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note to neil gaiman: please to be writing my life
OH PLAGUES AND PLAGUES I MISSED REMUS' BIRTHDAY.
I AM A ROTTEN FANGIRL.
(Actually, there are ninety minutes left, but that hardly amounts to anything. I missed Aragorn's birthday, too, but the fic I was contemplating turned out to have even less plot than my fics usually do, so I gave up on it. Seriously, it was about Aragorn and Halbarad in the woods eating stuff. Or learning to cook. Or something.) So, um, happy birthday, Remus. Depressing fic ought to be forthcoming. I've been mucking about with that Rhapsody on a Windy Night fic for quite some time.
So, I'm going to have tofinish one of my fifteen and a half Remus!fics have a go at some kind of belated celebration. I feel guilty. Then again, I forgot Ian's birthday in November, which is really pathetic, seeing as I made it up and all. (It's the ninth, because...I wanted a Lost number. Shut up.)
We visited Leandra again today (hopefully our last trip to Pittsburgh; if all goes well she'll be at our home hospital by midweek or earlier), and took a long detour at Borders, where I bought nothing because what I did want was four times the amount I would pay if I bought it used on Amazon Marketplace or at Rosie's Bookshop in town or I hadn't read yet and was rather keen on, but I rarely buy books that I haven't read yet without a great deal of trust in the author. I got to touch Ysabel and The Ultimate Sandman and The Essential Rilke (!) and wasn't able to spend thirty seconds in the young adult section without wanting to run away, and I think I want to read Neverwhere rather badly now. I also nicked one of the (free) ancticipatory Deathly Hallows bookmarks. I totally love that even the advertising is getting into the whole 'Snape: Good or Evil?' thing: fandom is taking over the world.
Also, Best Time Ever = driving through Pittsburgh in the rain, blaring Steeleye Span, and debating with the siblings as to what the TARDIS noise sounds like. :D We have this family ritual dating back to my toddlerhood which involves us pointing out imaginary sea-life when driving through a tunnel--"oh, look, there's an octopus!" and suchlike (I've taken to saying things like "the Giant Squid!" and "a bunch of krakken!" lately), so we're driving through the tunnel and I go "hey, look, a police box!", and lo, the fandom joke was gotten, and Heidi said, "there's the Doctor! and Rose!" and I smiled smugly with the knowledge of converts made. (And then my brother says, "Rosebud?" and I says, "NO.", and he says, "Her last name should be Bud", and I says, "Nobody is that cruel, even Rose's crazy mother," and that was that. Citizen Kane jokes are the new black in my house, despite my brother having only seen the very beginning and remembering it very well for some reason. I think it's because his Robosapien says "Rosebud!" when you turn it off, which was the best and nerdiest thing ever, especially because we all, except for Heidi, got it. So then I said, "look! it's Orson Welles on a sled!" and my brother gave me the blankest look possible.)
The drive home consisted very much of thick, rolling fog, the sort of fog one rarely finds outside of films (and England), and I kept thinking that we were going to drive out into some barren moor in an alternate Victorian universe or be spirited away by the Unseelie Court, but alas, nothing out of the ordinary happened, which was extremely disappointing.
I AM A ROTTEN FANGIRL.
(Actually, there are ninety minutes left, but that hardly amounts to anything. I missed Aragorn's birthday, too, but the fic I was contemplating turned out to have even less plot than my fics usually do, so I gave up on it. Seriously, it was about Aragorn and Halbarad in the woods eating stuff. Or learning to cook. Or something.) So, um, happy birthday, Remus. Depressing fic ought to be forthcoming. I've been mucking about with that Rhapsody on a Windy Night fic for quite some time.
So, I'm going to have to
We visited Leandra again today (hopefully our last trip to Pittsburgh; if all goes well she'll be at our home hospital by midweek or earlier), and took a long detour at Borders, where I bought nothing because what I did want was four times the amount I would pay if I bought it used on Amazon Marketplace or at Rosie's Bookshop in town or I hadn't read yet and was rather keen on, but I rarely buy books that I haven't read yet without a great deal of trust in the author. I got to touch Ysabel and The Ultimate Sandman and The Essential Rilke (!) and wasn't able to spend thirty seconds in the young adult section without wanting to run away, and I think I want to read Neverwhere rather badly now. I also nicked one of the (free) ancticipatory Deathly Hallows bookmarks. I totally love that even the advertising is getting into the whole 'Snape: Good or Evil?' thing: fandom is taking over the world.
Also, Best Time Ever = driving through Pittsburgh in the rain, blaring Steeleye Span, and debating with the siblings as to what the TARDIS noise sounds like. :D We have this family ritual dating back to my toddlerhood which involves us pointing out imaginary sea-life when driving through a tunnel--"oh, look, there's an octopus!" and suchlike (I've taken to saying things like "the Giant Squid!" and "a bunch of krakken!" lately), so we're driving through the tunnel and I go "hey, look, a police box!", and lo, the fandom joke was gotten, and Heidi said, "there's the Doctor! and Rose!" and I smiled smugly with the knowledge of converts made. (And then my brother says, "Rosebud?" and I says, "NO.", and he says, "Her last name should be Bud", and I says, "Nobody is that cruel, even Rose's crazy mother," and that was that. Citizen Kane jokes are the new black in my house, despite my brother having only seen the very beginning and remembering it very well for some reason. I think it's because his Robosapien says "Rosebud!" when you turn it off, which was the best and nerdiest thing ever, especially because we all, except for Heidi, got it. So then I said, "look! it's Orson Welles on a sled!" and my brother gave me the blankest look possible.)
The drive home consisted very much of thick, rolling fog, the sort of fog one rarely finds outside of films (and England), and I kept thinking that we were going to drive out into some barren moor in an alternate Victorian universe or be spirited away by the Unseelie Court, but alas, nothing out of the ordinary happened, which was extremely disappointing.
no subject
Hee. You made up a birthday for Ian. *squees* Somehow November seems a very fitting month for him. Does Tuesday have one, too?
I know what you mean about bookstores; whenever I go into them these days, it's invariably just to wander and touch pretty new books, because my conscience doesn't let me buy them when I know I could get four for the same price secondhand, with the added treasure-hunt fun. Am glad that you got to touch Ysabel though -- I borrowed a copy from the library to read; isn't it pretty?
And then my brother says, "Rosebud?" and I says, "NO.", and he says, "Her last name should be Bud", and I says, "Nobody is that cruel, even Rose's crazy mother," and that was that.
asdl;fjalsdfjlkasd BANUI YOUR FAMILY WINS AT LIFE! :DD
the sort of fog one rarely finds outside of films (and England)
Don't forget Scotland! We've been watching movie adaptations of Macbeth in English class lately, and I swear. The sun never shines in that place; if I were there I would revel in the beauty of the fog for a few weeks and then get really really depressed.
no subject
*laughs* Scotland really is lovely, though - I've been there a couple of times with family and it is gorgeous. And Scottish. And haggis.
Well, it has haggis, anyway...
I still need to ead Macbeth, don't I?
(I blame my failure to do so on the fact that the audiobook of the play that sisterkin downloaded is in American. In almost any other play, this is a sin which I could forgive, but not Macbeth. I anticipated gorgeous Scottish accents. One actor sounding approximately Irish just doesn't... isn't...
I want Scottis accents. Is this truly so terribly, terribly wrong? :P
no subject
I want Scottis accents. Is this truly so terribly, terribly wrong? :P
I'm assuming that this was supposed to read "I want a Scottish accent", and your recalcitrant fingers mangled the line, because otherwise it makes no sense. And no, that is not terribly wrong -- I mean, I want a British accent like mad. If I find a Scottish one for you somewhere can I have yours? :DD
no subject
I don't know. There is, however, a bizarre fascination with inflating things in the British Isles, be they pigs' bladders or strange squeak-making things with sticks poking out of them, athough bagpipes played well can be really quite lovely.
I'm assuming that this was supposed to read "I want a Scottish accent", and your recalcitrant fingers mangled the line, because otherwise it makes no sense.
*hates hates hates* :P
It was actually just meant to say 'I want Scottish accents' without the a, but it works either way. :D
(And also, you forgot to mock me for missing the r off read. But I pointed it out, so you can't now. Hahahaha!)
And no, that is not terribly wrong -- I mean, I want a British accent like mad. If I find a Scottish one for you somewhere can I have yours? :DD
Well, I do actually have a Scottish accent. I usually keep it in an obscure and metaphorical pocket hidden somewhere within my diaphragm, and it only comes out on special occaisions
or very late at night when I'm tired and doing something arty by myself like postcarding my wall, in which case the voices in my head start talking in Scottish accents. However, it is neither desperately good nor desperately consistent, and I do not usually speak with it.Also, I have suddenly had an idea as to how I can get you a British accent, although due to a series of unfortunate events and bad timing it may not be as easy to imliment as I had originally concieved. But it is a very cunning plan... :D
no subject
... But that is like saying... "You were going to cut my hand off but I BEAT YOU TO IT! HAH!" :pp
I'm getting a very strange mental image here -- Anthony, postcards, multiple-personality disorder. Then again, I was anthropomorphising all of my furniture yesterday and swearing at it (blame insomnia) lat night, so. I can't say.
WHAT IS THIS CUNNING PLAN???
no subject
No it's not: it's a controlled detonation. The mine was going to explode anyway, and this way it only took out
that irritating monument of the President's first wife, and they're divorced now anyway...a couple of bushes and things, rather than, you know, somebody's leg... :PIt was a very strange evening
and morning, I have to say...And, thinking about it, I need to do it again. I have more postcards... *manic grin*
WHAT IS THIS CUNNING PLAN???
I could tell you, but then I'd have to
stop you reading bookskill you... *looks cryptic*And, talking of the CUNNING PLAN, I think it may have just been made very much easier indeed...
no subject
STOP REFERRING TO THE CUNNING PLAN AND NOT TELLING ME ANYTHING ABOUT IT! :P :P
no subject
*tries to find a reason why legs are needed in a utpoian world*
..."Legs... unlock... things?"
:DDDDDD???
But the cunning plan is a secret cunning plan! And also one that cannot be carried out in the deepest, darkest, most silent hours of the night, or whilst other people who would ask me what I am doing and why I'm not doing something else are around, and the opportune moment has yet to present itself, so I cannot yet reveal all.
*sits in his chair and looks CUNNING like a fox with a diploma from the University of Sneaking Around And Avoiding Hard Knocks By Being Sneaky and a very large cuddly penguin and lots of teeth*