted scene from 'The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe', and indeed, the only bit where anything actually happened.

I think I'm at the forefront to become the next companion, being by far the most British, but there is a pretty Indian girl, and, affirmative action being what it is, it might be time to bust some kneecaps. And maybe dig out the bowtie Rosie made for me.


What else? I've become a minor celebrity in the ole Yarra due to my laureate-worthy musings; the upside, lots of people have told me I have a real talent and should write a book (so tempted to direct them to Darkwater library). The downside? Someone, who I don't know, came up to me in the kitchen yesterday and told- not asked, told- me to recite the same poem. I mean, I know I'm amazing and all, but try and control yourself, people.

P.S. Dan, your tree is coming- keep a weather-ear to the ground.