wheresmycow: (sherlock03)
It's 8:25 am right now and it's miserably dark, damp, and freezing. I like it. Thinking of breaking out my Who scarf later tonight for class.

In other news, Sherlock series 2 now has an airdate! "A Scandal in Belgravia" airs in the UK on New Year's Day! *snoopy dance*
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Ugh, all that wangst yesterday -- so embarrassing.

Here's some exciting happy smithereening instead:

(wow, hey, a BBC video that's NOT region-locked!)
wheresmycow: (sherlock03)
I had no idea that this was in the works. I hadn't even given a thought to Rurouni Kenshin in years save for the odd guilty one about this, but I have to admit I'm terribly excited over this film.

Eeeeeeeee! *flappy-hand chicken dance*

(The guy playing Sanosuke appropriately looks like he could cut you soon as look at you. I'd've cast the guy playing Jin-e as Saitou, though.)

[Error: unknown template qotd]Oh, I don't know. Something fried. Bacon? Chicken? Human flesh?
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Last night I was Arya Stark. WHY. I also stabbed a giant goon with an arrow. Several arrows. Fucker wouldn't fall over.
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My Sherlock DVD finally arrived, thanks to my aunt who flew in from LA this morning:

The Philippine Bureau of Customs is one of the most idiotic and corruption-rife departments in the government. They once tried to extort charge me P10,000 in taxes for an iPod and the Criterion Collection Withnail & I DVD because "they were not declared as gifts" (which begged the question of who was supposed to declare them a gift anyway, my cousin Beverly or me? I was ready to scream "THEY'RE GIFTS!" right in the middle of the Customs office). Given the Great Book Tax Debacle of 2009, is it any wonder that sensible Filipinos avoid sending parcels by post as much as possible and instead choose to send home gifts and other packages through their expatriate relatives's balikbayan boxes?
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I'm not entirely sure how this happened, but I have developed an inordinate, ridiculous love for Merlin/Arthur modern AU fics. And I haven't even started on Series 3 yet.

Timshel, by ems
Merlin is definitely supposed to work for Arthur, but spends most of his time mocking Arthur's dress sense, berating him via IM with Morgana, sending Gwen capslock-filled emails about him and, most of all, trying not to fall in love with the shiny-shoed ponce. Arthur, meanwhile, is definitely supposed to be taking over his father's company some day, but instead spends most of his time scowling at Merlin, making lists about him, trying to find excuses to fire him and, most of all, trying to pretend he is totally not head-over-heels for the jumped up little upstart. Someone's got to make some difficult choices eventually, and this can only lead to one thing: angst. Or hilarity. Or, embarrassingly enough, self-discovery.

Note: Set aside a weekend for Merlin marathon.
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One of my favorite Flight of the Conchords bits. We've all had this sort of conversation before, hadn't we? Well, maybe not exactly this sort...

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I was doing my laundry and I turned around and got a faceful of fried spinach.

It was good. Unexpected, but good.

I wish my mother would stop these ambush force-feeds, though. She's like an overexcited Luftwaffe squadron jumping the gun on the Blitz.

(At least she's stopped looking at me as if I was about to keel over. I'm fine, Ma!)

Anyway. Today's Sherlock recs are two very well-done adaptations of the classic ACD stories "The Adventure of the Speckled Band" and "The Adventure of the Copper Beeches" by [livejournal.com profile] buffyaddict13:

The Adventure of the Spotted Ring, Part 1 and Part 2

"I was wrong," Sherlock said. "This is more of a two patch problem. We have several clues to focus on. The whistles, the fact Doctor Roylott doesn't want his stepdaughters to marry, the sudden house repairs, various homeless people traipsing about, not to mention Julia's reference to a ring and the fact Helen heard a metallic clang the night her sister died." He stabbed the air with a finger. "Maybe the noise was a shutter falling back into place."

"Or a murderous robot climbing down the chimney."

Sherlock looked at me, confused. His face brightened. "Oh. You were joking."

The Adventure of the Girl in the Attic, Part 1 and Part 2

Sherlock pushed himself into a sitting position. He pulled his dressing gown closed and regarded me with a look that said I was to be pitied.

"The days of my great cases are over, John. The criminal element has lost all ingenuity. Even Moriarty has let me down."

My eyebrows lifted. "You consider
that a problem?"

Sherlock ignored me. "Any day now,
The Science of Deduction forums will be rife with nothing but questions from hapless teenagers who have misplaced their iPods and mechanical pencils. From little old ladies who have lost their Siamese cats and reading glasses."

My friend's head rested on the back of the couch, he stared blankly at the ceiling. "I'm telling you, John. You are, right now, witnessing my final descent. I can already feel my brain atrophy. I am in the depths of endless boredom and despair."

He was certainly in the depths of
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I can't stop watching The Thick of It and In the Loop. All that profane yelling in thick Glaswegian accents, it's mesmerizing. And oddly hot.

And that's just Malcolm Tucker. Here's his assistant/second-in-command/feral rabid dog Jamie:

"You take the piss out of Jolson again and I will remove your iPod from its tiny nano-sheath and push it up your cock. Then I'll put some speakers up your arse and put it on to shuffle with my fucking fist. And every time I hear something that I don't like--which will be every time that something comes on--I will skip to the next track by crushing your balls."

That's a masterclass, right there.
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The visible signs of the rash are gone, thank goodness -- but my hands still itch something awful.

I really should catch up on the shit-TON of work I left moldering on my desk during the Week of Pain but I can't bring myself to start on them. BORED! Hang on, why do I NOT have a Sherlock BORED! icon? I must fix this.

Okay, TMI over. Let's have something more cheerful:

The Art of Scheduling; or, How Mycroft Came To Realize He Was Well and Truly Fucked by [livejournal.com profile] igrab. It suited him, and he assumed it suited her for she'd never given any indication otherwise. (Mycroft/Anthea)

(I DID wonder about what looked like a wedding ring on Mycroft's right hand in A Study in Pink. Like everyone else, I'd assumed it was Mark Gatiss's real wedding ring and he'd just shifted it to his other hand. And then I watched that behind-the-scenes special that came with the DVD and he had one ring on each hand. So...okay, this paragraph really had no point, then.)

Anthea had the most infuriating habit of looking completely innocent when she was at her very most devious. He sighed. "There are times I find myself pathetically glad to have you on my side."

"I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else, sir."

He had turned to go, but that made him pause, and look back over one shoulder. His brow furrowed and he considered, once more, her motivations - her apparent lack of them, to the point of not even wanting a present to celebrate her date of birth. "You really don't, do you," he murmured, but it was more to himself than anyone else, and when she looked up, distracted, her eyes clearly seeing numbers and maps and far more important things than her somewhat astonished boss. It was simply a statement of fact, something he'd known for a long time but perhaps didn't fully understand until this moment.

This, here, was what she wanted. This life. His life, as a matter of fact. She'd played him like Sherlock's violin and that was all the present she'd needed.

(Maybe I should just put all these recs together in one post next time. ...Nah, I like sharing the stuff I like as soon as I find them.)
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Seriously, I've been sick for almost a week; I'm stuck in bed with my laptop all day and I've run out of TV episodes to watch (except for Project Runway -- come on, little internet ninja pirate hamsters, where are you?). What else could I do?

Aptronyms by [livejournal.com profile] elapsedspiral. Mr Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson are characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; Mr Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson are the unfortunate sods named after them (AKA a rather strange AU of 2010 Sherlock).

One of the most vivid memories he had from his childhood was of opening a copy of "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Even now he remembered pouring over stories of thieves and crooks, villainy and deceit. He also recalled a lot of service revolver use and trap doors. At the heart of every story there was the sleuth himself, Sherlock Holmes, and his loyal companion John Watson. Sherlock, he remembered reading, was a tall dark-haired man with an eagle-eyed gaze and a hawk-like nose. He had a habit of being bitingly sarcastic and generally very witty. Watson, by contrast, was a long-suffering but brave and dependable man who balanced his detective friend's less appealing traits well. And together, he recalled, the pair had solved impossible crimes and gone on amazing adventures.

He had hated every single page of those books and the reason was readily understandable. It was, after all, somewhat unnerving at the age of seven to read that he was, apparently, a master of disguise, of the martial arts and of identifying soil types. It was very alarming to read how he fell down a waterfall in Switzerland and that he had an arch-enemy. People surely didn't
have arch-enemies.

And so at age seven, Sherlock Holmes came fully to appreciate how big a pair of prats his parents were for naming him after a fictional detective.

And the ENDING! Oh god, the ending...I laughed so hard I started coughing for about five minutes afterward. IT'S A HEALTH HAZARD.
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Why yes, I am using my off-sick days to trawl for Sherlock fic.

It's Not The Violin, by [livejournal.com profile] sam_storyteller. Somewhere between Alejandro and the fistfight, John Watson became someone Sherlock Holmes would kill for.

Sherlock smiled a little, turning to him. "Anything you'd like me to play?"

"I don't know anything about music," John said. "I wouldn't know what to ask for."

Sherlock nodded and put his chin back to the violin, testing its tuning for a second before ripping into something fast and oddly familiar --

John burst out laughing again. "Is that Lady Gaga?"

"Is it? Is that artist or title?"

"Artist," John said. "How are you playing it without knowing what it is?"

"I heard it in a shop," Sherlock replied, managing to shrug without losing his place in the music. "It's not precisely subtle, but I suppose subtlety for the masses is overrated."

SHERLOCK PLAYING LADY GAGA ON THE VIOLIN. That alone is worth the price of admission. (It's not the only reason you should read this fic, though. It's the best fic depiction of the Sherlock-and-John bromance I have ever read.)

Bonus video: Bad Romance on violin (viola?)

Lady Gaga really works on strings, I see.
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1. Padding by [livejournal.com profile] basingstoke. (Sherlock/Black Books) A shocking attack of bibliophilia.

"I WOULD LIKE TO PAY YOU ONE THOUSAND POUNDS," Sherlock said loudly and clearly.

Bernard silenced. He sat in the desk chair. "Manny."

"Yes, Bernard?" said the blond man.

"I grant you permission to sell this man a book."

"I think he wants more than one, Bernard!"

"ONE BOOK!" Bernard screamed.

2. Space Oddity by [livejournal.com profile] emmyangua. (Sherlock/Life on Mars/Ashes to Ashes) Sherlock Holmes was hit by an explosion in 2010 and when he woke up it was 1983. Gene Hunt isn't ready for a new DI yet, and doesn't know what he's in for.

"I don't know where you think you're going," snapped Gene. "But there's an empty desk out there—" a couple of empty desks, he thought bitterly, "and the scum of London isn't going to catch itself."

"But you're the police. It's your job to look into disappearances."

Our job, Detective Inspector," said Gene coldly.

The man stopped. He spent a moment delicately fishing about in his pockets and retrieved a warrant card. "Detective Inspector Sherlock Holmes," he read. "Metropolitan Police."

He closed the warrant card, replaced it in his jacket, and then—to Gene's surprise—laughed long and hard.
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*incoherent with mad, mad glee and pleasure at how awesome it really is*
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In deference to [livejournal.com profile] alto2 I will limit my reaction to the finale to just four words.

Holy. Shit. Kleenex. Alert.

I fucking cried, man.
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LOVED IT. Am so very, very, VERY pleased Rory is NOT the tin dog.

Spoiler alert! )
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A super spoilery thought AND VIDEO CLIP from the new Doctor Who series permiere, "The Eleventh Hour". Click at your own peril.

A more coherent and comprehensive review is percolating right now but I just had to get this particular thing out of my head before it ate up all my other thinky thoughts. And yes, [livejournal.com profile] runefrancisco and [livejournal.com profile] peripathetictoo, lots of Amy Pond thoughts for you. Anyway.

Aaaaaaand...there he is. )
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  • GET OUT OF MY HEAD JEREMY BRETT! I can't read Sherlock Holmes/John Watson slash without giggling like a prize idiot. Not because they're bad -- some are quite good -- but I developed a concrete picture of Holmes and Watson from reading all the stories and this picture keeps intruding into my carefully-constructed-yet-dangerously-fragile head-bubble that is the 2009 movie!verse. I can only (provisionally) accept Holmes/Watson when they're RDJ and Jude Law.

  • I'd like to say that I have no horse in this race, but I used to watch both Conan O'Brien and Jay Leno pretty regularly when both their shows were being aired here on cable, and I realize that I'm for Team CoCo. He's much funnier, and it's obvious who's being really screwed over here. Gawker has all the sordid details of this riveting bitchfight between rich white men.

    (for some odd reason I also have vivid memories of Leno vs Letterman 1992.)

    (also, jeez, why the fuck am I caring? Craig Ferguson FTW)

  • Oh, of course! IT'S ALL ABOUT YOU, ISN'T IT?* Speaking of bitchfight, Kris Aquino's gone loco again. Her brother, presidential candidate (and all-around wet noodle) Senator Noynoy Aquino, has asked that people give her and husband James some privacy. Hard to do that, Noynoy, when your baby sister appears on Private Conversations with Boy Abunda to appeal to James to get his act together and help save their marriage. All this, by the way, while tearfully airing all the dirty laundry at the same time. The woman just lives in a self-absorbed bubble, doesn't she? I would say that her mother is probably spinning in her grave, but Cory had to deal with 25+ years of this shit. The poor lady deserves her rest.

    *Galaxy Quest, ILU.

  • Tick-tock, tick-tock. Still need a concrete idea for my final term paper in grad class. I've got a one-on-one powwow scheduled with the prof on Thursday in Makati, can't show up half-assed. Thing is, I still don't have much of a grasp on what the class is really about.

  • Er, Um. So there's this guy. I think his friends are obliquely setting us up. Or having a joke at my expense. Possibly both.
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There will be an annular eclipse tomorrow from 3 p.m. to 5 p.m. Manila time. [livejournal.com profile] runefrancisco tells me to hide my eyes and avoid the triffids.
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YM transcript between [livejournal.com profile] quinnzap and [livejournal.com profile] wheresmycow, 30 Dec 2009, 12:05 AM
Re: Doctor Who: The End of Time, Part 1

HIM: timothy dalton is a time lord
HIM: maybe that's where old bonds go when they stop being james
HIM: they become immortalized time lords
ME: If so...then Sean Connery's Ramirez (Highlander) is in fact a renegade Time Lord?
HIM: yeah, that'd explain a lot of ramirez's behavior, if you think about it
HIM: bizarro dude that he is
ME: James Bond: Where Fandoms Collide?
HIM: and didn't the disowned highlander 2 movie refer to a misbegotten planet that they all hailed from?
ME: So...there can be Only One (Time Lord)? IT ALL MAKES SENSE
HIM: oo no
HIM: kaya dapat decapitation
HIM: to prevent regeneration

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