Much as I loved the first nuTrek film in 2009, I have grown weary of it now. In fact, so weary am I of the whole rebooted concept, that I couldn't give two figs for the new film out in a week or two.
Or so I thought.
I took one look at this new poster and knew that I had to go and see Star Trek Into Darkness for this scene alone!
A moist Karl Urban as "Bones" McCoy is enough to get me all hot under the collar. I may have to join him in that shower in an attempt to cool off...
Remember I told you that my sister Indescribable is pregnant?
Well, I did (see last post).
And not only is she pregnant, she's very pregnant. And at noon tomorrow, when there is sure to be a media circus, the whale gets shipped out.
Ahem... Inadvertantly paraphrasing Gillian Taylor in Star Trek IV there.
Anyway, I went to see her a few days ago, and, amongst other things, she told me that she was going to make a chocolate cake for her husband's birthday on Sunday. I could scarcely believe it! Normally she's so lazy that she gets me to do it. But not this time. Hooray!
Or so I thought.
It turns out she really is lazy. So lazy, in fact, that she deliberately increased her blood pressure to get herself induced on Thursday night so she wouldn't have time to make the cake, leaving me to do it after all! Honestly, the things people do to get out of doing something else.
So, after rushing out to get the required ingredients, I shall be slaving over a hot Apocalypse Oven this morning then decorating the blasted cake this afternoon. Bang goes half my weekend.*
Bugger.
* Probably literally if Inexcuseable's Apocalypse Oven is anything like my old one was. Wish me luck.
Right. Now that we've made the first tentative step from over the Cusp and back into Blogworld, we'd better keep the momentum up so that we don't stall again.
Let's get on with it then, shall we?
OK, OK! Don't rush me!
* sigh *
I suppose I should let you know some of what's kept us away before we dive headlong back into this blogging lark, having at it as if we've never been away?
Firstly, I think the horror of winning The Freakin' Green Elf Shorts again may have had something to do with it.
Then there was my separation from SP back in September, followed immediately by insinuating ourselves into Inexcuseable's (and her husband's) modest castle. Castlette? Pied-à-Castle?
Recently, we've been contending with the imminent expulsion of Indescribable's demonspawn from her foetid womb, and SP's departure from this mortal realm for somewhere more... satisfying, I hope.
Oh, and then there's the more mundane (and sometimes, more horrifying) reasons:
- Commuting 2.5 hours a day to & from the Host's place of employment.
- Contending with six months of shitting winter!
- Reading.
- Genetically engineering more aerodynamic flying monkeys.
- Contributing to (and getting lost in) Memory Beta.
- Tolerating Inexcuseable's three cats.
- Squeezing in televisual treats such as Criminal Minds, The Middle, Modern Family, Grimm, Futurama, Alphas, Harry Hill's You've Been Framed, Being Human, In The Flesh and even Glee!
- Avoiding buckets of water and falling farmhouses.
Anyway (Piggy's favourite word), enough of me reeling off excuses perfectly cromulent reasons for not blogging, as I know some of you saw mention of The Freakin' Green Elf Shorts and will be beside yourselves in anticipation of the compo. Fear not, I shall be hosting it very soon as I want rid of the despicable things!
Now, be off with you as I have things to attend to.
Behold! To celebrate/commiserate my return to blogging, I bring you the magnificence of orange and silver, together again* for your eyes only.
T-shirt supplied by Wet Dog of Cromer
Oops! Perhaps I should have warned you to wear your Fabulous Shades™ first? After six months of winter, my skin has a certain whiter-shade-of-pale glow to it. Just be thankful I didn't post the photo I took when I was outside. Think ski-slope on a sunny day: Blinding!
Oh, yes, before I forget: I haven't grafted HAL onto my neck in place of my head - That's my camera.
* For any newbies and those who have managed to eradicate the brilliance/horror of my first foray into high fashion, click here.
