Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Jared reviews The Doctor's Wife!

..without actually having watched it.

So, this is the big thing from Neil Gaiman? The greatest genius since Carbohydatus, the ancient Greek inventor of sliced bread? The TARDIS becomes human in the form of a Helena Bonham-Carter wannabe being all 'weeeehheeee oi'm stark raffing bonkers!!!' at the author's admission, just so she can say "I always took you where you were needed"

Okay, just to back up... Neil Gaiman felt he had to dedicate his entire story to something the fanbase has been pretty well aware of since, say 1967. I mean, I actually haven't read anything by the guy other than a bizarre Cthulu tribute in a comic fantasy collection he wrote, but I keep hearing about how if I'm in the room I'll be crushed under his brain the size of a planet [OR disgusted at his superhuman efforts to molest schoolgirls by one dubious source...] so seems a bit of a letdown.

Apparently this is reason enough for DWC to dedicate fifteen minutes to letting him read out his own stage directions in a stately monotone - he's just THAT bloody good!

I mean, really? Most writers don't even get a mention, but the bloke who wrote Sandman and Good Omens gets this kind of sickening ultra-fellatio treatment? It's nothing against him, but the sycophancy of society today. Say 'Neil Gaiman' to the average person on the street and they will have NO IDEA who you're talking about (especially since we're in Australia) It's similar to 2005. I kept hearing about what a MASSIVE NAME Christopher Eccleston was. Yep. Sure he is. aka that bloke from Cracker. Get real tree huggers!

That was a fascinating argument wasn't it - Paul McGann v Christopher Eccleston for the title of most famous. Cracker versus Hornblower! Whitnail & I versus Elizabeth! Gone in 60 Seconds versus Aliens 3! One of the many things that makes me ponder the cult of celebrity and how many people there are who really, when it comes down to it, care. Outside of the industry and the fringes...

I mean, when it comes down to it, the treatment of Robert Carlyle in SGU by the cast is quite stunning. Yes, he's a great actor... but is he really that massive? Americans seem to either refer to him as 'Begby from Trainspotting' or 'that guy who played Hitler'. They never got the wonders of Hamish McBeth! (Or Gunpowder, Treason and Plot more seriously, which was a mini-masterpiece as far as I'm concerned...)


Carlyle should have been the Ninth Doctor, actually. By virtue of having once stabbed Ecclestone to death...

So anyway, The Doctor's Wife...



Yeah, I decided to go with binary. Arabic's getting old.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Good God (or Jared Explodes)

Two posts.

Did I read that right?

Two posts?















Okay... what's happened with Jared? I tell you what's happened with Jared. He got kicked out of a sharehouse that consisted of an English girl who seemed to barely know how to put shorts on judging by daily attire, an unemployed English painter/surfer who left his banking details in my room more than once, a sloshed Kiwi chef who had difficulty following the plot in shithouse Australian police drama here] and a leviathanic intellect shat out of Europe's Nether Regions who deduced it was safe to loudly badmouth me in the kitchen, as we were separated at the time by a wall nearly three millimeters thick.

For the record, Mister Simon Jongenotter, I did not always say hello to you NOT because I am inherently anti-social but because you are a completely worthless cunt with no redeeming values whatsoever and the only regret at you being entirely out of my life is that it has robbed me of any opportunity to enact grievous bodily harm on your not in considerably wide person.

I followed that up with getting led on by a completely psychotic girl for the better part of a year, getting STOOD UP by a girl who appeared to have been Australia's first personality donor - TWICE!!!, getting snubbed by a giantess, getting ditched by a woman who appeared to have no facial muscles whatsoever (or possibly I ditched her, I got confused), denied the existence of said girl to friends inadvertently, then failed to recognize her at all when talking to her at a distance of one foot at work (sorry Rebecca!) and capped off my romantic forays by borderline sexually assaulting a Finnish girl in a G-rated way. FOR SCIENCE!

Leaving that behind me I moved into another sharehouse, where I found it completely in-fucking-possible to get any sleep. None. Zip! AAARHHGHGHGHAGH. This is probably the main reason I'm still out of commission mentally - my sleep patterns are fucked. How many more weeks could I have taken of waking up at 4 am???? .... zero. That's how many. Zilch.

Living on that sleep, I'm amazed I didn't kill a man. Or, to be more accurate, many men. At least the Peruvian couple. Ooooooohhh the Peruvian couple I was sharing with. In a normal, chemically balanced existence they could have been nice company. But this... THIS? I was on edge worse than a HIV-infected junkie at the firing range.

Every sound of them SMASHING their retarded spoons into their retarded bowls of cereal, every weird show they watched, everytime they screamed 'GOOOOOOAL!... and the washing up. My God. The instant they were done with a meal they did a washing up. And look at me pointedly for not washing my sole plate and knife. TWO PIECES OF KITCHENWARE? I'M MEANT TO RUN THE HOT WATER FOR THAT???? Why can't they leeeave anything? I LIKE DOING THE WASHING UP YOU PRICKS!!!

At the same time as this is going on I find out that I'm losing my job, and a certain poisonous voice in my ear gloatingly tells me that she knew for MONTHS, but didn't tell me because I once allegedly looked at a co-workers amply displayed mammary glands while she was juggling them about in my face like a surreal act at Cirque Du'Solei.


Circuses? So weird it isn't circii. What doofi came up with that pluralization?

So, yeah, get this I get asked what the single most program I use is prior to the interviews as my boss has no idea what the fuck I actually do, and tell her. The successful applicant, who I get to train in the space of THREE DAYS, has NEVER heard of it. The program? Microsoft Access. How does he describe it?

'A simpler version of Corel Draw'


Well that's barely legible. Glad I put the fucking effort into that. Way to fuck up a punchline.

I was thinking of a complicated gag where I zoom in on the impossibly-large mouth of cult rapper Wax to reveal that logo with a banner underneath saying "Insanity - Sneak Preview" but put the kibosh on that as too much effort from the guy who does all his work in MSPaint. Also, enjoy another cameo from 2004 Fat Jared? By god would I trade this dearth of lard for that fine of hair, though...

So anyway, yeah, no job. The farewell where it's illustrated that people don't care about you THAAAT much but enough for a cake to be involved and while a few complain about you leaving status quo is quite clearly god, like a terrible TV series. I'm so keen to escape my sharehouse I actually arrange to move out the morning after my last day at work as if there's a fucking zombie apocalypse in the area. Though, now I think about it if I could text all the women I went out with in that period and they all miraculously showed up I could stage a pretty good fucking zombie apocalypse OOOOHHH

(Barring one or two shining examples of ladyhood. Phew. Will that keep me covered? Okay, what if I specifically say 'Not Letitia'? Wouldn't mind some more of that white-but-kinda-polynesian-around-the-eyes sugar.. Otherwise I got RSI from typing on shitty dating sites for NOTHING)

Since moving back in with my parents.... man. I moved a piano. Kinda tried to learn the drums. Bizarrely stopped writing altogether even though I've got tons of time on my hands. Did more work on my adventure game project I'm not allowed to talk about and definitely look like getting kicked off any day judging by the fucking massive wealth of passive aggressive remarks directed towards me. Applied for a few jobs. Watched pretty much all of the Venture Bros and devoured Portal 2 with BBQ sauce and a side of chips. Got some kinda YouTube addiction going on.

Frankly, the questions of whether my brain's entirely burnt out I had from the last post still stand. I don't know if I just need sleep, if I need focus... what. I feel almost like going to a monastery. I feel like... thinking anything I'm trying to divine from a bowl of custard. And not the good kind, lumpy custard.

Where has Jared been? He's been waving from the other side of the brink of insanity while the OTHER Jared rapes the life preserver instead of throwing it to him. Who IS the other Jared? I don't know but I want to beat the shit out of him.

Hoped that writing a blog post about it venting wildly like a shot spleen in a Sam Peckinpah movie would help. Did it? NO IDEA.

Leave your creative or funny responses in the comment section BEEEEEEEELOW. I'm Jared Peter Hansen and I approve this message HAHAHAHA