Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2010-05-03 01:00 pm
rionaleonhart) wrote2010-05-03 01:00 pm
The World's Most Rectally Troublesome Buildings.
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. ♥
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. ♥
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And good luck with your work!
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Thank you for the good wishes!
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I used to clip his columns out of the copy of the paper my school bought every morning. Because I'm ~hardcore~ like that.
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Same thing happened when she got into Derren Brown. I was flipping through the airline entertainment magazine on a flight to New Zealand, and Derren Brown was staring at me
from the next seatoff the page!Although that still doesn't explain the Auckland airport being taken over by giant electronic Richard Hammonds. I think Riona had lost most of her fannishness about Top Gear by then.