Last Week, As Seen From One Day.

I had planned to take last weekend off, just catch up on some shows I wanted to see, maybe sleep late, but then the weather turned cold and I was faced with unread mail, things to burn to disks, and it ended up being a usual weekend for me. No, I didn't get to my mail, or those shows, or those disks. I made case art and PaintShopped some craziness for Fark.

Saturday, we watched Keeping Mum again, this time with my Mum, who guessed a glaring plot point right off the bat which, now that I've seen the movie from the very beginning, was bloody obvious. Doesn't take away from the wacky Britishness of it, and I still love it.

The Fifth Element ran on TNT all last Sunday, so that was frikkin' fabulous. I could watch that...three times in a row, I guess. Even though they cut most of Ruby Rhod's scenes to the point where they made no sense. Sad. I'm rabidly anti-prude when I happen to like the thing being censored.

We got The Confessor for Mum to see, and since I compared it to The Rosary Murders last week I've been feeling a bit guilty, because The Rosary Murders kicked ass and also had Jack White as an altar boy. Yes, Jack White who played Elvis in Walk Hard. He adds ass-kicking karate to everything.

One of the nights X-Files didn't run until sunrise, we found Don't Look Down, a Lifetime movie about a woman who goes crazy batshit every time she sees anything higher than, I guess, her own height, because her sister fell off a mountain at some point in the movie before we tuned in. Her "treatment" for this involves a guy who screams at her and her fellow group of people who shouldn't be near edges of things. Then, surprisingly, they all start jumping off things. Not because they couldn't handle the "doctor" calling them cowards that ought to die, but because of a serial killer! OOH. Brilliant. I'd recommend the movie only to people who need to see what it's like to go crazy batshit on the roof of a car park. Not fun, people. Also, it's a Clive Barker movie. That can be shown on Lifetime. This should be telling you all you need to know.

We lost Heath Ledger. I still can't believe that. We loved him, Nan's seen every single one of his movies, and I could say the same except it took me the entire length of A Knight's Tale to iron that blasted bedskirt that time. No bedskirt is worth that.

My mother's most recent Unna boot was put on too tight. During this same visit, someone in the medical profession was overheard telling someone in Urgent Care with migraines, "You need rest." I will spare you my vitriol over this, because the circumstances of Heath Ledger's death are still in my head, and will always be in my head, and honestly the rest of my week was taken up thinking about how sad Heath Ledger's death was.

I moved things around in the room that catches all our books and videos, because the boiler is being cleaned before it explodes again, and I refreshed the little paper inserts on some of the cases and saw with dismay that I'd gone over The Brothers Grimm. It was a damaged tape, and I planned to record it again. It's a good movie, you know.

Then my joints flared up, my head hurt in that special way it has to take me down at the most inopportune times, and the dog continued to go on a hunger strike over technology. The weather was too cold to go out with the cats and stare at the sky, as well, and that didn't help at all. Meh.

Last Week, As Seen From One Day.