1...

1) Total number of films I own on DVD/Video.Thirteen, twenty-one including TV series.2) The last film I boughtLook, I can explain. No, really. See, I'd just finished watching Sportsnight after years of only knowing the fic, and was having a full Josh Charles renaissance (And his mouth? It really does do that thing, no, not that thing, although I really like to think he does that thing later.), and I'd already bought Dead Poet's Society, and I was at the DVD store, and there, pimping itself at me from the 'M' section was Threesome. So I bought it. And watched it. And a movie more deliriously, appallingly, jaw-droppingly, pretentiously bad I hope never to see again. Still, I laughed a lot.3) The last film I watchedHitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It was, um, okay. As someone who knows the radio and BBC tv series so well that when the theme played during the opening credits, I got a little choked up (and we're not going to mention the summer I memorised the first three chapters of the book, either, okay?), it didn't do it for me. Bits were amusing, but Arthur was not Arthur, and the Vogons were almost cute, for fuck's sake, and, yes, well. Just, no.The next film I'm going to see is Kingdom of Heaven, and I will be extremely disappointed if it isn't a hugely self-important historical melodrama with bad CGI castles in the background. These are the movies I live for. After Troy, Alexander and now KoH, I thought Hollywood might have been tapped out on improbable epics, so I was immensely cheered to read that some poor fool has just signed Matt Damon to play Marco Polo. 4) Five films I watch a lot that mean a lot to meEven though I have a yen for bad historical epics, I also rilly rilly like some good ones, such as Master & Commander, one of the few literary adaptations that I love as much as the source material, Dangerous Liasions, because the mindfucks, people, and the exquisite sleaze, and I still cry when Valmont gets skewered. LA Confidential, again for very, very nearly doing justice to the source material, and being a damned good movie in its own right, The Princess Bride, of course, because snarling 'Prepare to die!' under your breath at an annoying co-worker will always be deeply satisfying.5) Tag 5 people and have them put this in their journalBecause I am a big black holes that stop all chain letters, emails and memes in their tracks, there are no tags. Also, everyone else in the known universe, possibly even Arthur and a Vogon or three, has already done this.

So I've had my annual prat fall.

This year, instead of tripping up the steps onto a tram (momentarily distracted by a Watch Your Step sign I'd never noticed), falling over in the street (dodging an apparently slippery metal grating in favour of actually slippery concrete), or tripping while getting out of the shower (yeah, no excuse for that one), I fell off the chair I was standing on to try and open my bedroom window. I did manage to demonstrate impressive if delayed coordination by twisting myself around as I fell, neatly avoiding the armchair, the chest of drawers, and the bedpost. Instead I landed curled up possum fashion, eyes scrunched shut and limbs neatly tucked. My left arm is a bit wrenched, and I have some bruises, and my flatmate has a laughter induced hernia, but that's all.My bloody window is still stuck though.

So...

So, I'm pretty vain about my handwriting, not obnoxiously so, but I have nice handwriting, and many people have commented on it over the years. It's partly a product of growing up in the French education system, which is much stricter about these things than the Anglophone systems are, and partly of completing three quarters of a design degree in which a disproportionate amount of time was spent doing writing drills, but mostly because I enjoy it.So.The six people in my unit at work have, generally speaking, average to awful handwriting, which is pretty much standard these days, apart from one, whose writing looks like a second grader's first attempts at cursive. I didn't really think anything of it (beyond 'yikes', anyway) until I handed this woman a form to sign one day this week, and realised that her writing was that bad because she had these enormous fake gel overlays on her fingernails, which meant that she could barely hold a goddamn pen.And my split second revelation went like this: I would happily endure nails that were nothing more than mangled, bloody stumps, as long as my handwriting looked good. Apparently it's more important to me that some random stranger in Accounts who might one day come across an expense form I filled out think 'Huh, nice writing' to themselves, while I gross everyone out with my shredded finger tips, than that I come across as a borderline illiterate when I sign something.I also suspect that this is not a surprise to anyone who knows me.