1. Watched Sherlock
last night. I am: as desperately in love with Martin Freeman as ever, simultaneously creeped out and enthralled by Sherlock himself, and annoyed with Moffat for a) being occasionally completely amazing, b) being occasionally completely infuriating, and c) DISTRACTING ME FROM BOTH THESE
QUALITIES BY STEALING FROM HIS OWN DAMN SCRIPTS
. AGAIN. And Princess Bride
, but that's a rant for another entry.
2. Will probably see Inception for the fourth (4th) time tomorrow, officially making me the craziest crazy in the bunch. (In my defense, I've only actually paid for the movie myself once. As if this makes me somehow less nutty.) The awesomeness of that movie increases tenfold every time you watch it. True story.
3. As you may or may not know, I live in fear of meeting famous people I admire (see: the time I met Laurie R. King/Alice Hoffman/Henry Winkler and shamed myself and my ancestors through sheer dorkitudinal enthusiasm) but I work in a fairly swank store in a city that's seeing more and more action of the filmic sort, so I was somewhat prepared when I met GINA FREAKIN' BELLMAN
yesterday. I kept my insanity under control until I was ringing her up, and then I said, "Sorry, I don't mean to be obnoxious, but I'm a huge Leverage fan." She just sort of blinked at me, Britishly, and said, "That's nice. We're almost done filming." And I said: "Cool." And then we talked about organic cotton baby carriers.
I did not ask her if she thought Stephen Moffat was a misogynist, but it did occur to me.
4. Will someone please throw things at my head until I finish this fic? I have hit the Misery Point. (Definition: The point at which a story, which was such a delight to begin, turns into actual work that requires actual effort. The Misery Point.)