Hubby and I hung out a bit and then headed back downtown (no, I'm not singing it again) to see Elizabeth: The Glory
Cut for spoilers in case you haven't seen the movie and/or don't know your English history.
Cate Blanchett as Elizabeth overcomes the Spanish Armada, a giant wind machine and a costume/hair department that is clearly out to destroy her career. Even if the wigs are accurate, there is absolutely no good reason why she had to have at least one ridiculous thing tucked in, on or around said wig in practically every single scene.
There's femslashy goodness throughout, including the obligatory nuzzles around the bathtub scene, plus Clive Owen, yum-yum-yummy as ever playing Walter Raleigh with a nearly permanent smirk on his face.
Obviously Philip of Spain and the rest of the Catholics are the bad-guys, but even I found the portrayal of every single Catholic in the movie as a religious fanatic to be a bit much.
Also I thought it was interesting that Elizabeth was shown to have more faith in her fortune-teller than any Protestant bishop or minister.
I will say that Samantha Morton as Mary Queen of Scots kicked some serious butt, even though the real Mary was raised in France and wouldn't have had a Scots accent. Oh well. Her execution scene rocked.
And then we went home for dinner and TORCHWOOD.
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee. You go Tosh. Shagging a hot chick/alien. Reading minds Kicking ass. Getting a storyline. Moping over Owen? WTF?
You go Jack--not too much action this week, but melting me with the bad Southern Accent and all-around Jack!ness. "Thank you Quincy." Tee hee hee. And giving Tosh some solace (NOT ENOUGH) afterwards.
Still loving Owen. Still not hating Gwen. Ianto lovers, will someone get me some kool-ade already? Because you know what? SHUT THE FUCK UP IANTO. Even when he's just thinking I want to slap him silly.
Sunday morning, hubby and I cocooned and he watched Barrowman stuff with me. Keys to the Castle (thanks again hllangel,) Buzzcocks and 8 out of 10 Cats. I wrote some H/W drabbles, vegged out and went to the Mint for Karaoke.
One of those nights when there don't seem to be a lot of people in the bar, but every single one of them is singing, including Rockin' Vince and his famous 8 minutes songs. I did Hot Fudge (Robbie Williams) and A Boy From Nowhere, which I now count as a JB song, even though I have it on a Tom Jones disk. It's still a bit low for me in places, but channeling John definitely helps. My friend Bradley was there, a major HP smut fan, Snarry lover. We talked about the current mishegoss.
Speaking of, if you haven't see THIS over at ticcyyy's LJ, you should.
Hubby showed up around six to take me to Wodehouse Seafood for my pre-birthday oysters since he'll be working tomorrow night. Absolute BLISS. Damn I love me some oysters.
Went home and watched Sin City. Oooohhhh, more Clive. YUMMY. That man is seriously freakin' hot.
The Desk of Doom has been quiet today, so I'm almost LJ caught up and will be heading home shortly to do some writing with a possible hit and run Karaoke side-trip on the way.