rowanberries: (Needlessly Messianic)
So yes, Love Never Dies: Unfortunately, Since We All Wish It Would Already.

Let's do that.

I have seven pages in my notebook, all written in the dark, and I will try to expand on each note to give you a flavour of just what [livejournal.com profile] bookelfe and I sat through. (Her review, for she is swifter and more industrious than I am, is here!)

IN FAIRNESS: On a certain level, I did actually have a good time at the show. The cast were excellent; even Christine's actress, who valiantly strove against some horribly written music. (Dear composers: Just because a singer can reach certain notes, does not mean she should constantly be doing it. Especially when the lyrics are kind of important and now really hard to understand.)

Also, if you name your musical after one singular song contained within, for the love of god, could it not be... boring? Seriously. MORE ON THAT LATER.

ExpandReview cut for length, incoherency and far too much punctuation! )


In conclusion:

Becca: Gustave has two Daddies and A ROBOT MOMMY. - So he has.

Come on, fess up. Who linked Andrew Lloyd Webber to the Pit of Voles?


EDIT: I cannot believe I just wrote 4,000 words about an Andrew Lloyd Webber Musical.
rowanberries: (Kronk - Headsmack)
In a feat of miraculous clumsiness, I have just poured hot wax over both my thighs. Those jeans will never be the same again.

I just...

*Facepalm*

Some days I don't know why I'm allowed out of the house.
rowanberries: (Helium cat)
Okay, so in my dream last night, Carlisle Cullen turned into Barack Obama halfway through without anyone really noticing.

I haven't even read or watched Twilight.

I'M SO SORRY, MR. PRESIDENT.

SPARKLEMUNS, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, YES YOU, [livejournal.com profile] neenie!

Not the rabbits. Fuckers. Meeeeeeble.
rowanberries: (Ianto is fucking competent!)
We took down all the Christmas stuff today, wrapped up warm against the cold and snow. Weird and inexplicable places that pine needles have shown up thereafter include:

My pockets.
In my shoes.
(related, in my toe. Ow.)
In my freaking bra.
On the cat.

The rest of the day was spent beating my head against the jobseekers website and phone line. One would think they don't want to give me money while I can't find a job. Um.
rowanberries: (Opera Ghost/Laughing)
Sssssso, looks like they're started casting for Avatar: The Cash-in

I'll just... be over here. Hoping this isn't accurate. :(
rowanberries: (Opera Ghost/Laughing)
WHAT THE FUCK, SNOW?!

SERIOUSLY?
rowanberries: (Duuuuuuuuuude.)
So, how exactly does one sing 'When the Going Gets Tough' convincingly?

With preteen backup singers and dancers?

I feel this will be special.
rowanberries: (Duuuuuuuuuude.)
Oh, crap.

And it is crap.

But, crap.

ExpandAvec rambling and bitching )
rowanberries: (Opera Ghost/Laughing)
London? Wouldn't you know it, full of bloody zombies. Dragged sister to meet [livejournal.com profile] innerbrat, and we holed up in Science Museum, before fortifying a nearby Pizza Express. Think we might have got away with it. Turns out garlic butter is a powerful repellant to more than one type of undead. Who knew?

Meh. Gonna try and get some sleep. All this stress has given me a cold.

[BLITEOTW08 whut.]
rowanberries: (Opera Ghost/Laughing)
So, I'm not really into either Wincest OR Supernatural RPS. You guys know that, right?

Right?

*Goes and cries with laughter in the corner*
rowanberries: (Writing)
You know the drill, right?

Torchwood fandom, MPreg-verse, no money being made, warnings for... uh, swearing? Complete lack of logic?
Warning: SPOILERS for Torchwood series 2 episode 1. However, all dialogue is from my memory, and therefore probably very wrong. But the gist of it's all right. Er. Up until the whole alien baby thing.

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five

ExpandTorchwood MPreg Part WTF )
rowanberries: (Default)
Followon from this and this. Not mine, all the BBC's, yadda yadda.

Well, somehow this next bit turned into Owen-Tosh friendschmoop.

I have no idea how or why.

Whatever.

*Head in hands*

ExpandOh, my poor soul. )

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July 2015

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