I mentioned a few days ago that The Talons of Weng-Chiang marked the end of an era, with the departure of Philip Hinchcliffe as producer. Horror of Fang Rock was transitional, still written like the gothic horror that was so predominant during the Holmes/Hinchcliffe seasons, but today's story marks a clear shift into the next phase of Doctor Who both in terms of style and also with the introduction of a new companion who is second only to Sarah Jane Smith herself in terms of being beloved by fans. It also demonstrates once again that just showing up to work is half the battle when it comes to success.

Let's talk about that.

Ah, you have to love the Gothic Horror era of Doctor Who. I finished the back half of Horror of Fang Rock today, and it was just as dark and moody as you could ask for. Ultimately the fate of the entire Earth laid in the balance (a bit of a sudden escalation, that), but for most of the running time it plays as a classic horror story with a cast of characters ready set to be picked off one by one.

Let's talk about that.

The most interesting thing about today's new story is only tangentially and coincidentally related to the story itself. Horror of Fang Rock first aired in the fall of 1977, but it was ten years later that the infamous Max Headroom incident took place. Late one night in 1987 the Chicago station WTTW was broadcasting the first episode of Fang Rock when their signal was hijacked by an unknown person dressed like (the recently cancelled) Max Headroom, who proceeded to rant about several different topics and behave just generally weirdly. The signal ended with him dropping trou while an accomplice spanked his bare buttocks with a flyswatter. The entire thing lasted for about a minute and a half before the normal signal resumed. The culprit was never found or prosecuted. Max would be proud. You should watch this clip, it is gloriously weird.

Anyway, let's talk about the actual story.

Today marks the eight month anniversary of the day I started this ridiculous project. In that time I have walked 774.88 miles on the treadmill while taking 1,554,800, watching 454 episodes and 90 stories of Doctor Who, and losing 49.28 pounds in weight. That's only 1 1/2 lbs in the last month, which on the one hand is pretty frustrating but on the other hand just shows me that I am nearing the end of my practical weight loss. That doesn't mean I am done making progress in feeling healthier, or that my body is done changing form, but all the "easy" weight loss is far behind me at this point. Whatever my weight, my waist size keeps shrinking. I can now comfortably fit into pants with a 40" waist, which seemed like an unachievable goal only a few months ago. For gosh sake, I had a 38" waist in high school. The last two weeks I have been floating around the 50 lb mark for total weight lost, some days slightly more and some days slightly less. I expect that as I get deeper into rehearsal for the show I am doing this winter, I will drop down a bit more. Life is good.

Oh, and I also finished The Talons of Weng-Chiang today, so let's talk about that.

I had my annual eye exam today, which amon other things involved putting dilation drops in my eyes. I then spent the next six hours barely able to look at anything light, like computer screens. So I did my time on the Time Treadmill, but it was in a dark room with the curtains closed. Fortunately, The Talons of Weng-Chiang is primarily set in dimly lit locations so it didn't hurt my eyes to watch it. The show definitely did everything I could to keep my eyes on it, what with having Leela running around the sewers in her Victorian undergarments.

So let's talk about that.

I am so conflicted about the new story I started today. On the one hand, it is a historical story (set in Victorian London) and I love historicals. On top of that, it is one of the most beloved stories of the Fourth Doctor era. On the other hand, it features a primary Chinese villain who is played by a Caucasian English actor wearing yellowface and speaking in a full-on Fu Manchu accent. He's good, but that's not really the point. Of course I know it was standard accepted casting for the era (not that current casting choices are always ideal by any stretch of the imagination), but still... This is definitely a case of something I love also being problematic.

I learned something weird and random yesterday: Not only have I lost fifty pounds in weight and six inches from my waistline, but it turns out I have also lost a half inch in collar size. I'm a jeans & t-shirt kind of guy and don't often wear dress shirts, so I probably never would have noticed if not for my new acting gig. You see, several months ago I auditioned for a show, and as a part of that the costume designer tool all my measurements. That was back in early May, about twenty five pounds ago. I wound up getting the job (my first professional musical theatre job, yay!), and last night was the first rehearsal. I suggested to the costume designer that he probably wanted to take fresh measurements since I had lost a significant amount of weight. Most of the changes I had expected, but the drop in collar size really caught me off guard. I had no idea that my neck was getting smaller, but there you go. I have dropped three pants sizes, gone down a shirt size in the chest, and gone down a collar size to boot. How cool is that? And I have Doctor Who to thank for all of that.

Speaking of which, let's talk about MurderBots.

it's been a day of ups and (huge) downs, with still more to come, but I want to get this post out of the way now so I don't end up writing it at midnight. This morning my adult autistic son had a blood draw, which can be a battle. He's almost as strong as me, and if he wants to fight something then he isn't easy to physically control. That being said, he surprised us all by not even flinching when the needle went in. He never even complained. How awesome is that? Unfortunately, that happy start was dampened a few hours later when we had to put down our dog Chuy. He had been barely eating, and kept having seizures. Upon taking him to the vet it turned out that he had cancerous masses in his stomach and there was literally nothing that could be done to heal him. Rather than let him suffer any further, we chose to let him rest. It was a very difficult decision, and we are heartbroken. And now, swinging back completely in the other direction, I am about to go to my first rehearsal for my first professional musical theatre production, for which I am very excited. So like I say, it's all ups and downs today.

But mixed in with all that, I started a new Doctor Who story on the treadmill today. So let's talk about that.

During my lifetime there have been precisely two episodes of Doctor Who that have aired on my birthday. There was also one other that aired on my birth date, but two years before I was born (Episode 10 of The Daleks' Master Plan), but that doesn't count since I wasn't alive. My first birthday episode came on January 15th, 1972 when I turned four -- Episode 3 of Day of the Daleks (again with the Daleks, and also: meh). Today's viewing gave me my only other birthday episode on January 15th, 1977 when I turned nine - Part 3 of The Face of Evil. It is hands down the best of the lot (and not just because it doesn't involve any damn Daleks).

Let's talk about that.

Yesterday I put off using the treadmill pretty much all day, until after 9pm. I felt fat and bloated, and weighed in a full six pounds heavier than the morning before. Today I bounced out of bed and hit the treadmill early in the day, and weighed in back in range with recent history. The moral of the story is, don't put off my workout. It doesn't work out. Better yet, today my wife bought me some new shorts with a 40" waist. When I started this project I was wearing a 46. I can't remember the last time I wore 40's. I do remember that in high school (back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth) I wore a 38. The new shorts? They fit perfectly. How cool is that?

I also started a new Doctor Who story today, and it's a good one. Let's talk about that.