Fifty Third Post

As we approach finals week, I find myself less and less inclined to do homework. Rather, I have taken to watching Doctor Who, both the old and new series somewhat simultaneously.
The old series is kind of hilarious. It's got intriguing plotlines and terrible costumes, effects, and fight choreographers. I'm in 1964, and it's in black and white. William Hartnell is the first Doctor, and in this season, he and his 15-year-old granddaughter Susan (I have yet to figure that one out) are trying to return two british schoolteachers, Ian and Barbara, back to London, 1964. Unfortunately, the Tardis is rather broken. Instead of returning them, it drifts aimlessly through space-time, dropping them in unfortunate places about the universe. I'm almost done with the first season, though, and I have high hopes for their safe return.
The villains are... Well, they're more to be pitied than mocked, since they have such terrible costumes. The Daleks, of which I know only through nerd culture references, are introduced early on, although I doubt that they are intended to be a far-reaching series villain. At one point, the group runs across a race of rubber suit-wearing villains with odd headdresses, and that same story arc also features a brain with eyes that lives in a jar. The villains grow more sophisticated as the series continues, and in the second-to-last story arc (I cheated and looked at the descriptions for the next couple episodes to see when the story arc ended), the villains are actually humans trying to kill off an alien race.
I mentioned that I'm also watching the new series, which is only four or five... maybe six seasons along now, as opposed to the 20-odd seasons that the original series boasts. It picks up where the original series left off, featuring the ninth Doctor (played by Christopher Eccleston). He's nothing like the first, which is to be expected. It did throw me off, however, when I watched an episode with an energetic middle-aged action-hero man who saves London from an invasion of animated plastic with the help of a 19-year-old London girl (Rose Tyler, a long-running companion, according to the infographics that keep popping up in my RSS feed) before watching an episode with two suspicious teachers and a cranky old man living in a telephone box in a junkyard (and nothing much else happened).
It was less than promising. However, even in the 20th century, they didn't make 20-odd seasons of a TV show if there was no interest. With any luck, the series would get better. Plus, I keep hearing about a guy with a scarf... the fourth Doctor, I think. I want to make a similar scarf, but I'm not going to until I've seen at least three episodes with him wearing the scarf. Imagine the awkward, nerd-cred destroying conversation with a true believer:
True Believer (TB): "...I like your scarf."
Me: "Thanks."
TB: "Make it yourself?"
Me: "Uh, yeah. It's my Doctor Who scarf."
TB: (excited and suspicious, and justifiably so) "You've seen the original series?"
Me: "Well, some of it..."
TB: "Have you seen the episode with the fourth Doctor when he... (describes episode)?"
Me: "Erm, no. I'm still in the first Doctor's seasons."
TB: "..." (hopes crushed)
Me: (forever labeled as poser)

So yeah, I'm going to wait, no matter how much I want that incredibly long, incredibly stripey nerd culture icon.
I do feel, however, that I have seen enough episodes to qualify for a Tardis mug, found on thinkgeek.com (what a wonderful site!).
Here's some photoshopped fun from the wedding in England (or is it photoshopped? Hmm?).

Also, I realised how crotchety I'm getting when I reread the bit about "even in the 20th century". I'm not sure if that makes me elitist against the 20th century or what, because it really wasn't that long ago. Besides, I spent a pretty solid half of my life in the 1990s. Of course, I watched things like Zoom, Other PBSkids Shows, Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, Sesame Street, Barney, Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy, The Price is Right, MacGyver, Hercules, and Xena: Warrior Princess. I may have also caught a couple episodes of a show with Superman in it, since I have odd memories of phone booths and underwear right before a meeting to which the guy with glasses was late. I was under the impression for a few weeks that when one wanted to dress business casual, superhero costumes were in order. I was also convinced that any trouble I found myself in could be solved by having MacGyver around. Hercules or Xena would also be suitable alternatives.
In retrospect, I'm really not sure why my parents let me watch these shows. Anyway, I now pick my own shows, half of which are for the shirtless men that inhabit the strange world of TV land. It's not like I get any attractive men without shirts at college, and a girl has her needs.
That sounded weird, so it's time for bed. Goodnight, world.