It's never a good idea to start writing your blog in the middle of an episode of Supernatural, so of course I've let it finish. I do love Sam and Dean. I especially love their stated mission:
"Saving people. Hunting things."
Doesn't get much more straightforward than that. And it's the family business! Bless.
In the last episode, when they couldn't kill the baddie because he was just a horribly abused (and yeah, okay, homicidal) kid with telekinetic powers, he thoughtfully shot himself before our heroes could stop him. Sam was pretty upset about that, for about three and a half seconds, until he realised that if scarily-pale-nutjob (sane people are identifiable by their healthy tans?) hadn't taken care of business, Dean would have set him on fire anyway. He couldn't help himself. That's the other part of their mission statement, the bit that got cut from the opening titles:
"Saving people. Hunting things. Driving fast. Starting fires."
I don't like it when Sammy "don't call me that!" Winchester gets upset, and not just because nobody likes to see a kicked puppy. It's more because Jared Padalecki, the boy with the name my friend Meow Tse Tung loves to sing about, only has two facial expressions, and I prefer the happy one. When he starts to get all emotional and, lord forbid, starts to act, things get ugly faster than a phantom truck on a dark and stormy night. He does things to his lips and chin that certainly look uncomfortable, and I worry that if he really does keep that up for the next six or seven seasons (I've only just started on season one. Thanks again to Meow) he might do some permanent damage, and end up looking like a sulky baby brother with something caught in his teeth for the rest of his life.
But enough of jPad and his future Oscar. I just wanted to share with you some weird shit I saw in Soho this week. It was pretty quiet in the shop, espesh on Thursday and Friday, so I had plenty of time to stand in the doorway, trying to catch some sun (ha!) and flashing drivers.
Here is a selection of Stuff Seen (in future there will be pics. For now, use your freaking imagination):
- The superfat dude who looks for all the world like Homer Simpson in that episode when he was superfat. Special not because he's fat, but because, like Homer, he has fantastic dress sense. Best yet: beret and black coat made out of huge loops of wool. Averagely weird clothes made weirder by large scale. Pretty sure he was wearing makeup as well. I swear to god, this guy is four donuts and a mini-stroke away from a floral muumuu.
- Big, tall black guy, purple pedal-pushers, purple ballet flats, purple sequined top, painted purple nails, perfectly coiffed, glossy curls under a purple fedora. Loudly telling someone on his silver :-( phone that she was his best friend and she understood him because they both told it like it was. I'm guessing it was purple.
- The (pre-op?) tranny hooker who comes into the shop. Worthy of a post of her own. Notable only because she got a new wig. And by the looks of it, a new john. Good for her.
- The Polish prostitute who normally wears an all-silver outfit that looks like something out of Eurovision, dressing down with white flip-flops, black tights with neon pink side stripes, dark purple tracksuit top with neon pink side stripes and a neon pink crop top. I guess she needed somewhere subtle to keep her huge fake boobs.
- Finishing with a personal favourite. The rest of her outfit (slashed tights, leather miniskirt, etc) was less than diverting by Soho standards, but I have to say I enjoyed the incongruity of the fact that she was wearing five inch heels and walking with a crutch. I'm sure that says something about fashion or modern women or stupid people, but I just don't know what it is.
Going back to the Winchesters now. Or Raymond Chandler. Haven't decided. It's hard to choose between actors who can run so convincingly and a writer who can crack a joke about the subjunctive.
