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stick this in your pipe and smoke it
I had a dream this morning that I joined a weight loss group here in Longford. It had line dancing and Simon Cowell.
Simon judged the group. There was some guy who who wasn’t fat, and Simon told him he didn’t need to lose weight but he thought he should put on a little more muscle, after poking the guy in the belly. :) And he was horrified by the line dancing. Both by the idea and the execution, which was dreadful. (It was line dancing of the sort you’d get if a weight loss group leader suddenly said, “Hey, I know! Let’s do some line dancing! Everybody in the first row go together!” Except by the time we got to the third row people were in themed costumes. o.o They still couldn’t dance, though.)
What a bizarre dream.
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just stuff
Happy BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRTHDAY dear DEIIIIIIIIIIRDRE! Happy birthday to YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!
I am attempting to introduce this thing called a “weekend” into my life. My understanding is that “weekends” are like mini-vacations (which are not, it seems, tiny versions of where the Pope lives, after all) and come around every days. We went grocery shopping this morning. Ted said this was normal “weekend” behavior. I find participating in typical human rituals fascinating…
We went into Dublin briefly yesterday. While having lunch, we saw James Cromwell. At least, I did. Ted is quite certain the guy wasn’t Cromwell. (Ok, ok, it wasn’t, if IMDB is right about his height, because the man we saw was *not* six foot five, although he was tall.) Sure looked like him, though.
Does anybody else get Natalie Portman and Kiera Knightly mixed up when they see giant posters of their faces advertising their next movies? If I had a plot I might write a screenplay revolving around this…
Last night I had a very weird dream that I was swimming, and my right-arm stroke was fine, but my left-arm stroke would only go halfway, and then my arm would crumple up in a most distressing and powerless fashion. Did it both in freestyle and backstroke. Eventually I woke up and discovered I was lying on my right side with my left arm flung out behind me in an extremely awkward and damned uncomfortable fashion. The joint still hurts! I must’ve been sleeping like that a long time!
miles to Isengard: 237.4
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my brain…
…it has been entirely eaten by Doctor Who. I don’t read or write fic, and don’t even *want* to (except those other two Methos novels I’d like to write someday), but damn, I am *totally happy* doing nothing but sitting around thinking about Doctor Who, and admiring the icons people’ve made. I would be perfectly happy sitting around making a zillion icons myself. One that somebody made has made me want to try making a *fanvid*, for God’s sake. I have neither time nor talent for it, but damned if I don’t want to. Srsly. Stick a fork in me, I’m done.
Except, of course, I’m *not* done, and I can’t spend a million happy mindless hours playing with images and text and making new icons, and I don’t have any MU*s left upon which I can RP, which sounds *exactly* like the right speed just now. Of course, it’s just as well I don’t, because I’m still working on this damned book. I got the first eleven chapters and about half of chapter 12 (where the book broke) revised yesterday. I’ve got to add a new scene still, and then fix 13-16, where a WHOLE LOT MORE stuff happens before I get to where chapter 17 currently starts. It will be better when I’m done, but at the moment, well. I’d rather watch Doctor Who.
I failed to take a picture for Project365 yesterday. I don’t know what that means. Do I quit? (I’m not having much fun with it right now, in part because I don’t have very many brain cells to dedicate to it, so I’m ending up with a lot of last-minute cat pictures. Whee.) Do I just say “oops, missed a day?” Do I add a day on to the end? I donno what to do.
This morning’s bizarre dream featured the cast of Questionable Content, who were all in Paragon City, which happened to be located in Hawaii. Faye woke up pregnant (she and, er, apparently Marten, were trying to get her that way), and in the dream the comic strip went like this: black frame, black frame, black frame, black frame with a white text box with a “!” inside it, black frame with Faye sitting up with really big eyes, black frame with her saying, “Oh my God!”. Next page: Faye, Dora and Raven were baby-shower shopping (in color). Next page: they had all become black and white and were standing in front of a mirror. They were all wearing different styles of 1920s dresses in 1960s print fabric, and all had Lulu short sharp bobbed haircuts. Next page, Hannelore is in black and white and terrified by it, and then her hair (which had gotten a lot longer) started glowing neon green, making her the sort of first in Pleasantville to become colorized, and people flocked to her. I was not part of this, you understand. I was reading it. And then I ended up having dinner with
/Tara and several others, some of whom may have been fictional and others of whom may have been, like, Ellen Kushner, and there were superheroics and disappointment that my books weren’t shelved in the restaurant’s tiny “fairyland” bookstore, and… I think I need to start exercising and going to bed earlier. o.O Although I’ve been just sleeping for *crap* the last couple nights anyway, so I don’t think that without the exercise going to bed earlier would do any good.
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it’s monday?
Apparently it’s Monday, and I’m not entirely clear on how that happened. I feel like I’m several days, at least, behind. I woke up at 7:something this morning, thought, “I should get up now,” decided to lie in for a few more minutes, had a rather scattered yet vivid dream involving not so much Dean and Sam as the Impala (which the Good Ol’ Boy in the dream said was a Dodge Impala, wtf, but I was playing the part of a … girl/friend who was trying to replace the Impala (which didn’t actually need replacing, but I was *really* trying to find out some other thing to help solve the mystery that was going on, and so *dumb blonde giggle* well sure Dodge I mean it’s a car what do I know about them except he looooooooooved his car soooooooooo much) and the next time I really looked at the clock it was 9:00. I staggered out of bed a little confused.
Then I nerved myself up for Certain Doom and called Continental Airlines, upon whom I am supposed to be flying to Comic-Con. I’d gotten a notification last week after Dad reserved the ticket saying ‘The ticket hasn’t been issued due to technical problems, you need do nothing’, so I didn’t, and then after a couple of days of nothing I got nervous, and there was a bunch of jumping through hoops, and I emailed to say “um?” and they emailed back eventually and said “call this number”, so this morning I did, basically figuring the fare was going to have quadrupled (or even just doubled, that would’ve been more than problem enough) and that I wasn’t going to get to go.
Instead I talked to a very nice guy who accidentally hung up on me, then to a very nice woman who explained they’d been having technical problems for the last week and she wouldn’t even try transferring me (which was how the first guy hung up on me), she’d just see if she could do all the website stuff herself. And she could, and did, and got me the plane ticket at the original price, and I am now waiting VERY NERVOUSLY for it to arrive in my email box as promised. Within an hour, she said. It’s been about half an hour now. If I don’t have it by noon or one my time I’ll call back and see if I can talk to her again specifically, since she knows what’s up with me.
This is not much like writing a book. Furthermore, my brain is absolutely certain it’s Sunday (possibly Sunday the 29th of June, mind you, but Sunday) and that I really ought to get to have today off. Neither of these things are true.
*stares nervously at email*
ETA: ticket has arrived! I am going to ComicCon! EEEEEEEE!