sab: (torch >> sex can save your life)
Or to quote for the millionth time this review I read, which described Torchwood as "easily the best show about a bisexual time-traveller standing on various rooftops in Wales."

So, I'm re-watching the Torchwood season premiere, "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang," which is the one with James Marsters.

(It's also important to note that I'm watching Torchwood because I had to stop watching David Tennant hosting the Friday Night Project, because it nearly KILLED me. Clearly it, like the Tennant Video Diaries, is the sort of thing I will only be able to watch in very very small increments, BECAUSE OF THE EXPLODING. His mouth! His hair! His...all wiggly and throwing his head back and laughing! Fanfic! Underpants! Although, to be fair, the actual late-night variety show part of FNP isn't really his milieu. I mean, he can give a monologue and record some sketches and wraparounds and whatever, but you just get the feeling he should be off doing Shakespeare somewhere instead OR NAKED IN MY HOUSE.)

Anyway, where was I? Oh, right.

Leadership.

*clears throat*

First, if they're trying to make John Barrowman look LESS queeny, setting him against James Marsters isn't really the best way to do that. Mostly you just watch Marsters snarl and cock his guns, and wait for Barrowman to burst into song.

under no circumstances let him kiss you! )
sab: (Default)
I been around the block a couple times this year; lost a car, got a car, lost housemates, got housemates, lost money, found money, la commedia continua &c!

This holiday season, my Shoemoney Girls are off in the snowy mountains, and I am alone in la ciudad de los angeles, avec mon chat noir. But I remain the luckiest, as [livejournal.com profile] wearemany and [livejournal.com profile] fmangel are my own chosen family, and I miss them and love them and our house and our joint bank account and our hypochondria and our writer's room and our family meetings and our chore wheels and our big gay singalongs. Shoemoney Haus in '07; apres moi, le deluge!

But now, tis the season for [livejournal.com profile] samdonne to be here with me, piled in blankets, eating pumpkin pie, watching L&O marathons, writing fic and debating this postmodern existenZ. Every year circa the holidays I get lucky enough to have a regalo del Francais show up on my doorstep, and then it's two weeks or two months of lattes and snuggling and crime shows and discourse. ([livejournal.com profile] fialka, N. got me hooked on Eureka. But you'll be happy to know I returned the favor and now she's hip deep in Bones.)

Tonight, if we're lucky, we'll get visits from the ghosts of Christmas [livejournal.com profile] lizlet and [livejournal.com profile] thassalia, and perhaps we'll pile on the couches and ring in the New Year, writing-style. (Which is to say, mes amis Anglais, who among you will be providing tonight's Torchwood before midnight PST, so we can watch the last Cap'n Jack of Ought-Six? With [livejournal.com profile] fluffyllama on holiday, my world is rocked! Rocked, I say!)

Tonight, if I'm lucky, I'll party online with [livejournal.com profile] kormantic and [livejournal.com profile] runpunkrun, and we'll toast the New Year with pancakes up and down the coast. Oui?

Tomorrow, we'll reveal Yuletides and I'll tell you a tragic story about a cat, and I'll send beta to Dawn and Punklet, as promised, and it'll be 2007, the year everything changes, and you gotta be ready.

I had a Doctor Who dream the other night, where an alien ship invaded, and the US sent a fleet of sekrit spaceships (all Galaxy-Class, FWIW) to meet it in orbit. But instead of blowing her outta the sky, we simply said, "hi, aliens. You're the first extraterrestrials we've met. We're new at all this. Could you come back in ten years when we've got a better idea how to deal with you?" And they said SURE, and they LEFT, and a happy holidays was had by all.

And so for you, my Christmas present to [livejournal.com profile] lizlet, who asked for Jack/Hand and got Jack/Ten/emo!hand instead:

[I really can't stay (Jack/Ten, Jack/Hand, Ten/Hand?)], a Torchwood/Who fic about Ten and Jack and the folks in the Hub, and the Hand. No sex, wankworthy or otherwise, just good old-fashioned gen about a boy and his hand-in-a-jar.

Bonne nuit! Bonne annee! Une annee sans lumiere! Une annee avec les yeux sensibles! Une annee avec touts les chats du monde! Une annee avec ma petite [livejournal.com profile] samdonne, sur le lit, comme mon petit chat, avec moi! C'est magnifique!

2007: It's Got To Be Better Than 2006

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