The World's Most Rectally Troublesome Buildings.

[rionaleonhart]

Glancing through my notebook, and apparently I recently dreamt that Charlie Brooker knocked me out and stole my trousers. I don't remember this at all.

Also dreamt that he made me hand over four thousand pounds' worth of my property, then amused himself by forcing me to kneel in front of a shelf in a toy shop, staring at a tin of Lego that said abusive things about me on the packaging. Charlie Brooker, you are such a dick in my dreams.

(Here, incidentally, is a clip of Brooker getting VERY, VERY ANGRY about the Over the Rainbow trail ruining the ending of last week's Doctor Who episode ('The Time of Angels'). I enjoy it when he shouts.)


Random Facts About Riona's Family, as I've just remembered this: my mother was somehow taught the wrong History curriculum when she was at school. They'd spent the entire year learning about the First World War, and the exam was on the Second. The entire class failed, of course. One of her friends wrote nothing on her paper but 'Garibaldi was a biscuit and I want to go home'.

Whilst I'm at it: my mother and a friend of hers once stole some plums from a neighbour's garden, found they were nasty and, outraged, squashed them and posted them through the letterbox. My brothers and I evidently inherited her plum-related audacity, as we used to steal plums from the tree next door using a fishing net poked through the upstairs window. Oh, dear.


Work update: 18,000 words written. 4,000 to write. Two weeks to go. The plan is to get first drafts of everything finished this week and then spend the final week rearranging things and finding secondary sources. I have been absolutely losing my mind lately (cooped up indoors, bingeing on chocolate, bursting into hysterical hyperventilating tears in front of my long-suffering housemate), but it should be possible. I have reached a stage at which it sounds possible. I'm just so exhausted and fretting at the moment.

The Charlie Brooker fandom is what's been keeping me from completely breaking down, and I am so, so grateful. I love the fic and the people and the ridiculous ideas and the enthusiasm and the recordings. I love Brooker himself, and Mitchell, and the way they interact (the second Brooker episode of The Unbelievable Truth should be on Radio Four at 6.30 this afternoon, incidentally). I love it when entries about this fandom show up on my flist. It makes me happy, and that's what I need when university is pressing down on me. Thanks for supporting me in my time of academic terror, guys. ♥

Comments

[rionaleonhart]

But he's such a git in my dreams!

Although I did also dream recently that he was my university tutor. I somehow ended up on the floor of the seminar room, hugging his legs. THIS IS NOT APPROPRIATE SEMINAR CONDUCT, RIONA.

Also, I dreamt that David Mitchell tried to hit on me by waggling his eyebrows and using the irresistible chat-up line 'I've got stairs'. HE LIVES IN A FLAT. IT'S PROBABLY NOT EVEN TRUE.

And in another dream Brooker definitely insinuated that he wanted a blowjob from Mitchell, to which Mitchell responded, 'I am absolutely convinced that no-one wants to see that.' Oh, Mitchell, how little you know.

Yes, all right, I have some pretty awesome dreams.

And thank you for the cheering!

[inappropriately.livejournal.com]

But being a git is precisely what one would want from Brooker!

(Your dreams are sort of absorbing the anonymeme. Wow.)

I've got stairs.

I vaguely remember from lazy stalking when I watched Who Do You Think You Are? that he has stairs outside his front door. Er. I'm not sure that actually counts as having stairs, never mind being a good excuse to use that as a chat-up line. Would you screw him on possibly non-existent stairs, Riona? Is that appealing to you?

[rionaleonhart]

But being a git is precisely what one would want from Brooker!

...that's actually an excellent point.

I've never found stairs especially erotic, but evidently Mitchell seemed to think I might.

[smiley-nat.livejournal.com]

He has stairs inside, too, I assume, because his housemate mentions their understair cupboard on his blog. No, I am not a creepy stalker, okay?

[rionaleonhart]

Thank you for clearing that up! My subconscious knows more about David Mitchell than I do, it seems. That's... mildly unsettling.

[smiley-nat.livejournal.com]

What unsettles me is that I somehow discovered Robert Hudson's blog ages ago and never knew that he was David's flatmate until someone mentioned it on the anon meme. I was like... No! I am not so stupid that the David Robert Hudson writes about is David Mitchell. So then I went to find David's Who Do You Think You Are? and sure enough...

[bubbles-san.livejournal.com]

Also, I dreamt that David Mitchell tried to hit on me by waggling his eyebrows and using the irresistible chat-up line 'I've got stairs'. HE LIVES IN A FLAT. IT'S PROBABLY NOT EVEN TRUE.

For reasons I am not entirely clear on, I misread that as David TENNANT, and it confused me and took me several minutes to realize my error.

[rionaleonhart]

I did once dream that David Tennant groped me. It seemed rather wasted on me, as I'm not attracted to him at all.

[bubbles-san.livejournal.com]

See, that's why I was confused, because I was all "but she's not attracted to him, why would she be dreaming about him?"

Why staying up till 5:3o in the morning when you've got a 9:3o class is a bad idea: a play in four acts. -__-;;