Back from set!

I've gone and done exactly what I meant not to do. It's take me over two weeks to post again. I entirely meant to post the day after the shoot, but I went to work, then I had a show, then I had to sleep, then and then and then ... you get the rest.

For the interested parties, then, let me fill you in how my first commerical shoot in about a decade went. (Photo courtesy jasonlam via Flickr's creative commons.)

To begin with, we did not, as I originally suspected, shoot outdoors. We shot against a green screen, which I was thought would look cheesy, since my character was in the woods. However, when I saw how they were going to use the footage and that the spot would look intentionally stylized, I understood it. As it was cold outside, I was fine with staying indoors. Though, I must admit, I was somewhat concerned it may actually be less comfortable under the hot lights (and they get hot, folks) than in the February briskness.

I did as the stylist had instructed me: packed anything in my closet that looks like it could go on the "campground." As I have not been camping in years, I owned a lot fewer of those options than I had thought. I brought a rolling carry on bag worth of clothes and a couple pair of beat up shoes. When I arrived at the studio, a production assistant was outside and asked if I was Molly or Gretchen. I told her I was Molly and then followed her instructions to the green room (aka, the waiting area, not to be confused with the green screen). Immediately, I reckoned they must've hired two "mothers" or maybe two "mother-daughter" sets, they'd shoot both and then blend the two. I later found out that Gretchen was the little girl who'd play my daughter. Of course! Why would a client spend all that money on two sets? Haven't I made enough products to know that a client is going to go for the cheapest way to get a message out?

The stylist sifted through my clothes and showed me the options she had purchased and we agreed to let the director decide, after she pulled her favorites. Into the makeup chair I went, in the meantime. That was great! On the only other shoots I've been on, in which I've been in front of the camera, I've had to use my own street make up and apply it myself. And I'm not cosmetically inclined so I have no idea how it looks, in the end. It felt great having someone else paint my face. Since we were shooting in high-def, she used high-def ready make up. I've always been amazed the few times I've gotten to see makeup artists do their stuff. The face really is their canvas.

It was when I was in the makeup chair that I got to meet my "daughter." And really, I should remove the quotes. I heard Gretchen and her mother enter the green room, just off from the makeup room, and then the little girl peeked her head into the make up room to see what was going on. What I saw was the spitting image of how I've imagined my daughter would look at age 5 or 6. She was a petite little thing with the same squarish shaped face as me; bright, gentle, round blue eyes; fair skin like mine, but more akin to Honey's coloring; and strawberry red hair - the same color I had from birth to about three - blunt cut just below her chin. I had, just two weeks earlier, gotten my near waist-length hair cut to just above shoulder-length. We looked like the same character at different periods in her life. It was uncanny. When I stepped out of the makeup room, her mother did a double-take. Frankly, I looked more like her mother than her own mother did. One crew member actually thought I was her mom before I had to direct him to the real "Gretchen's mom." For the rest of the time we were both on set, I could hear people murmuring, "Can you believe the resemblance?" and "They're not even related!" (The picture is of me at 5 - when my mom used to cut my bangs. I'm still kind of blown away by how much we look alike.) So, my hats off to casting. Well done, folks. Well. Done. [insert slow clap here]

I had already decided that I was going to attach myself to the kid, before knowing who was cast. My thoughts were 1) I'll be more comfortable if I have a partner; 2) there's a good possibility that she's been on sets more recently than I have, so I could follow her lead; 3) if she's a sweet kid, she'll probably be less intimidating to me than the crew, since I'm an out of practice novice and 4) if I want this relationship to look even remotely genuine, we've gotta do some quick "bonding." Luckily, Gretchen was exactly the kind of kid you want on set: sweet, well-behaved, articulate, bright, very comfortable around adults and strangers and still full of a sense of fun. Also luckily, her mother was warm and approachable. The stagemother stereotype is nasty and, I hope in most cases, unfair, but I'll admit I was concerned about it. She was not the stereotype. This is just what her kids do - like soccer or ballet. Gretchen and I chatted and got along really well. I was so glad she was comfortable in the realm of adults. Frankly, it reminded me of me when I was a gradeschooler. I was always more comfortable with adults than kids when I was a kid. It was well into my teen years before that shifted any, and I was in college before I preferred my peers' company over that my parents' peers. Yeah. I'm a dork.

We only had a few lines each, and only one scene together. It had been a while since I'd been on a set, and I couldn't remember how many takes people normally capture. I must have done a minimum of 20 takes for each line, trying to hit various moods that the director wanted. At some point, I know I zoned out during at least one or two reads. Autopilot took over and I tried to wrest back control, but I can't say for sure that I did. All in all, though, I felt like I kept my energy up, if not my mental stamina. I hope they got what they needed.

I probably shot a solid hour, maybe a few minutes more, of footage. Though with all the lighting adjustments, my total time in front of the green screen was probably closer to 2.5 hours. That, I could deal with. What surprised me was the photoshoot. Oh, yeah. This was news to me! Apparently, they're incorporating a print campaign. It has taken me a long time to feel comfortable in front of a motion picture camera - camera intimidation always manifested itself as facial tenion, and 90% of that was easily missing this time - but a still camera ... ? Still? As in posed work? I don't mind having my picture taken candidly or a striking a quick pose with friends, but deliberately posed studio stuff? Blech! Shake it off, Molly. They're paying you. Do your best.

I had a quick wardrobe change and tried to take direction from the photographers, adjusting miniscule head-tilts and hip-shifts. "Look proud, but concerned," was the direction I remember best. Huh? I tried to contort my face for their purposes. The shot they liked best of me, cracked me up. "That's not my 'proud' face. That's the look I get when I'm in an awkward conversation at a party and don't know how to get out of it," I told them. Oh, well. It's their baby.

All in all, it was a great day. I was in by 8:30 and wrapped by 2:30. And the pay for those 6 hours, even if it was what I would normally expect based on what little I know of typical pay in this area, would've been bigger than what I'm paid in a day at my current job. However, the compensation for this project was about 2 - 4 times what I've seen advertised for similar jobs, so this means in those 6 hours, I made more than I do in a week at my desk job - working full time. Sure, I'll have to pay an ugly chunk to self-employment tax, but I'm sincerely pleased!

The spot should start airing later this month or early next around the northeast quadrant of the United States. By that I mean if you were to cut a map of the continental U.S. in four mostly equal parts, then those in the upper right hand corner will probably see this spot. Apparently, they're going to focus the heaviest airing in the upper midwest.

Now, I have another notch in my belt, another piece to add to my resume. And I have another guidepost along this path of decision-making. I'm still not sure if acting is something I want to fully invest in, but it's becoming clear to me that maybe I should revisit it more often than I have in the last 10 years and explore it again. I've always known I can't go too long without acting. I perform regularly and am difficult to live with if I'm not on the stage often enough. But I don't want to take something I love and let it become a "job." I know Robert Frost says we should aim to marry our vocation with our avocation, but I don't ever want activities I love to feel like a chore. For me, I think there could be a fine line.

But you know what? I really don't have to make that decision right now. I'm not going to project this right now. I'm going to take it all one day at a time, because all I have is today, right? And today, I'm going to rehearse, write and walk the dog: three things I love.

My Preconceived Notions Are Wrong, Apprarently

As I think I've mentioned before, I recently cut back to a part-time schedule at work. The idea was that I would reduce work-related stress that was not only weighing on me, but Honey, and allow myself to re-evaluate my priorities and explore other activities and interests a little more. I've discovered that I really do like a part-time schedule. The last time I worked part time was about three years ago, and though I wasn't particularly thrilled with the actual work I was doing then (kind of as now), I found it worked well with my personality and temperament.

Despite the fact that I've not blogged as much as I should, I have been finding more opportunities to write - and about movies, no less; a personal favorite. And last week, on one of my days off, I decided on a whim to go to a casting call for a commercial. It was an open audition, the call for which crossed my inbox by way of a professional listerve I belong to. I hadn't been to a call like that in years. At least nine years - since before I moved to the east coast. I dressed the part, as well I could (outdoorsy early-30s mom) and just figured I'd go to get an idea of the experience. Not only had it been a long time since I'd done a casting call, I'd gone to precious few in the past, so I really did just want to get an idea of how these things ran. I got to the casting office, signed in, and was a little nervous; despite my attendance solely for the sake of curiosity, nerves still kicked in. Then I started looking at all the women there reading for the same part that I was there for. They were all at least 2" - 4" taller than me, and quite visibly leaner. I easily had 10 pounds on each of them. Their hair was better prepared and their make up more immaculate. Once I realized I was out of my league, I actually relaxed a lot more. They're not going to cast me. My resume is terribly thin, and most of it is related to Clinton-era college shows, and for as "outdoorsy momsy" as I may look in real life, I've worked in and around media enough to know you have to hire a hot mom, not a real mom. This isn't my primary career anyway, so I really have nothing to fear. I can just get this one under my belt and learn more for next time. When it was my turn to go into the room, I slated for the camera, did a few readings of the lines, adjusting them according to the director's requests, and was out in less than 3 or 4 minutes.

As per usual, I replayed the whole action in my head on the drive home, wondering if I could have done anything differently that would have made a better impression. Could've done this; could've done that. Oh well; these are definitely notes I'll remember for the next time, whenever the hell that may be. Also part of the mental meanderings on the ride home were: "Wow, that was fun! Do I want to get back into this? I know don't want to pursue a stage career, but what about commercials and the like? That's short; good for my interest span. But I hate hustling. But maybe I'm a better place in my life to do this now than when I was out of college. Hmm."

Then, the improbable happened. Yesterday afternoon, I was just plugging away at work when my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number, but answered anyway. It was the casting agency. Oh, this is the "thanks, but no thanks," call. I wasn't expecting it, but I think many places do that sort of thing, so ... "I'm calling to let you know that they'd like to use you," the agent's assistant stated matter of factly. "Okay," I replied, not missing a beat or betraying the extraordinary surprise I was actually feeling. She gave me the information I needed and later I talked to the stylist a couple of times in the evening to get an idea of what kind of personal wardrobe to bring, in addition to what she was bringing.

I was in a tickly haze for about an hour after the call. I went to this audition, as a whim; as a shy toe to test the water. I wasn't expecting to be cast at all. I'm terribly excited - scared, since I'm normally before a live audience, not a camera - but excited. I'll be getting call time and more information later today. We'll be shooting outside, so I'm sure it'll be seriously cold, but as I'm positive I'll have a lot of nerves racing, I don't know that I'll be freezing. In retrospect, maybe they cast me because I really do look like I could be someone's mom, not an unattainable, idealized hot mom. Maybe I exude a playful nurturing? One of my best friends thinks it helps that I have a very corn-fed, middle-America look (think Jessica Lange or Jodie Foster) ie, prone to be outdoors. So my strawberry-amber mane, my stubborn jawline and my ample hips and bosom paid off for me this time. Who'd've thunk?

All I know is: I'm more comfortable with the idea of my being cast, now. And I've decided to approach this with a sense of fun. When I'm thrown into performance situations with new people with whom I've never performed, I find I'm braver in my performances, because I have no preconceptions. Well, this will be an all new bunch for me. Preconceptions are just speedbumps. This will also be a good learning experience. Hopefully, it'll help me decide if this is something I am interested in pursuing more regularly. I'm not competitve by nature, and when I was in college and immediately after, I felt like auditioning was competing and I hated it. But I'm older (hopefully wiser) now, and maybe I can change my attitude: it's not a competition, it's a chance to play and have fun. I perform - and audition - so much better when I have fun.

The shoot is a day away. Right now, I'm calm and eager. If I can just stay out of my head, it'll all be great. Deep breaths; load the iPod; no preconceived notions.

* photo courtesy of Penguin Feeding Time via Flickr Creative Commons

WMML for the last few days

Yes. I'm ripping off the title of this post from the regular feature on Sonnjea's blog. But imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so I hope she takes it as such.

Thank goodness for John McCain. Without him, a sophomoric joke from The Office that has had Honey and me in stitches since Thursday would've probably petered out by now. ("Petered out? Then why am I pregnant?" Hey-oh!)

In the season premiere of The Office, the folks at Dunder Mifflin were having an office weigh-in to compete in their company-wide summer weight loss challenge. As they crowded on the warehouse scale, Dwight was trying to get people to eat more to skew the results, so their end loss would be larger. He walked up to one of his officemates and held an eclair to her face. "Here, eat this eclair. If you can't swallow, at least hold it in your mouth." The camera focused on Jim who clearly got a kick out of Dwight's request. It took a few beats for me to figure out that it was a double entendre, but I've been riding it all week. Both Honey and I have been walking around the house looking for excuses to say, "If you can't swallow, at least hold it in your mouth." Yes. We're extraordinarily mature!

Around Sunday night, the joke started aging a little. But thankfully, the Republican candidate for the Presidency revived it for us. Monday morning, 6AM: we're sitting in the kitchen, checking emails, reading the news, etc and listening, as we do every morning to Morning Edition. The reporter is delivering a story about McCain and the bailout plan. They play a clip (about 15 seconds into this file) and McCain says something that rouses Honey and me out of our groggy Monday morning stupors. "This is something that all of us will swallow hard and go forward with."

Immediately, we died laughing. Awww, yeeeaaaahhhh! If you can't swallow the bailout, at least hold it in your mouth, America.

Our reaction was completely juvenile, I know. And, that I've been mashing up those two bits of media in my brain have kept me giggling for a week speaks to my utter lack of sophistication. But it certainly woke me up, on a morning when I so dreaded going into work that I wanted to cry. And it woke me up enough to really get a good workout on the Wii Fit - something I hadn't done in weeks. So ... thank you, John McCain. You are a Monday morning hero to this young woman!

Apropos of nothing. In fact, inappropriate

WARNING: If you're easily offended by bodily functions and non-medical/clinical discussions thereof, then it may be better for you to check out another blog.

Alright, so tonight I should be writing content which may or may not be used in collateral to be distributed at a fundraiser I hope to attend this weekend, but haven't really delved far into my wallet to see what kind of coin I can afford to part with these days. Yesterday I attended a baby dedication for a friend (or rather, for his baby) at a Unitarian church where I had several years previous, attended a memorial service for a former coworker, and I had been planning to blog on religion, ritual and variations on the theme. However, musings on religious expression will have to wait, and before I proceed with my writing assignment tonight, I simply must share with the few of you who read this what simultaneously turned my stomach and tickled my funny bone (all foreshadowed puns intended) this evening.

Honey and I have been watching The Tudors on iTunes; the first season anyway. It's totally as trashy as the website makes it out to be, but it's also got plastrin-front gowns! lutes! plague! Northam, Neill and Jonathan Rhys Meyers! Tonight, we watched the 10th (and I believe final) episode of season one. It opens with the young King Henry VIII masturbating into a cloth being held open by a servant-boy. I kid you not. I can't help but laugh just thinking about it!

The scene is awkward to say the very, very least. It cut away to shots of Anne Boleyn's heaving breasts and then back to the young king straining and whacking (all seen from the waist up). And just as the king came, we saw a closeup of Anne's delicate hands piercing a threaded needle through a piece of embroidery she was working on. Then, with the king spent, the servant, who had previously had his face maybe a foot from the royal junk and turned away (a wise choice in his position, I must admit), gets up, bows to the king, and holding the cloth slightly slack, leaves the room.

The way the scene played out, it seemed like Henry was working off some morning wood. Now, I have no idea if this was common practice for male monarchs to employ a manservant to accept his "kingliness," as it were. Though no history buff myself, per se, I place no faith in the historical accuracy of this series; I see it more as costume-drama porn set against the skeleton of historical events. All that said: what worse job could there be in the court than to be the Royal Jizz-catcher? Who did you have to piss of to get that assignment? I should hope that promotion was swift. My God! I'd much rather scrub the peasants' outhouses than have to spend each morning with my face inches from the sweaty scepter, praying that his aim was good. (Massive shudder!) I would be begging God every day for tuberculosis or the plague or leprosy to get me out of that job!

I was icked out by that for at least the first 5 minutes of the show. I wish I could tell you what transpired in those first five minutes, but I was temporarily blind. That's right: masturbation blinded me. All these years of the real stuff did nothing to my vision; seeing the staged version on TV blacked me out for five.

I apologize if I grossed anyone out. Mostly. This was just too weird and hilarious to keep to myself. ... I suppose it's discussing these sort of things that keeps be from being invited to posh places and events. This, and the fact that I'm not well-heeled.

OMGs, i love BSG! ... and more TV

so i've had lots of thoughts swarming around in my head the last few weeks that i'd love to blog on: the Pope's papa faux pas; Jack Straw's concern over full-body cloaking clothing; Mark Foley and though HYlarious as it is, the real non-event that it is as well ... and of course most recently, Mr. "Oh-so-Ronery's" test of a nuclear bomb somewhere north of the DMZ. However, i also haven't had a lot of time to post about these, so hopefully i'll get a chance to ponder and wonder a little later. in the meantime, i'm going to do today's triple rave about this season's crop of television shows (thanks to Clare):

1. BATTLESTAR GALACTICA - i've said it once and i'll say it again: the best damned show on television. if you're not already watching it, rent the first two seasons on DVD, get yourself caught up and then quake with wonder in front of your telelvision set. the way the writers keep the audience living in the complete moral ambiguity that is fear, war, hope, faith and life itself is absolutely awe-inspiring. (and does anyone think that Leoben pushed that little girl down the stairs or is it just Honey and me? it smells fishy! run, Starbuck, run!!)

2. Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip - just finished watching an episode tonight. oh, Aaron Sorkin, how i missed you! The West Wing went nowhere when you left. but you ... you came back. you came back because you LOVE us! yea, Sorkin! (and as a side note, i'm totally excited for the premier of "30 Rock" tomorrow night. i adore Tina Fey and Honey is in love with her. we have high hopes!)

3. The Office - when i first saw the american take on this british import, i was unimpressed. Ricky Gervais slays me. but then it became good somewhere along the way and now it's completely great! you darling are keeping fresh and i love that about you. Michael Scott seems to be even more painfully awkward this season so far than he has been in the last two seasons. and it's awesome. but WTF? Jim flirting with the chick at his new office? damn those writers! how dare they toy with our affections like that? everyone knows that Pam and Jim are meant to be together. she bought new clothes for God's sake!

"Lost" lust and feminist guilt

I've been pretty darned remiss in posting, lately, but not nearly so much as one of my blog-dulgences, TexasWhip. I don't know where those guys have disappeared to. My excuse? I've been hosting guests, working overtime a lot and we're in the process of buying a house, so I have to spend my freetime freaking out.

Since we've been waiting for Battlestar Galatica to resume for season 3, Honey and I have been catching up on that more mainstream TV phenom, Lost. The pilot was so-so, but I've been surprised how quickly we've been drawn in. We're loading up on season one on Netflix. It's crazy. Lost falls into common sentimental traps of TV writing at least once every episode or two, but for the most part, the story is really fascinating. I love the X-files feel to everything. Freaks my ass out. And I recently discovered that the actor who plays the hottie Iraqi soldier, Sayid, for whom I must mop up my drool, is also the same actor who played the lucious Sikh soldier, Kip in the English Patient.

On another note ... Thursday night, a girlfriend and I went to see another mutual girlfriend perform in a play. The show was written in '75 or '76, but basically at the height of the modern feminist movement. I question the director's choice to remount the show. It was just five women monologuing on their lives (our friend's performance, btw, was the best part of the show; she was the most natural and played the most levels. She's almost as much a delight to watch as she is to know.). While I sat there listening to this show, it suddenly occured to me that the basic sentiments being expressed in this piece were the underlying reasons why I feel guilty for not being a bigger breadwinner in my family, for actually wanting to have babies and, on very rare occasions, for being married. The gist of the monologuing women's pieces was this: "My life was what it was: sometimes good, sometimes bad, but my own. And then I met a man and had children, or an abortion. My life was never my own after that and I'm miserable." The only character who wasn't miserable was loopy. The play told me, "You should not be happy." It was also kind of like, between the lines, I could hear the 80s Barbie, saying, "Molly, I told you, 'We girls can do anything!' It's 2006! You're not doing the 'anything' things I was trying to inspire you to do! You may as well be one of these characters!"

I bore in mind that the show was written in the 70s and 30 years ago, this was probably the perfect piece. There's gotta be a period in every social movement when those who are moving up have to work through the demons of why they're moving up. I'm suspicious of groups who do not vent emotionally. But I really failed to see how this piece was compelling today. Though the womens' emotional experiences may not have been anachronistic entirely, it seemed their social experiences were so too far removed from my own understanding of women in America, today (ie, the thought that you can't go to college, just because you're a woman) that it just rang self-important and insincere. All of this could be a by-product of the play's production not supporting the material as well as it could have. I don't know.

To recap, the play tells me: "Marriage makes you lose your sense of self. Family suffocates you. It is better to be lost alone than a lost matron. You should not want these things." But here is what I know: I love my husband with all my being - even when he drives me nuts. I love my marriage with all my heart. And I am very, very happy with both. And for those reasons, I really did not like the theme of the play, as I perceived it. But I definitely congratulate my girlfriend on her performance. Darling, you made that show bearable and thank you, for actually finding the humor in the piece!

Colbert's ThreatDown Nails it!

Here's one for the "holy shit" files: some bears at a Dutch zoo ate a monkey! Can you imagine the creepiness of behing at that park? What a freaky family outing! Life ain't Disney, kids.

while it's on my mind ...

Honey sent me this link a few days ago. I thought it was kind of neat. I don't know what kind of video blahblahblah you need to view it with, but it should just stream on for you. Enjoy the live Simpsons intro!

What's on that's good ...

I don't watch much television. Mostly on weekends, I see what we've got on TiVo. TiVo, by the way, is the best thing to happen to TV ever. For people like me who might otherwise be TV addicted, it helps us sift the crap (mostly) and prioritize. It's nice not having to fumble with video tapes or having to be a slave to a TV schedule. Anyway ... TV is a vast wasteland, but there are some oases out there. Here are some that I enjoy, in no particular order. Probably predictable, but who cares?

The Boondocks. I've always loved the comic strip, and in some ways I think I still prefer the strip to the show. However, the show is just beautifully irreverent that it makes the perfect complement to the strip. It's like the subtext of the strip is finally spoken.

The Simpsons. It has not jumped the shark. And even if it has, screw it. I likes me some shark fin soup. It still has juice.

Battlestar Galactica. I froth at the mouth. Politics, religion, terrorism, human anhiliation, sexy mutha f*ckin' robots, badass women who rule the place, Edward James Olmos, and they didn't keep that stupid kid from the miniseries. What more do you want?

American Dad. Hilarious skewer for post-9/11 American Suburbia. Yes, yes, I know I'm supposed to worship at the altar of the Family Guy. But I never really got into the Family Guy. This one just does it more for me.

The Colbert Report. I didn't think he could top his point-counterpoint schtick on Daily Show, but he has. And many nights I think he eclipses he good friends at the Daily. Granted it's a different kind of satire, but thank God someone has taken on mocking the self-important. It helps me breathe.

The Daily Show. When I think back to my initial reluctance to think the show would survive the transition from Kilborn to Stewart, I hang my head in shame. The show has become so much better than it ever could be. It's kind of choppy right now with some staff changes, but it'll pull through. It has to: for me, for America, for 9-11!

Arrested Development. Okay. I know. It's gone, now. But since May isn't here yet, and that's technically the end of the TV season ... let's just pretend. Can we? Just for me?

The Office. I refused to watch it after the pilot was almost a verbatim ripoff of the British pilot. However, always the believer in redemption, I've given it another go. They've done a good job of letting it develop its own flesh on the British frame. It's genuinely laugh out loud funny.

It seems my taste in television runs towards the male-dominated, or at least toward a predominantly male audience. Either that, or there just isn't much good female-dominated programming. That's disheartening. I know you're saying, "Oh, but there's Desperate Housewives." Yeah, but I haven't been able to get into that. Perhaps that'll be my TV mission: find addictive female dominated shows ... that don't include that lisping nerve-grater Geena Davis.

Battlestar, you beast!

Due to a couple of weeks that have been both emotionally crappy and socially hectic, we had fallen behind in our Battlestar. This week, we caught up to see what had been going on. I really like how in the first season, Starbuck was defined as the bombastic, overly confident fighter pilot. I fell in love with her. I love her still, but I've really been appreciating that in this season, we've been watching her battle some demons. AND I liked that in the episode, "Scar," she has to eat crow when her commadre (whose name I forget, but whose hair I like) is the one who takes him down. However - and judging by the few glances I've taken at other blogs, and from talking to my honey, I'm the only one who was surprised by this - I was totally surprised that the writers let Billy bite it in the following epsiode, "Sacrifice." Yes, roll your eyes now, folks; I still didn't think it would be him. On the one hand, I want to give props to the writers for offing a high profile character, something usually only reserved for folks who are around for just 1 -3 episodes. On the other, I LOVED BILLY! He was so sweet and smart. He reminded me of my own beloved. And stupid "what's-her-name" didn't know how good she had it. Though she was right to warn Billy not to reach for the terrorist's gun; he didn't have any military training was her rationale. And now President Roslin is completely without anything resembling family. I love that lady. Even in the episodes when I hate her. I wonder when we're going to see Sharon have her baby. That'll be a cool period. I can't wait for that. For the moment, I think she's really with the humans.

Man, I love this show. I love it mostly because as a non-sci-fi geek, they've reeled me in. Hell, I remember, as a child watching the original Battlestar and thinking not only was it over-blown tripe, it was clearly a very bad Star Wars knock-off. I could smell that when I was 5! And I didn't want to like it this time around, but damn! Knock me over with a feather. Normally, I really can't get into sci-fi shows or anything that heavily militaristic, but this is really a human and political drama. Last season they pretty clearly established the whole philosophical grey area of the human-cylon conflict. This season, I think it's mostly inter-human politics and strategizing, which is also interesting. But I hope we get back to the whole "who is our enemy" theme. To me, that's the juice.

... btw, Niamh, I realize that in England you guys can pretty much only get it via internet downloads, so I'm sorry if I spoiled anything for you.