House is home
Jun. 15th, 2006 10:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bending_sickleToday I bought eps 1 and 2 of House, MD's first season. With the newspaper. For 4.95 euros.
Bet your newspapers don't do that.
Last Sunday I got Rebel without a cause for free with the newspaper.
Bet they don't do that either.
:)
Seriously, though, this was a one-time-thing, because buying the whole season would get kinda expensive. But omg not-dubbed House. And you know what? I think, with horror, that I just might like dubbed-House's voice better.
Please don't hurt me.
It's on a lower register, is all. I'll try to rectify.
However, Australian accents are wonderful.
In other news, my french exam results are due the 27th, my german level exam is the 21st and I have no idea what I'm doing with the postgrad thing again.
Because I talked to my brother*. Apparently, checking out the states is no longer a good idea, because I've been out of the loop for a year and I'm a foreigner (there) and that means less chances at funding. He says to check out Europe, Holland/Netherlands**, like mom says.
So wtf, I say.
I sent him my list of 14 universities in the USA and he says he'll check out some stuff for me. So he's occasionally uncaring and selfish with very harsh advice, but he does try to help me out sometimes.
Which is nice, I guess, if he could just stop making me wibble.
In yet other news, here is a post about narrative voice. I've written a bit of Hero's Manual. Also, I wrote some more*** of that utterly random series of drabbles I've been messing with. So follow the cut for :
“Oh thank god you’re home,” she said, rising from the window seat. “Jay’s been at it all day with that guitar.”
Steve glanced at the sofa where Jay was sitting, holding tight to his lent guitar.
“Not all day,” he mumbled.
Ruth gave an exasperated huff and leaned on the back of the sofa. All day, she mouthed.
“And a good day to the two of you,” said Steve with a grin as he set his keys down. “Have you at least been doing more than chords?”
“Yeah, whole songs too.”
“Singular,” interjected Ruth.
“Don’t listen to her,” said Jay, smiling as Ruth ruffled his hair affectionately. “She won’t listen to me,” he added.
Ruth leaned close and gave him her best imitation of a Russian gangster. “If you keep this up, we will be forced into a very compromising position. Your little guitar friend will be the first to go.” Jay gasped exaggeratedly and looked pleadingly at Steve. The other man shrugged and unbuttoned his shirt. “We will make you watch, pretty boy” Ruth finished, kissing him affectionately on the cheek.
Jay smiled and strummed his guitar. “As long as you think I’m pretty.”
“Move over for a tired man,” said Steve as he sat beside Jay on the sofa. He leaned back, stretching an arm over the younger man and giving Ruth’s arm a soft rub. He gave a deep sigh and closed his eyes. “You going to play us something tonight? That one song you’ve been playing to death, for example?”
“It’s going to need more than cardiac infusers, mister,” whispered Ruth.
“Hey, it’s getting there.”
“Think you might be able to get Jay to relax a little? He’s in his ‘prepare obsessively’ stage.”
“As soon as I can move again, china-doll,” muttered Steve amidst the sofa cushions.
The three were quiet for a while, Jay idly picking the guitar as Ruth watched over his shoulder. Steve seemed dead to the world until he opened his eyes. “Bath.”
Jay silenced the guitar. “Hm?”
“Bath,” he repeated. “Gonna take a bath.” The determination in his voice failed to be reflected in his actions. He closed his eyes again with a groan. Jay picked up the song where he left off.
* Who, coincidently, finally picked up the phone yesterday and told me he'd just been talking to mom (about me) and was very busy. He said he'd been planning on calling me tomorrow, which is today. I jokingly said, "Well, you can call me tomorrow", as in, let's talk now and you can call me tomorrow and we can talk then, too. What he said? "Sure, great, bye." Argh!
** What's the diff?
*** I was supposed to write the pwp slash bathroom scene, but, as is my wont, ended up writing the prologue instead. Damn you, smut muse! Where are you?
Bet your newspapers don't do that.
Last Sunday I got Rebel without a cause for free with the newspaper.
Bet they don't do that either.
:)
Seriously, though, this was a one-time-thing, because buying the whole season would get kinda expensive. But omg not-dubbed House. And you know what? I think, with horror, that I just might like dubbed-House's voice better.
Please don't hurt me.
It's on a lower register, is all. I'll try to rectify.
However, Australian accents are wonderful.
In other news, my french exam results are due the 27th, my german level exam is the 21st and I have no idea what I'm doing with the postgrad thing again.
Because I talked to my brother*. Apparently, checking out the states is no longer a good idea, because I've been out of the loop for a year and I'm a foreigner (there) and that means less chances at funding. He says to check out Europe, Holland/Netherlands**, like mom says.
So wtf, I say.
I sent him my list of 14 universities in the USA and he says he'll check out some stuff for me. So he's occasionally uncaring and selfish with very harsh advice, but he does try to help me out sometimes.
Which is nice, I guess, if he could just stop making me wibble.
In yet other news, here is a post about narrative voice. I've written a bit of Hero's Manual. Also, I wrote some more*** of that utterly random series of drabbles I've been messing with. So follow the cut for :
“Oh thank god you’re home,” she said, rising from the window seat. “Jay’s been at it all day with that guitar.”
Steve glanced at the sofa where Jay was sitting, holding tight to his lent guitar.
“Not all day,” he mumbled.
Ruth gave an exasperated huff and leaned on the back of the sofa. All day, she mouthed.
“And a good day to the two of you,” said Steve with a grin as he set his keys down. “Have you at least been doing more than chords?”
“Yeah, whole songs too.”
“Singular,” interjected Ruth.
“Don’t listen to her,” said Jay, smiling as Ruth ruffled his hair affectionately. “She won’t listen to me,” he added.
Ruth leaned close and gave him her best imitation of a Russian gangster. “If you keep this up, we will be forced into a very compromising position. Your little guitar friend will be the first to go.” Jay gasped exaggeratedly and looked pleadingly at Steve. The other man shrugged and unbuttoned his shirt. “We will make you watch, pretty boy” Ruth finished, kissing him affectionately on the cheek.
Jay smiled and strummed his guitar. “As long as you think I’m pretty.”
“Move over for a tired man,” said Steve as he sat beside Jay on the sofa. He leaned back, stretching an arm over the younger man and giving Ruth’s arm a soft rub. He gave a deep sigh and closed his eyes. “You going to play us something tonight? That one song you’ve been playing to death, for example?”
“It’s going to need more than cardiac infusers, mister,” whispered Ruth.
“Hey, it’s getting there.”
“Think you might be able to get Jay to relax a little? He’s in his ‘prepare obsessively’ stage.”
“As soon as I can move again, china-doll,” muttered Steve amidst the sofa cushions.
The three were quiet for a while, Jay idly picking the guitar as Ruth watched over his shoulder. Steve seemed dead to the world until he opened his eyes. “Bath.”
Jay silenced the guitar. “Hm?”
“Bath,” he repeated. “Gonna take a bath.” The determination in his voice failed to be reflected in his actions. He closed his eyes again with a groan. Jay picked up the song where he left off.
* Who, coincidently, finally picked up the phone yesterday and told me he'd just been talking to mom (about me) and was very busy. He said he'd been planning on calling me tomorrow, which is today. I jokingly said, "Well, you can call me tomorrow", as in, let's talk now and you can call me tomorrow and we can talk then, too. What he said? "Sure, great, bye." Argh!
** What's the diff?
*** I was supposed to write the pwp slash bathroom scene, but, as is my wont, ended up writing the prologue instead. Damn you, smut muse! Where are you?
