peg22: (spppeeeeeed)



or any bad deity you choose . . .

it's really not fair I have to work. Cuz the building forgot to put on the heat and it's like 15 degrees outside and the post office is 
closed and the Silver Spoon - gag o licious lunch place - is closed so I am forced to eat saltines and a year old can of soup . . .

and the Panto is over and I can't finish any of the House stories I've started - I think it's cuz it's not on TV right now - pout.

and there are rumors that the boys are going to show up at the same time at the same place soon . . . and I don't have time to report the crack.

and the AUDITOR is here at work and I know she's gonna discover thousands of errors and I will be compelled to admit it's
all because of my at work crack writing . . .

wow, that was a whinomatic whining whine fest. I feel better. And I should go read Susan's What If entry . . . cuz she has my favorite permed to the gills asshole of a character that I love love love in it . . . so happy . . .

 

peg22: (laughingsh)

so it's a rebuttal of sorts. We all read death drabbles and death fic - with one eye closed, squinting, as to not really see the finale of one or both of the boys . . .

But when they're good - they're GOOD. Makes you have to go watch Mary Poppins or an episode of Frasier (I suggest the one where Martin brings home Sherri to meet the boys . . . killer) to get over it.

Or write odd snippets. Well, that might just be me. (and you can blame susan for the title)

I shamelessly use the words of Susan and Nik.  
Here's the story link for Nik's Belly Up:  http://www.meandthee.shahrazad.net/display.php?storyid=779
And the drabble that started it all: http://sjames-centre.livejournal.com/30012.html#cutid1




 
peg22: (paulpanto)

So, I got a reprieve from the airlines and am still sitting in Canada, looking out this window: (which by the way, is apparently a fantastic place to write S/H fic AND crack . . .)



So I thought I'd finish up dictating the missives from London and all points east . . .

So far 2008 is good - but I am always suspect of even numbered years - deceptively divisible, I guess . . .

I'll  miss the boys in London, but the Bay City ones are impatient, as well as the Princeton Plainsboro Hospital ones (who have NO ONE writing anything for them these days . . .) and so for now . . . au revoir (see, how good is my French now, eh?)


peg22: (hutchandtorino)

so, on the way to the end of the Panto Chronicles, this fell out. Sometimes the boys take precedent over their real selves . . .

It's slash
It's S/H
It's got young boys, blood, The Fix, old boys and a new Torino . . . what else is there, really?!?!?

It may even get a little mushy at the end . . . blame it on the holidays and hormones.

peg22: (mom and hugh)
So I was cursed with a holiday birthday. Cursed. For the first few years of my life, I either had measles or chicken pox on my birthday. The year I finally got my Easy Bake Oven, I couldn't play with it cuz my mother the nurse didn't want me baking tiny bacteria cupcakes under that lightbulb. So my uncle used up all the little powder packages to make a huge cookie.

When I got older, I always had to have my birthday party WAY after my birthday since no one was in school and most parents were either hungover or watching football and couldn't be driving their kiddies down to Shakees Pizza . . .

When I got even older, the birthday became the finale of the New Year's Eve party. Midnight, kiss, kiss, bring out cake, sing happy birthday, eat cake, try to sober up, drive home . . . whoooo hooooo

So on my 40th birthday, I took off. To NYC. By myself. Best decision I ever made (except when I decided not to shave one side of my head and color it purple - hey it was the 80s okay?!)

I stood in a line at a real live deli on the Upper West side on the night of my birthday and my best friend called me and then I realized that Anthony Michael Hall was right behind me in line . . . And I saw Hugh Jackman in Boy From Oz and the last weekend of Take Me Out and Patrick Stewart in The Caretaker and I swore to never be home on my birthday again.

So this year (and last year) I've gone international. To Canada. And this year it snowed like it snows in On The Banks of Plum Creek when Pa had to eat all the Christmas candy cuz he got stuck in the snow bank and he was only able to save the oysters cuz they were in a  can and I sat by the fire and I drank Bailey's and I turned another year older and I hardly noticed a thing. And it was perfect.

The problem is that I like it better when I'm on control of things. It's the Capricorn in me. Plus I'm a first born born on the first. Of the month. Of the year. Of everything. So I can't really help it.

And now I have to try, in the next few months, to give up, well LOADS OF CONTROL. Throw caution to the wind and  throw in with another and leap empty handed into the void and make a left hand turn from the right hand lane. And it's just about as scary as finding my way from Charles De Galle airport to a hostel in the middle of Paris in the middle of the night with no map, no french money and no french words except the chorus of Lady Marmalade. But that turned out okay.

So I'll just make the decision to spend most days alternating between terror and terpsichory  and be grateful that the void is there to leap screaming into.

Or something like that. I think I'm gonna have to write a lot of CRACK.
peg22: (paulpanto)


2008 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.

December 25, 2007 - AP

The Christmas party hosted by Britain's most intellectual pudding, Stephen Fry, has taken a turn into the annals of Page Six scandal. And that seems to be okay for the ebullient Fry, who could not be reached for comment. Yet.

The party, touted by some to be THE EVENT of the holiday season, boasting an RSVP list that included , Hugh Grant, Hugh Laurie, Hugh Jackman, both sides of Starsky and Hutch, David Soul and Paul Michael Glaser (sans his Captain Hook 'stache) as well as a smattering of London's brightest social winds, not to mention the rest of the cast of Peter's Friends (sans Kenneth Branagh), was scheduled to begin Christmas Eve at the pastoral estate purchased by Fry in the late 80s.

Unfortunately, the party got off to a rather rocky start when Fry, three fingers into the Christmas cheer, mooned the exiting  matinee audience of Glaser's Peter Pan panto at the Churchill Theatre in Bromley. David Soul hopped out, grabbed his former partner in crime fighting Glaser, and tossed him into the back of the limo, where at least a dozen people reported seeing Hugh Grant, Hugh Laurie and Emma Thompson, and then the limo, carrying what could arguably be considered Britain's comedy brain trust, careened through the streets of Bromley, finally disappearing in the holiday traffic on the motorway.

One mother, who had tossed her jacket over her four year old twins Augustus and Alfonse, as to not "burn their tiny eyes," also said, "It's the most disgusting bum I've ever had the displeasure to see. Gah . . . the hair on that thing . . ."

Later that evening, Fry and his long time partner, Hugh Laurie, were photographed coming out of a petrol station lavatory. They hopped back into the limo, and as they drove off, one onlooker swore she saw "David Soul flew me the bird out the back - bloody hell. Just wanted a quick peek into that car - see if Starsky was in there with him, that's all. Fucking full of himself, that one is."



Still later that night, the fire brigade was called to the estate, where Captain John Fizzelgerst reported that "they had set fire to the Christmas tree."  Mr Fry reported that Mr. Glaser, demonstrating a new yoga position to Mr. Jeremy Irons, had inadvertantly knocked a bucket of ashes into a roll of Christmas paper that then rolled under the tree. The mishap went unnoticed until Mr. Hugh Laurie, deep into a heated discussion about goose versus turkey for Christmas dinner with Mr. David Soul, smelled smoke.

"Although how I ever noticed was a Christmas miracle, given the way Soul goes on like a bloody chimney every second. I don't think I've seen the man without a cigarette dangling yet."

There was minor damage to the settee and the ivory mantle clock, and Mr. Soul was compelled to take Mr. Glaser upstairs for a "breathing treatment," but  there were no other serious injuries.

Carla Wasserstein, AP


peg22: (paulpanto)




                                                     A little last minute Christmas shopping, a nice breakfast with a 
                                                    friend - how does it always turn into an odd adventure?
                                                     Don't ask me - I just report the stuff . . .

  More Cracktmas fic                                                   
  RP-s-ish
  Starring the boys I love


peg22: (rudolph)

 

Okay, so I just intercepted these missives from a delightful little man with a lisp and a limp. So I must share. I also must step away from the Christmas cheer, but that's a whole nother episode of Intervention, okay?!

Just a little crackity crack for the season. Starring DS, PMG, Stephen Fry,  soiling the reputation of Hugh Laurie, Hugh Grant, Ian Mckellen, Alan Davies, Jude Law, and some unnamed hobbits . . .

Really, I just report. Oh, yeah, and there's a spot of Dickens.

peg22: (paulpanto)

So it's just too delicious - Paul is Beyonce and David is Jane Fonda and no new shows are being written and so reality TV is taking over the tube and so I figure this is my contribution to Reality TV - Davey Loves Paulie: The London Years . . .

here's the review:  http://www.countrylife.co.uk/blogs/article/168957/Review_Peter_Pan.html

and here's the story:

it's RPalmostS
it's those boys I love
it's keeping me sane during the holiday rush

it's always for LS



 
peg22: (torino)


Okay, so the district attorney's office (or city prosecutor - whatever) has been sending letters, with the idea of building a case against the Torino Thief, right? 

And we are getting a little more info, a clearer picture of the events surrounding that tragic morning, right?

So last night I got a little info that makes the whole case WAY MORE CLEARER.

For you see, the perp/thief/dumbass might just have a motive in this case. For you see, the perp/thief/dumbass just happens to be . . . a deaf mute. Yes, that's right - a deaf mute. Now Rebel and EH's episode review this week aside, I happen to subscribe to the theory that I just might have stumbled onto whatever happened to:



Cute kitten and a long career as character actor and voice over professional aside, I do believe this crime was not random at all, but a not so well thought out, very poorly executed act of REVENGE.

Here are my facts:

The deaf mute part.
The candy bar wrappers found in the front seat of my parent's car. HELLO!
The missing cane. ( For RC's bad hip - HELLO!)
The obvious signs of an accomplice, which one can only draw the conclusion, must be this guy:



Don't let his police background on Cagney and Lacey plus countless other cop shows during the last 30 years dissuade you.  Just remember - this man was on two episodes of UNSUB, which also starred a certain finger pointing blond Torino passenger - okay?!

I believe this man has my TORINO! Maybe he was still sore for all the unnecessary harrassment from our boys. Maybe he was mad he didn't let them drive him home that day and then something happened on the bus that has made him scared of public transportation since. Maybe he's just MEAN.

I don't know. I'm not here to get to the whys. I do the whos. And this is who. Schwooo. 

I'll probably get keys to the city. Or at least free parking for life. Whatever.

peg22: (ds/pmg)
 and neither can I.  

PMG and his little interview all about the Panto - which was really all about making the lovely interviewer all flustered because the man TURNED IT ON. That thing about Starsky that's irresistible - well it first came from PMG. And I love that he's still got it in his arsenal. Plus, since he didn't have to be the one who makes sure David doesn't say something to incite some kind of incident, he could concentrate on honing his  . . . interview skills.

the interview is here: http://community.livejournal.com/starsky_hutch/627616.html

So I had to write this. It's RPF - but in a good way. And you KNOW IT HAPPENED.

I just report. 
And maybe embellish.
But with these two? Embellishment is hardly necessary.



peg22: (torino)
So my parents, who live in the "safe suburbs", got their car stolen. Out of their garage. 
But, they have ONSTAR. So an exciting police chase ensued. Cuz they immediately called ONSTAR and located the car driving through a different safe suburb. Which, of course, ended with the "perp" (yes it does sound odd coming out of my mother's mouth) wrecking the car into a tree.

So while all this is scary and exciting, considering I was spending the night at the parents and had to wake up at 6am with the rest of them when my mother discovered the missing auto, the worst part was:

THEY STOLE MY TORINO. 

Right out of the trunk of MY CAR. Which was sitting in the driveway in front of the house. Which no one would want to steal, but they found the need to rifle through the contents and then 

TOOK THE TORINO! The famous one - from the summer roadtrip. Bastard burgler stealer thiefs!

So when the guy was caught - NO TORINO. 

Where is it? There must have been an ACCOMPLICE. A passenger. A partner in crime.

But, I'm over it. Cuz my sweet peaches won me another on on EBAY. Ahhhhhh, sweet peaches.

So now my parents are fortifying their house like, well, not to wax too cliche but, FORT KNOX.

And my 8 year old niece is having nightmares about people getting in her house.
And my 3 year old niece thinks that Jesus will get them cuz, according to her, 
"Jesus puts people in jail for being bad"
And my 9 year old nephew thinks if the burglar had a nice family, and a job, 
he might not need our car.

And that is the entire American pysche all neatly tied up in a red, white and blue ribbon:

Fear and misguided religious zeal tempered with a pinch of compassion and universalistic leanings.

But, I am proud to say, they did manage to work up some healthy vengeful 
thoughts over the TORINO.

Smart kids.
peg22: (bestst/hug)

So it's finally done - my Starsky/Huggy fic.  I'm glad and sad - as one is when one has to leave the comforting world one creates for oneself in the middle of writing . . . (and yes, I know that's a nauseating use of some odd tense and pronoun thing-a-ma-jig)

I just have always held fast to the belief that Starsky and Huggy had history. Even after writing this, I'm not real sure what it is. This is just one idea. One tangent. One way down the bramble-filled path that is the fandom/canon history of these boys - all three of them.

(See, I just watched Dexter and that narration in that show does this to me - makes me want to have lyrical and literal word accompany all my actions in life . . . and especially when I'm typing . . .)

This was first started for LyricalSoul, who I miss like Vicodin. And it ended with Susan - cuz she finally succumbed to the love that is Starsky/Huggy . . .

It's lovingly hosted on Kass's site.

"A Beautiful Mess"
It's slash
It's S/H AND S/H
It's 4th season, which means anything goes . . .


http://shslash.kassidyrae.com/beautiful_mess.htm


 
peg22: (Default)
 
It's going to be so interesting watching how this strike is affected by the interweb. Already, we have up to the minute reports from the front line, with the studios so deservedly cast in the role of Voldemort. Go Writers. Go Unions.

On the other hand, if peeps would just get this jazzed over things that truly affect their lives like healthcare and education and fresh drinking water . . . if only. Maybe if it was a very special episode of Healthcare Anatomy . . . sigh. Or if you gave more than a damn about the teachers in your public schools, then George Clooney AND the entire cast of Heroes would give you a 30 minute massage . . .

But I digress. 

Here's a little fluffy sumpin sumpin I wrote whilst waiting to post my Starsky/Huggy - which is neither fluffy nor could be used to solve any crisis. Anywhere. Ever. 

It's House/Wilson. It's slash. It's for those writers who created this amazing set of characters for us to play with. Thank you.


Air Guitar
by Kaye

peg22: (jb)
 
 . . . because they present the MOST unrealistic picture of how theatre works in the real world.  You are never, ever going to play  Eliza Doolittle, Blanche Dubois, and Lady Macbeth in the same year. EVER. You are never going to get EVERY role you audition for. EVER. We all kinda know that , though - right? We know that those brave souls who head to New York or LA or Chicago or Kansas City or wherever - their back is UP AGAINST IT - HARD. 

We've all seen the after school specials and the Lifetime movies and the A&E documentaries. It's part of the allure, that cautionary tale of trying to make it in the theatre or the BIZ, right? 

So most of us head to real life and love and friendship and family and despair and hope and everything in between that comes with that life so real and we take jobs at Bass Pro Shop, even though we are anti- shooting big weapons at living things because we need to have a JOB, and we work at less than glamorous desks and cubicles so that we can be off at 4 to be at the kids soccer games, and we work three different jobs so that we can go on vacations to Europe or Hawaii or Colorado . . .

and it's all good, right?!

WRONG. Because just this week I have interviewed scores of people who said the exact thing same when asked why they want this menial little low paying job I have to offer when they have a perfectly good medium paying job already:

"I have always wanted to get back into theatre . . . OR  . . . I just love "the theatre" and have missed it . . ."

and the JOB is actually to answer phones and mail tickets and pick up dry cleaning . . .

and I have decided that it's because HIGH SCHOOL THEATRE PROGRAMS are like crystal meth . . . leeching into your pores forever, and just when you think you're good - you don't ever have to have a hit off that pipe again, a crystallized memory of how the lights made the dust look like stars when you flipped on the ghost light, or how the wings smelled when 25 rats marched off during Nutcracker, or how you had your first kiss up in the catwalks, or how you fit 12 people into the booth at Pizza Hut for the cast party . . . it slams you against the wall and you head off in your "interview suit" and your way overqualified resume and you hope against hope that this is going to be your BIG BREAK. 

Nothing else in high school does this. You don't go through life with the nagging feeling that if you just joined a choral group or chess team, your life would double it's meaning. No one EVER mentions any other high school activity in their REAL WORLD job interviews, do they? When they're 43 and have had 22 jobs since the first one at Hardees where they shoved ham and cheese out the drive-thru window to their friends and quit one weekend cuz they wanted to go to Pizza Hut for the cast party, do they?

On the other hand . . . those carefully hidden dreams are why you sit in that cubicle with smiley face post-it notes reminding you to purge old authorizations and spell out terrace and avenue and street . . . because I guess unless you are one of the lucky ones who find a vocation or career that doesn't require luck, kismet, and excellent bone structure - like doctor and lawyer and president of the united states - you spend much of your life working somewhere while dreaming of working somewhere else . . .

it's all so complicated, isn't it? In a good way.

Gotta go, I hear Starbucks is hiring - and they offer a free pound of coffee every week to employees, which would really come in handy as I'm up all night writing the next GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL . . .
peg22: (jb)


Got tagged by the fabulous [personal profile] callisto65 - here be the answers:

 1 What's your favourite Welsh word/expression?

Well, I am partial to "bachgen" of course but one of my favorite expression would have to be:

Daw Haul ar Fryn, which translates to "Comes the Sun to the hill"   and which means things are bound to improve. My grandpa used to say it alot.

2 What's the smell that takes you instantly back to a happy childhood memory?

Lilacs or pipe smoke.  Hiding under big lilac bushes or taking walks with my grandpa.

3 Favourite AU in any fandom you've read in.

Gentlemen Start Your Engines always comes to mind - just hooked me so far in.  

4 What's the best performance you've seen in the theatre?

It's a tie between Hugh Jackman in "Boy From Oz" and Patrick Stewart in his one man "Christmas Carol"

5 Name a fandom you can never see yourself reading or writing in.

I can't write Torchwood and don't really read it - although I adore the show. Also Emergency - loved the show - can't read the fic.

peg22: (DS)



Mine changes weekly. This week I'm in a severe Hugh Laurie channels David Soul mode . . . right, LS?



peg22: (sh kiss)

Finally, smuggled back to me by the Welsh guy and the tranny's step-sister on her mother's side - 
the final chapter . . . will the boys make it? Will the Torino be found or has someone already chopped it up into toasters and crockpots and salt and pepper shakers? Will Starsky ever venture out of the city again?







 
peg22: (sh kiss)
 
After a long hot summer of prowling the back streets and sewers, tossing porno row, knocking down the heroin nests, our boys needed a break.

And so, because Hutch secretly loves John Denver, and Starsky secretly loves Hutch, they took to the road. The long, long road. The following is a photo journal of the trip. No bad guys, no guns, no Dobey. Just the boys and the open road and the Torino.
They started in Kansas City - because everything does - and drove the 10 hours across Kansas in eight.

What could be more perfect?



So Kansas is a little flat - Starsky got the Torino up to 120. Hutch threw up near Hays.



But, they made it. Barely.

Starsky stopped in Colorado Springs to get the Kansas dust and bugs off the Torino. 
Hutch bought 12 books about gold mining and fur trapping. Starsky bought beef jerky and a Yoo Hoo.

And then it was up into the Rocky Mountains.



Which were gorgeous.



Until of course, Starsky had the great idea to take the Torino "off road"



which Hutch thought was a bad idea, until Starsky pointed out they were all alone . . . in the woods . . . on a mountain . . .
So Hutch popped in some Denver and Starsky popped a Coors and push came to shove and the Torino lost its parking brake and they ended up here:



How will the boys get out of this? Stay tuned for Torino Adventures Part 2

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