"You want bigger hands? I can do that!"

I've just being watching repeats of Whose Line is it Anyway?

I really used to love that show. But maybe I do see gayness everywhere. Yes, I'm looking at you Caroline Quentin and Josie Lawrence. I saw that sly arse pat, Caroline.

Dear god I need a life.

In other news, GP has gone trekking for a couple of weeks. The sad thing is, I think I'm actually more boring without her here. It hasn't been a case of "Quick, the girlfriend's gone! Break out the strippers!" more "Quick, the girlfriend's gone! Break out the extra salt at mealtimes!"

I think I'll try an episode of South of Nowhere now. I've been seeing articles about for ages on AfterEllen, so it's definitely something I've been meaning to try and watch.

A quicky

While watching episode four, I had the thought: do you think there could have been something going on between Ruth (I really hope that's her name because that's what I'm calling her from now on) and Sarah? Just seems to me they had a vibe in the evaluation scene...but then again I've been accused of seeing gayness everywhere before.


On a lighter note: the evil hair returns! Bravo hair department. You'd be able to spot she has a bad attitude and a penchant for naughtiness a mile off. Run away, bar dude! Can you not see from the hair that this isn't going to end well? Didn't your mother ever teach you not to bed a girl with evil hair?

a break from the bionics

thoughts after watching the pilot for the new bionic woman.

Hmm. Michelle Ryan is pretty.

Katee Sackhoff also pretty.

I can imagine a fem-slash contingent growing up around these two, especially with lines like:

"What do you want from me?"

"Honestly? I don't really know."

But...a few small criticisms (and that's no small thing for me to say that - I even liked 'Catwoman' the first time I saw it. I did regain sense upon repeat viewing, however). Firstly, what happened to Michelle Ryans' face? Answer: Nothing. Nada. Not a thing. Whether dealing with eye and ear implants suddenly revving up or having a deep and meaningful threatening discussion with the head of the lab at the end...there was just nothing going on. I like her, I do, and I know that I could like the show, but I would have liked a bit more...emotion, I guess. A bit more of a feeling like...well. The girl's lost her baby, had half her body replaced by god knows what without her knowledge or consent and has gotten involved with a shadowy government agency who obviously want her to play things their way and...I just would have liked to see some of that conflict. How horrible must it feel to look at yourself in the mirror and know that half of what you're looking at isn't actually yours? And how horrible must it feel to know that some one's been playing around in your brain and adding who knows what?

Also, humour. Maybe I've been spoiled by years and years of Joss Whedon telly but would a little humour kill the writers? A snarky comment here, an inappropriate joke there...I mean, that's how people are. Funny just bursts out. Is it just me who sits here and watches stuff like this and adds funny lines in my head to what the characters are saying? I'd write one here, but I've forgotten them all already. Oh, well.

Oh, final comment: I loved Sarah Corvus's "I've been a bad, bad girl" slicked yet big bouffant hair.

I mean...that's evil hair.

I've just watched the teaser for episode two, so I guess I'll give it a go. It can't hurt, right?

Thoughts while watching the second ep:

How does she afford such a nice apartment?

Has she done something weird with her hair? I know I woke up yesterday with a weird 1920's style side-parting (impressive when your hair goes past your shoulders). It made me feel like I should have been slicking it down and Charleston-ing around the office.

One arm chin-ups...who knew they were so sexy?

Hehe, Ruth - is it? - drives a muscle car. I loved you in Third Watch!


Okay, I must have actually started watching it at some point because I forget to make pointless and/or sarky comments for the last half of the episode. Hmm. Engrossment could be construed as a good sign.

I guess, seeing as I have nothing better to do, I'll watch number three...

Ugh

Well. I've been trying to give up smoking for...well, a while. Actually, that's a lie. I've been talking about giving up, and thinking about giving up, and complaining that I should give up...but as for the actual doing? That's sort of fallen by the way-side.

However, this time I am going to make a concerted effort to succeed in my attempt to kick the habit (mostly because my girlfriend says she'll leave me if I don't). I haven't really smoked over the last couple of days but who wants to think about the last time they had a cigarette when they're trying not to obsess about cigarettes, and instead I shall think about smoking with a sort of fond, detached rememberance. Yes, I shall. I really really shall.

Yes, indeed. I guess it makes it harder that I don't want to give up. It's a horrible thing to admit, but I enjoy it (and I'm sure someone out there will want to smite me mightily for saying that, but it's the truth). I like smoking, I always have. Plus, y'know, the addiction. But I will try.

I always thought I'd be safe from the whole dramatic mood swings thing. I guess I just assumed that people had exaggerated, and that I'd be alright because I know what to expect. But no, it turns out that I am suseptable, and it does not make for a happy me make when you take away the precious nicotine drug.

Also, I was going to go off on a ramble about how I can find women smoking in movies quite sexy, but I decided that I couldn't be bothered to search for a picture. Go search for one yourself, you lazy bum!

I'm not dead

...in case you were wondering. Maybe you weren't. Heck, I don't even know if anyone reads this, which raises an interesting question along the lines of 'If no-one hears a tree falling...'

...You get what I mean. Maybe you don't.

Seriously, if no-one reads your blog, does it - theoretically speaking - exist? Wow, that's just too much thinky for this girls brain. Quick! To the google machine, for a calming search of hot actresses!

(speaking of, I saw some really quite stunning pictures of Michelle Ryan in The Bionic Woman on dorothysurrenders.blogspot.com)

So...What's been happening at number 77? Well, in short: In August/September I moved back to live with my father for a while, to help him recover from surgery (thankfully pre-scheduled, not emergency) whilst also preparing to start a new job. In September started a new job and moved back to 77. New job excruciatingly dull. Keep zoning out and thinking about desk sex (What? I've never worked in an office before - desk sex has never really been an option for me, and day-dreaming about it hasn't lost the novelty value yet...oh, who am I kidding, it probably never will). Also I keep dropping clangers like:

Boss: Okay, you're going to go through the entire database and update every customers contact info, e-mails, fax numbers, everything.
Me: Great! I'll ring them up and ask them for their phone numbers!

Sometimes the brain does not check the words before I speak.

Still, at least one of my colleagues is happy. In her words: "I'm so happy you're here. Now everyone laughs at you instead of me!"

What else? Where was I? September? Oh, yes. New job. Then, October: GP decides we should "be on a break". Two days later she decides we shouldn't, and I start cursing the day The L Word ever allowed provincial lesbians to see how Lesbian Drama ought to be.

That's pretty much everything. Oh, except I had a really good idea for a Vlog (is that right?) for Afterellen, but I know myself too well: I'm all mouth and no trousers. Oh, plus I only have a bog standard webcam and no idea what software I'd need to be able to record and edit footage. Any help or suggestions (preferable pointing me to free software, I still have no money) would be greatly appreciated.

So hopefully, now, life will finally, finally settle down and I'll actually get to feel like I have a steady job and that I actually live here, my house of nearly six months. One can dream, I suppose.

work, life, work, life, work, life

Well, I wasn't actually going to write a blog post today. I've been so busy that stopping to write just seemed like too much of a demand (and I'm in that mood where a blank white page seems like the most demanding thing in the world, just waiting for your words like a great big hungry...waiting thing), but seeing as my browser bizarrely won't load up anything but blogger.com, I guess something up there is telling me I ought to write a post.

But what about? Not having planned to, I've been caught unawares and un-prepared. 'Quick!' says the brain, 'think of something interesting!', but said brain refuses to provide me with even a snippet of an idea as to what that interesting thing might be.

I guess I could talk about my week, although that would possibly involve a re-definition of the term interesting. Possibly so that it meant something more like boring. Okay, so hold onto your hats, lets start typing and see where we end up.

My week. As you may or may not know, I work - at the moment - for a temp agency. This involves them ringing me up and saying 'this company needs someone in their office for two weeks, can you do that?' or 'this company needs someone to mind a showroom for them, can you do that? Oh, and - inexplicably - you'll also be handling all the trade accounts for the company, but we won't tell you that, we'll just let you figure it out.' The life of a temp is interesting, frustrating and involves many different jobs in a very short space of time. I've been temping for a while, and already I've been a shop person, the afore-mentioned showroom handler, a cook, and a few other jobs. My current job, however, takes the biscuit.

Now, after I left my long-term job, I was supposed to go and work for someone else, but unfortunately that fell through. That's how I ended up as a temp - I needed money, having just moved, and temping was a way to get into work quickly. I specifically asked them for office work, but they don't always have office work available and hey, I need to eat, so occasionally I find myself doing jobs that I wouldn't necessarily have chosen given different options. This, at the moment, is one such job.

Can't really say too much about it, as...well, the management are appalling but there should be a standard procedure with the government body that I'm working for that should require me to sign a basic confidentiality agreement because I'm working with (not really with, more around) patients (although they haven't made me sign one, nor have they shown me...well, anything. I didn't have a personal staff alarm till the second week because no-one remembered to get me one). Basically I clean. I work in a hospital that deals with people who are not quite all there. I actually work on the geriatric ward, so there's a lot of dementia and senility, with a smattering of Parkinson's and such-like. To begin with, I wasn't sure I'd be able to do the job. The cleaning involves patients bathrooms, and I, like some people, also find people with mental illnesses uncomfortable because I just don't know what to do. Plus, my mother was a nurse, and having been around nursing environments for a long, long time I became convinced fairly early on that it wasn't what I wanted to do with my life.

Anyway. I've been there for a while now, and it's not all that bad. You soon learn which people to look out for (and which people you shouldn't let trap you in their rooms), which people you can talk to and which you can try and talk to, but it's pretty much going to be a one-sided conversation. Some of them, I love. I won't use names, but some of them are fantastic. D, for example. D is pretty out there - last week she asked me what I was: I said "I'm the cleaner, D, and what are you?" and she said "I'm a fish! Or blue. I'm not sure which one." She always gives me a great big grin whenever I see her, and although she can become sullen and un-cooperative, she always smiles for me. Although I know it's not my place, I try and stop and say a few words with her every day. E likes me too, although he's convinced I'm a boy (the long hair and boobs don't seem to sway his opinion). He's very loud, very aggressive, and one of the ones it's best to keep on the right side of. Mrs P, C and G all make me sad. Mrs P has no out-ward signs of dementia - and I know the unit houses some people who are depressed with no other illnesses - and she and C always want to talk. They just seem to like conversation, be it about what I'm doing, what I did the night before, what they used to do, the weather, the other patients, anything really. All they want is someone to talk to, because the nurses don't talk to them and the other patients they can't talk to. I try and stop for as long as I can, but I have a job to do and the nurses look at you funny if you look like you're too interested in the patients; that's their job, and you'd better not forget it. Only thing is, in the time I've been there, I've never seen them really sit down and talk to the patients. C and I always have a conversation like this in the morning:

"Okay C, that's your hoovering done, you all set?"

"Yes, thank you. Are you leaving? Do you like my flowers? Someone bought them for me yesterday." And then we'll stop and chat about her flowers, or the weather, or whatever she's just bought up.

"I'll see you later, okay? I'll be back soon, remember, I still have to clean your bathroom, so I'll be back with my cleaning products and my rubber gloves in about half an hour."

And she smiles at me. "That'll be nice, dear. It'll give me something to look forward too."

She means it. C is pretty dependent on the nurses for mobility, and they leave her in her chair all day, staring out the window.

There's an art room I've never seen used. Ditto the cookery room. The OCT room is never in use, either. The patients sit in their rooms, or sometimes they're taken to sit in the corridor. If they can walk, they can roam around, and if it's a nice day, maybe they can go outside (E loves it outside. At the first sign of sun, he's out, on a bench, stripping down to his underwear and soaking up some rays. He's got a great tan). Now Mrs D, she can walk with a frame, but everyone knows she's a little unsteady, both mentally and physically. My cleaning supervisor and I were sat in an un-used lunch room having a break when we heard, after a while, a quiet wailing from outside. We opened the door, walked around the side of the building and found Mrs D clinging onto a post by the building, walking frame a good ten metres away on the path, in tears and clearly distressed. We got her a chair and eventually persuaded a nurse to come and get her with a wheel-chair. My supervisor told me, after we'd sat back down, that she'd seen Mrs D walking around the (mostly dis-used) side of the building ten minutes before I'd arrived, walking frame backwards, and not a nurse in sight. Time was, she said, that there'd always be a nurse outside, making sure the less steady patients were always okay, but now the nurses take out-side time to mean tea-break, and can always be found in the same lounge at the bottom of the ward.

Now, call me crazy, but something seems to be wrong with this picture. Which leads me neatly (or, you know, allows me to jump too) the subject of G. Now G is old, really really old. She can't get out of bed, move or do anything without assistance. But that's all she gets. Minimal assistance. She gets out of bed and they put her in her chair, in her room, and they put the television on. At night, they switch the television off, take her out of her chair and put her in bed. In the time (and it's been a while) that I've been there, I've seen her having an in-depth discussion with precisely one person. Now the thing is, it's easy to dismiss G. They do it, I do it. She calls for help constantly (and I do mean constantly). She bangs her table, she yells, she calls a certain name over and over again (the name, if I'm not mistaken, of the woman that I saw her having the conversation with). And when you go into her room, you'll have a conversation with her that goes very much like this:

"Come in, come in, come over here where I can see you."
"What's wrong, G?"
"I'm going to call the police; I have to get out of here. I have to get up and do something."

Or something very much along those lines. And it's easy, if you follow the nurses' lead (which to begin with I did), to dismiss her as yet another poor old lady who unfortunately is going to be in this condition till she dies. But I'm starting to wonder whether she's as poor and unfortunate as they think.

Last week, I had a conversation that went like this. "Hey, G, mind if I come in? I have to clean your bathroom."
"Come in, come in, come here."
"What's up, G?"
"I want to get up, I want to get out. They never take me out."
"I'm sorry, G, I wish there was something I could do. I'll go ask a nurse, okay?"

So I went out, went up to nurse and said. "I'm sorry to bother you, but G says she'd quite like to go out. She's always in her room." It was a gorgeous hot summer day.

The nurse gave me a look, as if to say that I'd over-stepped my bounds: what their patients want is, and will be, dictated by them. "Well, it's nearly lunch, we'll get her some lunch in her room and then we'll take her out. Tell her lunch in ten minutes." I had a bad feeling in my stomach, like nervous/uncomfortable, but I nodded because who the hell am I? I'm just the cleaner.

"They said lunch is in ten minutes, G, and then they'll take you out."

She paused, and then said. "It's a pack of lies."

"I'm telling you what they told me, G, honest."

"I know that you're not lying, you're a good girl. They're lying to you. They're not going to do it. They never do."

And sure enough, twenty minutes later when I passed her room there was no lunch and no wheel-chair in sight.

Today, when I went into her room, she stopped me again. She'd been increasingly agitated in the morning, showing behaviours I'd never seen her display before, and this is the conversation I had.

"Morning, G."
"Hello, hello, come here where I can see you, who are you?"
"I'm the cleaner, remember? I'm H."
"Come here, come here." So I knelt down beside her chair. "I want to get out of here. I...you know what? I'm so bored. So very, very bored."
"I...I'm sorry, G."
"Bored bored bored bored. They never let me do anything. They pick me up and they put me down and then they forget about me. They don't talk to me. I'm so bored I could cry." There were tears in her blue eyes. "No-one knows what it's like. I think I shall go mad."
"I...I wish there was something I could do."
She paused, and very gently took my hand. "I know you do. You're a good girl. Please, let me get up and do something. Let me get out of here. What do you do?"
"I'm the cleaner here; I clean all the rooms. It's my job."
"I want to help. I want to get up and do something; I want to be useful. Please, what can I do?"
"I, I don't know." I was feeling a little upset at this point, guilty and scared and mad and and, "I don't know. What would you like to do?"
"I want to be useful. I want to get up. I want to do something."
I don't know why I said it, but, "Can you sew? Knit? I can't, I'm useless. Can't sew at all."
"I can sew. I like sewing." It seemed to calm her down, thinking about something like that.
"What did you do, G, for work? Where did you live?" All of a sudden, I wanted to know. I wanted to know who this shadow had been. I saw a person, all of a sudden. Someone just like me. Someone who was me, in 50 years.
"I worked, I did. I lived here, in this city," she named it and I smiled.
"I live here too."
Then the smile went when she said. "Please. Won't you ask them if I can get up?"
"I'll try." And I did. I went and asked, knowing it was fruitless and pointless.
And then I did something cowardly. I went back in and said. "I'm sorry, G. I'm sorry, and I have to go. I have more rooms to clean."
"Please don't go. What is that? What is that?" She pointed to the hoover, and I brought it closer so she could see.
"It's my vacuum, industrial sized. I do all the rooms with it."
"Please, I want to use it. I want to do something." She reached out before I could stop her and touched it. "Please."
"I'm sorry, G, really I am, I have to go."
"Stay. I'll pay you. I'm your boss now and you can do whatever you like, so stay." I gently took the hoover away and started edging back.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I have other rooms to clean. I have to get back to work."
"No, please don't go. I'm so bored, so bored and lonely." And she began punctuating her words with slaps to her own forehead. "I worked, I worked my whole life for this. What can I do? Please. I want to be with you. Take me with you."
"I don't know, I don't know what you can do, G. I'm sorry."
"I could scream."

And later that day, as I was rushing between jobs, I heard her screaming. I passed her door and saw her calling for help, hitting herself on the forehead. Both these actions - the scream and the slaps - were new for her, or at least new for me to see from her. And the nurses didn't go to her. The only one who did was a new student doing an work experience segment, who I'm sure, by the end of the week, won't go in to her anymore.

Call me mrs koo-koo crazy pants, but what was wrong with the picture now becomes clearer. Seems to me that if you work - and this isn't an indictment of all those in the mental health caring profession, merely of the nurses in that particular place - with these people too long, you seem to forget they are people. And it's easily done. I can feel it creeping up on me every time I block out G when I walk past, or M who yells everything three times, or Mrs D who mumbles, or the Michael Jackson music which is one of the only things that seems to calm down D. There just seems, in my eyes, to be something wrong not only with the attitude of the nurses, but with the whole system. It's not just that there's no inclination to spend time with the patients: I'd place money on the fact that half the younger nurses were not trained or encouraged to in the first place. I know that it's a very human reaction to be, essentially, lazy. To not put ourselves out there when we could, or to shy away from the hard in favour of the easy whilst telling ourselves that that's not what we're doing at all. But I can't even believe that if I worked there, I would get so inured to the surroundings that I would ignore another human being who just wanted what we all so desperately need: companionship, kindness, and someone to complain about the weather with.

My top ten women in sci-fi.

[warning: this is a very long, picture heavy post.]

Here it is, the post I mentioned I was thinking about possibly maybe getting around to:

Ah, sci-fi and fantasy shows. How many hours have I wasted glued to a television set, entranced by your charms? The space-ships! The aliens! The swords! The vampires! The comedy! The drama! Dear oh dear. I'm sure, when I'm about 80, I'll look back at my life and regret every second I spent in front of the television when I could have been outside, fortifying my health for my old age with brisk walks, but until that bitterness descends let me take a minute to introduce you to my top ten women in sci-fi and fantasy.

There will be omissions: from shows that I never caught or didn't like to characters that I just didn't take to while others did.

But why bother? Well, women in sci-fi have always been important to me. Mostly because they wear a lot of leather and some of them wear uniforms, but there is also a slightly less important reason too: Women in sci-fi were strong, powerful, progressive and interesting, and it seemed to me that there were a lot more of those kinds of women in sci-fi shows than anywhere else. Women who fought for what they believed in; women who had morals and were honourable and did the right thing no matter what; women who were complicated, difficult and real. Women who I wanted to be, and as I grew older, women who I wanted to be with (seriously, it's all that leather). Oh yes, sci-fi definitely helped me recognise my inner toaster-over deserving woman. Without any further ado, lets get into the top ten:

10. Aeryn (Farscape)

One word: leather. Lots and lots of leather. Oh, and a gun.

9. Zoe (firefly)

Zoe's the no-nonsense second in command of Serenity. She's tough, beautiful and looks good with a shotgun. What more could you want? Wash is a lucky, lucky guy.

8. Major Carter (SG-1)

Oh, Major Carter. How I used to adore thee way back when I was an avid Sg-1 fan. Did I mention that aside from leather, I also love uniforms? In-fact, probably more so. Not only did she wear a uniform, however, she also had a gun. Hot! So far, I realise, there have been no deep and meaningful reasons for choosing these women. You were expecting any?

7. Captain Janeway (Star Trek: Voyager)

I remember sitting down to watch Voyager for the very first time so many years ago, and having such high hopes of the series. Well, however I was disappointed by the show itself, Janeway kept me tuning in week after week. A strong, confident , commanding woman in charge of a space-ship? Who doesn't love that?

6. Ellen Ripley (Alien/Aliens/Alien 3/Alien Resurrection)

The only entry from film, but then again Sigourney Weaver is so commanding she's all the entry you need. Nothing can describe my admiration for her single-handed demolition of the xenomorphs, the impact made all the more powerful for the fact I hate horror movies and they scare the shit out of me. Plus, Alien: Resurrection was not the best film ever, I admit, but how buff was Sigourney? Yes, I will admit to the typical lesbian fascination with a great pair of arms (what is that about?).

5. Fred/Illyria (Angel)

I admit it: I love geeks. And who was more geeky than Fred? Winifred Burkle, the girl from the portal who came in, stole everyone's heart and made toasters which also decapitated people. Her arc, from shy, screwed-up girl to commanding member of the team (yet still cute, with the run on sentences and Dixie Chicks posters) was made all the more poignant when she snuffed it in order to be taken over by by an ancient demon/goddess called Illyria. The reason I included Illyria on the list as well as Fred was because I loved her too. Yes, I hated the fact that Fred was gone, but I always had the feeling the Amy Acker really enjoyed flipping the script and trying something a little new, I liked the character, and...well...I thought Illyria was kinda hot. I'm shallow, I know.

4. Laura Roslin (Battlestar Galactica)

Okay, so I'm a little behind. I never watched Battlestar Galactica when it was television here, and missed it the second and third times around too. It was only when I managed to get broadband that I really started watching the series. Now, I'm about three or four episodes into the second season, and I have to say: Wow. I could have made this entry for all the women of BSG, but to be honest there's been one that's stood out from the start: President Roslin. Thrust unexpectedly into a position of power, she's been calm, graceful and hard-working, she can stand toe-to-toe against the miltary men, and all this while - sadly - dying. She's the sort of woman I would love to grow up to be (I'm not considering myself grown up until I have a mortgage and children, thankyouverymuch). Plus, she's one good-looking woman.

3. The Slayers (Buffy/Angel)

To begin with, the forth entry was going to be inclusive of all the girls from Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. I loved Tara, for being so darn cute; Anya, for making me laugh so much; Willow, for being such a cute little geek and then such a kick ass witch, but I decided that I was just going to stick to my absolutely favourites for all the entries. So, number 4: the Slayers. So many good episodes, so many favourite moments. "Bad Girls", "Graduation", "This Years Girl"...I could name so many, but I'm not going to because those three titles are the only three I can ever remember. I remember, way back when, being quite transfixed by the slashy undertone (and from the amount of fan-fic, I wasn't the only one). And then Faith appeared on Angel, and her redemption arc has been fantastic to watch. I remember one of the guest appearances of Buffy on Angel (the episode where he becomes human for 24 hours after accidentally coming into contact with some demon blood) making me cry so much that I went all red and puffy. But, of course, they would be nothing without Joss Whedon and team. What a fantastic man. I could write more but I'm in danger of gushing about him, I can feel it coming on, so on we go without further ado.

And now, we rather controversially have a tie for first place:

Joint first: Susan Ivanova (Babylon Five)

Oh, Commander Ivanova, how I love the: let me count the ways. You were my first sci-fi love; you were funny, abrasive and stubborn; you looked fantastic in your uniform; you drank a lot of vodka. And oh, your lines were always the best:

Sinclair and Ivanova: Sinclair: 'Morning Lt. Commander. Problem sleeping?' Ivanova: 'Sleeping is not the problem. Waking up-that's the problem. I've always had a hard time getting up when it's dark outside.' Sinclair: 'But, in space, it's always dark.' Ivanova: '*sigh* I know, I know'.

it wasn't just what you said, it was the delivery too. Ivanova was a ball-breaking career officer whose past hid a dark secret, oh, and she fell in love with a woman. That didn't hurt my mid-nineties obsessive love for her. Personally, I felt the series really suffered after she left and I pretty much stopped watching.

Joint First: Xena (Xena: Warrior Princess)

Stereotypical I know, but how could she not come out on top? (Hehe). Xena: Warrior Princess. Singer, dancer, can handle a sword a little. Lucy Lawless was always so much fun to watch in the role: whether cracking me up with laughter or tears, she was always spot on. The campy tone of the show suited my sense of humour, and the serious heroic moments made me bite my nails (although not really, because I don't bite my nails, but you get what I mean). I've always been easily drawn in by shows, and Xena was no exception. I laughed, I cried, I got called a big gaymo (but in a nice way) when I insisted that my best friends dad tuned in at his house so that I didn't have to miss an episode, and in the process of making him always watch it I made him a fan too. He even liked 'Bitter Suite'. In terms of strong, powerful, do-gooder role models, I couldn't have done much better - between Xena and Susan Ivanova - at that point in my life.

Women of sci-fi and fantasy: yay for you! And, of course, the people who created you. I know you're not really real. Shame.

(Honourable mentions go to: The other women of Buffy and Angel, B'Elanna Torres, Jadzia Dax and Major Kira, Janet Fraiser and all the others that I forgot)