Paramount Plaques

7 of Fine! Jeri Ryan was here!

7 of Fine! Jeri Ryan was here!

Every Star Trek except DS9, plus NCIS: Los Angeles.

Every Star Trek except DS9, plus NCIS: Los Angeles.

I shoulda checked if that anachronism still worked or was just a prop. . .

I shoulda checked if that anachronism still worked or was just a prop. . .

Star Trek movies are Pretty in Pink

Star Trek movies are Pretty in Pink

Katherine Heigl was here! So was Terry Farrell!

Katherine Heigl was here! So was Terry Farrell!

Facebook Memories reminded me that it’s been a year since my visit to the set of NCIS: Los Angeles. Walking around the lot doesn’t make for many great shots, with almost everything inside the stages, so I had to make fun by shooting the historical plaques that mentioned shows I loved, or at least actresses I enjoyed looking at.

 

;o)

Top 15 Favorite TV Shows, 2014 Edition

You know the rules: network TV only, no cable or Netflix, though I will mention a few of those at the end.

15. NCIS: New Orleans
Not a Bakula fan, but love Zoe McClellan since her time on JAG. There’s an easygoing Suthin’ charm to the show, which is to be expected in N’awlins, I guess.

14. Bad Judge
It’s awesome seeing the always cool and collected Kate Walsh be such an utter goofball.

13. Hart of Dixie
This show has only gotten better with the more frequent appearances of Kaitlyn Black, by the far the best character on the show.

12. CSI
Having been rejuvenated by Shue and Danson, it almost feels like the early years, though better. Perhaps that’s due to Jorja Fox coming back.

11. Rookie Blue
As long as Missy Peregrym keeps bringing it, I’ll keep watching it.

10. Criminal Minds
Not nearly the same since Paget left, but still fascinating in its delvings into the psychopathic mind.

9. NCIS
Another show rejuvenated by a new cast member. Nothing against Ziva, but the new girl has so much more personality, and since she’s married we don’t get Tony being his usual annoying self hitting on her all the time. (Don’t worry, he’s still annoying in other ways, especially with McGee.)

8. Wipeout
There’s nothing left to say, only enjoy: the wipeouts, the snark, Jill in such tight jeans they look to be borrowed from her 12-year-old sister. . .

7. Marvel’s Agents of SHIELD
Have to admit to a bit of disappointment here with the plotting and the pace, but watching Coleson and May will never not be fun. Skye isn’t as wonderful as she usta be, though. . .

6. Big Bang Theory
Another one that just keeps rolling along, doing what it does best, which is making me laugh at people even geekier than me. . .

5. NCIS:LA
Never thought I would have it this low, but ever since that horrible plot used to cover Daniela Ruah’s pregnancy–sending Kensi to Afghanistan to snipe her former fiancé–it’s been tough to get back into. Still one of the best shows around, though.

4. Forever
Even in the show they had to mention Alana DeLaGarza’s cheekbones. Beyond that, the leads have the kind of chemistry all TV pairings wish they had and only Castle has achieved lately. Though I do wonder if Henry’s killed in Brooklyn or the other side of Manhattan if he’ll be reborn in another body of water. . .

3. Whose Line Is It Anyway?
Aisha Tyler is more fun than Drew Carey. Miss some of the guys from the previous shows, but the new ones are just as good, and once in a while the celeb guests really hit it out of the park.

2. Castle
Far from going downhill with them getting married, this show just keeps chugging delightfully along. The western was my fave epi since the second season.

1. State of Affairs
You all know by now I love Katherine Heigl, but this show would be almost as spectacular without her. It’s quite obvious their consultants and writers know their stuff, and I am frequently impressed by the variety of plots they conjure up. That being said, I’ve got a few story ideas floating in the noggin, if they ever need them. . .

On Netflix
Warehouse 13
This is what happens when creative people make a show where anything goes; they frequently go anywhere and everywhere, in a good way.

Continuum
Always liked Rachel Nichols, but this shows just how well she can act. At times the story is fascinating, at others tough to follow–changing to a different timeline, for example–she grounds the story with her fish-out-of-water attempt to get back to her time and family.

Lost Girl
Possibly the first nice succubus in history. The snark flies at full speed between her, wolf boy, 2 female humans, a no-longer king, and various other powerful creatures, now including a gorgeous blonde Valkyrie. . . but aren’t they all blonde?

Hinterland
Mostly gritty, sometimes weird, detective show set in Wales. The main character could be a little more. . . human, and I’m so tired of seeing damaged cops on TV–and hope to never see them in person–but some of the stuff here is as fascinating as Criminal Minds.

Mythbusters
Where else can you go to get your myths busted? Even the narrator is hilarious as they take the experiments to their logical conclusions. . . and then well beyond. Hope Grant’s leg has healed from when the karma hammer smacked him. . .

The Wall
As hard as it is to watch Gillian Anderson as anyone but Scully–the blonde hair helps–she’s amazing as an incredibly cold-hearted detective on the hunt for a serial killer in Northern Ireland, played by the guy who’s gonna be the lead in 50 Shades, I’m told. . .

;o)

Mondays Really Are No Fun Days

Ever have one of those days where both good and bad things happened, and you can’t decide if overall it was a good day or not?
Yeah, it’s like that. . .
Usually after 40 minutes on a bus I get off at Union Station to take the subway, but I was feeling good enough–i.e. not needing to go to the restroom–to keep going the extra 20 minutes through downtown traffic to my first destination, the Yorkshire Grill, near the corner of 6th and Grand. I’ve been there enough times so that most of the waitresses remember me and know my order, especially Belinda, who as usual jokes about extra pickles. . . still not funny, babe.
From there I walked over to 7th and Metro to catch the Expo Line to Exposition Park, hoping to avoid walking anywhere near U$C this time on the way to the podiatrist. As it turns out the Rose Garden is closed till March, even though you can see plenty of blooms, so I drifted left to go around it, walking past the African-American museum and coming out near the Science Center. . . where I saw a Blackbird. By that I mean the awesome plane from the 60s, so I had to pause to photograph it. With that done I retraced my steps to exit the park through the gate, only to find it locked; how different my day would have been if it hadn’t been.

IMG_20150105_094932 IMG_20150105_095409
So I went back to the Blackbird and saw someone walking through the parking lot and out of the park, so I followed. Crossed the driveway toward the Coliseum, and got onto a gravelly sort of walk paralleling the sidewalk on Figueroa Blvd. Reaching back for my wattle bottle on the side of my camera backpack, I didn’t see the hole–I took a picture, you can’t see it anyway–and stepped right in, causing my ankle to planch forward and straining the ligaments, though I wasn’t aware of that at the time, falling onto my hands and knees, sending the water bottle, the backpack, and my MP3 player flying past me.
So yeah. . . I’m sitting there in major pain, and of course no one walking by asks if I’m okay. Perhaps my rueful grin discouraged them, but finally I manage to ouchie my way back up, brush off, settle things back in place–if my cameras are damaged I am so suing–and limp off to the corner and then into the podiatrist’s office. Some people find it ironic this happened on the way to the foot doctor, but it’s really just sad.

Can you see a hole? Neither could I.

Can you see a hole? Neither could I.

So she cleans up my cuts and checks my foot–the one I was going there for her to examine–but neglects to wrap my ankle. Leaving there I walk on the street until I’m well past the danger spot before turning back into the park, making it as far as the science center before needing to rest the injured forelock. The McDonald’s is being redone, but the science center has free wifi, so I’m there for a while before getting the energy to walk around the rose garden again–this time on the Museum of Natural History side–back to the train.
Feeling extremely sorry for myself, I transfer back to the subway and go to Union Station, where in the last month there are now shoeshines. My shoes were obviously a mess, and for 6 bucks I don’t care how many people stare at me as they pass. Once that was done it was back to the subway–good thing I got the day pass–and a quick trip to the bank, then off to the library for some more wifi until I got hungry and went back to Yorkshire for another bacon and egg on wheat. This time it was Tatiana who took my order, and she always forgets when I tell her to hold the pickle. After that I ordered yet another sandwich to go, so I could have all three meals with bacon and egg. Unfortunately I didn’t notice the smell of pickle coming from the bag until much later. . .
It was a hard uphill as I limped to the other side of the library to catch the Wilshire express, but at least that was a nonevent; I might have even fallen asleep, and I’m sure that girl with the Cal State LA backpack wasn’t eye-flirting with me. The walk up Westwood Blvd. to UCLA was even more painful, but I persevered, just like I spent a lot more time than I should have looking for just the right thing to gift myself with the 20% off alumni coupon at BruinWear. All the hoodies I liked I already had, but finally found a non-hoodie sweater with a very sleek look and settled for that, especially since it was cheaper.
After a quick trip to Jamba Juice I limped over to Pauley Pavilion, where the least said about the Women’s Basketball team’s performance, the better. Left before the end, putting on my new sweater, and did a quick walk to the bus stop, much faster and less painful than I expected; perhaps I’d be okay for the long walk from the opera on Friday. Easy 40 minute bus ride along Sunset, got to Hotel Cafe while the previous act was still on. James is back as doorman–haven’t seen him in ages–and managed to grab a seat toward the front, if on the side.
Took a while for things to happen between acts, but finally there’s Josh Kelley climbing toward the stage, only to be stopped by some old friends. I took the opportunity to ask him if it was okay to take photos, to which he responded, “Fuck yeah!” Had I waited about two seconds more I would have turned around and quite literally run into Katherine Heigl; as it was she was safe, though I couldn’t help smiling at her as I sat back down. A couple of years ago I met one of my other favorite actresses, Daniela Ruah, and I mentioned how amazed I was at how calm I acted around her. Take it up to 11 here; there I was sitting next to my all-time #1, and. . . nothing. Didn’t even say hi. Later on I spotted another actress I like, Paula Trickey, but didn’t bother her either.
So, on to the concert. Josh Kelley definitely entertained me despite–or because of–his potty mouth; his wife should really do something about that. Among the songs that he played that I liked: It’s Your Move–he mentioned it was new–You’re my Angel, Tidal Wave, and Mandolin Rain. I also enjoyed Georgia Clay a lot more here than the studio version. A couple of times he went into a plainly dorky dance as he tried to rap and/or scat, but it was all in good fun–I hope. He told a story about vampires that suck fat instead of blood, and did a parody of the Doobie Brothers had they worked at McDonald’s: What A Fool Would Eat. The best complement I can give him is that he reminds me of Joshua Kadison.
So as I left my ankle, which seems to have caught on to Josh’s word choice, was screaming “What the fuck, dude? Stop walking!” at me, but I had to go the three blocks to the subway and there was nothing the ankle could do about it but what it was meant to do. I’d never seen Hollywood so empty, so at least I didn’t have to fight through crowds. For once there was no trouble with transportation and I got home around 11, where I said to hell with all the usual goodnight stuff and simply conked out, which at least got the ankle to shut up. . .
As always, Hotel Cafe too dark for good photos; this was the best I could do. Basketball photos coming later.

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;o)