Replacing "Shag" with "Screw"

*weeps*

The thing that frustrates me the most about all this, is that I will watch it.

I would have watched a UK based Season 4 sans Ianto without feeling any qualms.

If it does in fact produce episodes in America I will watch it. Very likely with something a kin to fangrrl enthusiasm.

I fear though, that FOX will take all that is good about Tochwood - the relationship stuff (which was weird and complicated and not at all clear cut as to what everyone felt towards one another), the queer sexuality, the dark character arcs (Cyberwoman made people laugh? Seriously?!) and, well, UK sensibility.
Welsh sensibility.
That understated equanimity that comes from being so elegantly arrogant it gets you into tight spots just so you can ingeniously get out of them!

Tell me, did James Bond have to move to the CIA in order to be the coolest man alive?
He did not!
Why does Torchwood, created out of the Doctor's stupidity and hubris, have to move across the pond in order to be "significant" to entertainment?

Yeah, I'm an Anglophile, I fully admit that, perhaps it comes from being a colonialist myself.

Britannica is no less authentic entertainment than Americana.

That, and I hate FOX.

They will make Jack into a womaniser rather than the equal opportunity flirt/shagger that he is!

*stomps foot!*

Becoming Feminine

I had to get up obscenely early this morning, because I had a class at 8:30 (yay! no more waking up at 6 am in order to catch the train!).

Opposite me in the booth, a really pretty girl (as in young woman, my age-ish, probably a little younger) began to put on her face.
When I say "face", I mean it.

The art of putting on make up is one I'd never really mastered, I'm lucky if I remember to pluck and tidy up my curly eye brows. But watching her, I was so impressed by the whole process of it.

She started with blush. Compared to me, she had a dark completion, and from a pretty cocoa it suddenly became bronze. I had my sunglasses on, so she couldn't see me watch her, but I couldn't stop looking.

It was simply a gorgeous process to behold.

After she finished with the blush, she took out silvery-white eye-shadow, her big brown eyes suddenly looked huge and watery. As though they were shining from the inside. She took out her mascara and her lashes framed her eye, her eye lids looked like a flower petals.

She finished off by adding just a touch of red, cherry chap-stick, to her lips, creating a dark contra to the sparkle of her eyes.

She fluffed her hair and was about to pick up the news paper when I removed my glasses and looked straight at her;
"Before you start reading, I just wanted to say that you're really beautiful and the whole process you did was gorgeous as well. I know this sounds weird, but I just had to tell you" I said.

She looked shocked for a moment (well, strangers on a train aren't supposed to talk about your make-up!), but then she grinned at me, her mouth stretching, her eyes crinkled and she said though her huge smile: "Thank you so much".

Two people had a good start to the day.

I just thought I'd share and tell this, because it's so rare that we acknowledge all the hard work we put into being in public, showing a face to the world. Make-up or not, it's worth noting and talking about.

Memoirs of a Disgruntled Grunt: Food in the IDF

Within three months of being enlisted into the IDF I put on something like 5 kg.
I had cried, tears rolled down my face, as I told my mother I had jock itch because my thighs were rubbing together, along with the very ill-fitting uniform.
I didn't wear clothes in my proper size for the two years that I served.

Food in the IDF is disgusting.

I was not vegetarian at the time, but I pretended to be, because the processed tofu schnitzels looked more appetizing and less likely to give me salmonella than the "regular" food.

Having done kitchen duty like a champ, I can tell you, the cooks are over worked, it's an yucky job, you have to deal with teenaged girls being grossed out by things (being a young aunt cured me of viewing leftover food as gross) that they've seen people eat and, well, dealing with the fact that despite having the most "practical" power (they're the wheelers and dealers of the army) they're in fact the lowest echelon of military jobs.

Yeah, the food was gross. We comforted ourselves by going to buy chocolate, biscuits, chocolate-chip cookies, crackers and cheese...

Yeah, it was good times in the barracks.

Is it any surprise girls (who do not do combat, which most of us do not) put on, on average, 10 kg of weight throughout our two year run.

I got thinking about because I saw this News article.
It made me guffaw. That's another way of saying LOL.

The IDF is going to cut out of its menu in the canteens (i.e. the cafeteria where you get your food for free) the fattening pastry foods - mainly Bourekas and rogalach - which have been traditional foods found in meetings, unit gatherings and, as mentioned, the canteens.

Nothing like promoting more resentment in the ranks!

I mean, I understand the need and want to promote "good health" which is a real oxymoron in the military - I cannot tell you how many yeast infections I had during my service because the trousers I wore five days a week was basically spun plastic.

Also, Doctors generally do not believe soldiers who come to the infirmary, their initial thought is that you are there to get sick-leave, which are days off not docked from your regular holidays.

You basically have to be dying in order to get treatment - or be at the emergency room with an actual bodily trauma.

Yeah, "good health".

Food is a big deal in the army.
It's something we arrange our time around - two hour lunch breaks are not unheard of, hell, unless I had something extremely pressing to do I could spend more time faffing around looking for chocolate and drinking seven cups of coffee a day (which was my average, I was up to ten cups a day at some point... withdrawal was a bitch after I was discharged).

Food was my comfort. Mainly because the food presented to us in the canteens was just so bad. Any other food was great and much of it was eaten.

I've spoken about the uniform before, so I don't need to tell you about the gendered aspect of it, but I remember how one day, I felt cramps, it wasn't that time of the month, so I went to the bathroom, opened my belt and instant relief.
Yeah, my belt had been pressing into me.
You can imagine what I did next.
I cried like the big baby I am/was.

Looking back, I can't say I felt bad about putting on the weight. It was something I didn't consciously think about - I mean, I hated myself for being "fat", but I was never ever willing to give up food that made me feel good.

That period of my life was full of half-assed attempts at weight loss.
"Weight Watchers" is a nightmare, as though we don't get judged enough in our lives.
Eating smaller portions got me eating more instead of less.
I got into shouting matches with my mother over my weight and what I was willing to do, or not do, in order to "control myself".

Yeah, food was a battle ground.

I don't know how much I eat today. I know that over the past few months I've lost weight, which worried me for a while, because weight loss has become something I associate with trauma and I still don't know what has caused me to become even smaller than I was.

Food in the IDF was part of what got me through it. Take outs, cakes, biscuits, the gatherings... *sigh* good times.
But they made my plastic pants split at the seam.

I'm glad it's over, never to return.

At times, it seemed to never end. I was even about to sign up for more - I was insane and full of fear of the outside world at the time - so when that fell through I suddenly had two weeks left of service.
The relief (and the weight loss that commenced simply because I was happy to be outside that framework) was unbelievable.

Related but off tangent; I don't know if Kung Fu is for me. I was in the best shape of my life while I was in those classes, but I didn't know how to protect myself, which pretty much negates the purpose...

As mentioned, I'm now thin, but very out of shape. I'm a slob, I don't exercise, I should, but I don't - I need to maלe the decision to go back to martial arts, but I need to want it and at the moment... I don't.