Some damfine TV, damfine

It's neat listening to an actor in a couple different voices. Now that I've listened to John Hannah play cop with brogue in the Rebus series, I could spot the Scot in his voice in this production of "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde", that was broadcast this evening on Bravo. (No spoilers in this post.) I thought it was really good, and I realize I've either never read the original novella (by Robert Louis Stevenson), or I read it so long ago I don't remember any of it. That does mean I can't comment on it as an adaptation.

Anyway, just re-affirming the John Hannah love, and I must admit, there's one scene where -- well, let's just say I'm down with this kind of doppleslash.

Frabbledy-FOO!

Why did I friggin' BOLT awake at 8am when the alarm went off? My god. Normally I don't even hear that little fucker. Maybe my circadian is getting back to normal. That would be good.

Speaking of (staying up late nights)...the security guard here at my complex doesn't exactly *stalk* me, but it's kind of weird that he knows when I go to bed. Well, of course he knows, he's the night guy and is supposed to be up on things, and I go to bed at 2 or 3am, especially recently. And my windows face into the main courtyard. Anyone who wants can tell what time I go to bed.

But, whenever I go to empty my trash in the middle of the night, or write my checks and take them to the mailbox at two in the morning, THERE HE IS, asking me what I'm doing up so late.

I went out a couple weeks ago about 10 or 11 pm to get something to drink -- I think I wanted Southern Comfort on the rocks or something -- and THERE HE WAS, asking me what I was doing going out so late at night. Said he was going to tell my mom on me. Of course, I just laughed and said it wasn't late to *me*, and offered to swing by Taco Bell for him if they were still open. He waves his finger at me and tells me I'd better "come straight back".

Creepy, yet not, at the same time.

And then last week, I heard a shitload of weird noises, so, being nosy, I headed down to the dumpster like the fog on little cat feet, only with my bag of trash and what did I spy but a police car and a U-Haul truck right by my garage door? Well, of course I decided now would be a fine time to throw out some old boxes, too, and scope the situation while playing innocent.

Go ahead, ask me if I do that a lot. Yeah, I do.

So I promptly pad out again and there's the security guy threatening to tell my mother that I'm up so late! In front of two cops and the midnight movers, I'm getting this paternal weirdness from a guy in his mid-to-late 40's who must just be incapable of believing that I am a grown up. I'm so short and cute and young-looking. God, I know I look young, but do I *sound* like a teenager, or even a fresh-faced juicy co-ed? I think not.

So I just laugh again, and tell him my mother's an early-bird type and would not appreciate be woken up at that hour, and then he walks me to the dumpster and I get some of the skinny on why the cops and what-not were there (big hoo-raw between some roommates and rent money). So, I got what I wanted.

But, dude! Stop bugging me about staying up late! I'm unemployed, for Christ's sake! My mother knows what hours I keep! (Better than that, she knows I can whip your ass, regardless of the hour.)

*Sheesh*