Greetings, humans!
My name is Jetta, and I've been asked to provide my take on the television and related things of your world. I'm a mother of two, with more likely on the way, and when young I lived in a castle with my father and mother... well, it wasn't as primitive a castle as all that, and we at least got cable reception! But for the last while, I and my mate Thabian have been living in seclusion, trying to rebuild the werewolf race.
... Yes, I'm a werewolf. Get over it.
In any event, it seems someone thought that my friend Britanny Diggers was getting all the spotlight all to herself, her and her sisters, and that I needed a little something special. So, our secluded garden hideaway now comes equipped with an RCA television, antennae, a computer and cable DSL. (I've been promised an upgrade to a minidish receiver in a few weeks, and honestly, after what I've been seeing on the regular networks, that upgrade can't come soon enough.) You have
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
rann to thank for my presence, either way.
Now, I suppose, for this first living journal entry, I...
... Eh...?
... My son Pojo has just informed me it's called a "livejournal", not a "living journal". I really don't see the difference. But despite the fact that he's not terribly verbal on anything else, Pojo WAS able to put this computer together in ten minutes, so I suppose I'll have to trust him. He's so cute, anyway, why wouldn't I? ^n.n^
Ahem.
It seems like every time I turn on the television, I find the "Charlie's Angels" waggling their asses at me, and I have to resist the urge to dive and cover Pojo's eyes. Not because I'm that protective of him (I often wear rather little myself), but because, frankly, their butts are ugly. I have seen any number of buttocks in my days, and those are not terribly nice ones. And yet, from what I am to understand, that is the primary qualification for being an elite secret agent. That and the ability to deliver awkward witticisms.
First of all, I am a bit disgruntled. I was once a highly-trained warrior myself. And yet these women are classified as CHARLIE'S Angels... this "Charlie" person apparently does little more than lounge about and communicate via a speakerbox. And yet these (supposedly) highly-trained and competent female fighters are designated as belonging to him and being under his sway. I find myself empathizing more with this "rogue Angel" character than any of the unintelligent-seeming, obviously artificially-augmented people. If I were expected to jump to the call of an Alpha who never showed me his face and expected me to do all his fighting for him while he remained as far as possible from the danger, I do believe I'd be rather peeved, myself. To the point of demoting the Alpha to a Zeta.
Now, I'm all for adult entertainment. Thabian is quite content with the... adult entertainment... I provide for him. And since the people that made this movie obviously wished to do so, I am unsure why they did not simply make a movie of these "Angels" gyrating while wearing hardly anything and market it as a "special interest" video, since that seems to be their sole draw.
I'm sure I'll have more to say on this, since, as I said, I'm unable to watch television for more than half an hour or so without being bombarded with the three of them's surgery-marked buttocks waggling at me. But for now, I shall close out this entry, and hope for the day when I shall have a wider selection, and hope for "Charlie's Angels 2: Full Throttle" to have a deservedly short run in the theaters, so that I will only have to sit through the much shorter previews when it is released on DPE.
... Alright, Pojo... DVD.
annoyed
confused