(no subject)
NO I DIDN'T WATCH TORCHWOOD. NO I DON'T HAVE BBC3. NO I DON'T HAVE BROADBAND.
I just thought if I shout it, I might not have to repeat the above so much. I was beginning to sound like Vyvyan. Not enough people believe I live in the Middle Ages.
Had the most peculiar soap opera dream yesterday. I was supposed to be getting married to Ian Dawson. For the unitiated, I had the briefest of flings with Ian at school. We were six. We "split" because we share a birthday (OMG, that's soon, I feel old) and at that age boys went to his parties and girls went to mine. Well, apart from when I was seven and my party was all boys, bizarrely. We didn't go to each others. Idiots. Young love, eh?
Anyway, he wasn't entirely keen to get married. Dream Me was upset about this, obviously. And with some reason, since it transpired she was newly pregnant (what again?). I love the way a doctor came up to us and announced it WAS A BOY. Didn't even ask, so Dream Me's day was further ruined. Then came the twist. Dream Me's friend was talking about 'John'. I asked which John. Transpires Ian is now called John. Confusing. But then apparently I also knew a John2. And once Friend has gone, guess who should be hanging around but John2 and then all is revealed. Slutty!Hypocritical!Dream Me obviously has got a thing going on with John2.
What makes this even more weird is that John2 is apparently Jay. Of Jay and Silent Bob fame. Yeah.
Anyway, in the hospitalish-building-with-lots-of-stairs that this is all taking place in, there's a toilet room and inside it there's a magical book which you can write questions in and it will provide answers, a la Tom Riddle's diary.
It gets worse.
Everyone nicknamed this book 'Uncle'. It wasn't until my dream self went to query what she should do (John1? John2? Or one of celebs she's got lucky with recently?) when I woke up and later realised that my subconscious had made some crazy pun.
'Uncle Book'.
Just because I love the film Uncle Buck, subconscious, it does not excuse the craziness you just threw at me. Stop it.
Of course, equally weird was the dream I had on Friday.
I was at some assembly/prize giving thing and three people were plucked out of the audience, including myself. We were told to go backstage and devise a play in half an hour using the props provided.
No big problem - I seemed quite excited, it was like doing Drama lessons again. And the other woman picked was none other than FELICITY BLOODY KENDALL. And there was some short chubby bloke who wasn't remotely familiar. He wasn't too keen and wandered off for a bit. Which frankly was no concern as Robert Bathurst decided to join and watch FELICITY KENDALL and myself think out a plot. We decided the play should be some farce where we're both fighting over the other bloke. She's obviously the glamourous spoiled ex-wife and I'm the young bimbo golddigger girlfriend in a PVC nurses costume. And it ended with the most ridiculous fight on top of a table.
Thanks, subconscious. That's what you think of me is it? Gah.
I just thought if I shout it, I might not have to repeat the above so much. I was beginning to sound like Vyvyan. Not enough people believe I live in the Middle Ages.
Had the most peculiar soap opera dream yesterday. I was supposed to be getting married to Ian Dawson. For the unitiated, I had the briefest of flings with Ian at school. We were six. We "split" because we share a birthday (OMG, that's soon, I feel old) and at that age boys went to his parties and girls went to mine. Well, apart from when I was seven and my party was all boys, bizarrely. We didn't go to each others. Idiots. Young love, eh?
Anyway, he wasn't entirely keen to get married. Dream Me was upset about this, obviously. And with some reason, since it transpired she was newly pregnant (what again?). I love the way a doctor came up to us and announced it WAS A BOY. Didn't even ask, so Dream Me's day was further ruined. Then came the twist. Dream Me's friend was talking about 'John'. I asked which John. Transpires Ian is now called John. Confusing. But then apparently I also knew a John2. And once Friend has gone, guess who should be hanging around but John2 and then all is revealed. Slutty!Hypocritical!Dream Me obviously has got a thing going on with John2.
What makes this even more weird is that John2 is apparently Jay. Of Jay and Silent Bob fame. Yeah.
Anyway, in the hospitalish-building-with-lots-of-stairs that this is all taking place in, there's a toilet room and inside it there's a magical book which you can write questions in and it will provide answers, a la Tom Riddle's diary.
It gets worse.
Everyone nicknamed this book 'Uncle'. It wasn't until my dream self went to query what she should do (John1? John2? Or one of celebs she's got lucky with recently?) when I woke up and later realised that my subconscious had made some crazy pun.
'Uncle Book'.
Just because I love the film Uncle Buck, subconscious, it does not excuse the craziness you just threw at me. Stop it.
Of course, equally weird was the dream I had on Friday.
I was at some assembly/prize giving thing and three people were plucked out of the audience, including myself. We were told to go backstage and devise a play in half an hour using the props provided.
No big problem - I seemed quite excited, it was like doing Drama lessons again. And the other woman picked was none other than FELICITY BLOODY KENDALL. And there was some short chubby bloke who wasn't remotely familiar. He wasn't too keen and wandered off for a bit. Which frankly was no concern as Robert Bathurst decided to join and watch FELICITY KENDALL and myself think out a plot. We decided the play should be some farce where we're both fighting over the other bloke. She's obviously the glamourous spoiled ex-wife and I'm the young bimbo golddigger girlfriend in a PVC nurses costume. And it ended with the most ridiculous fight on top of a table.
Thanks, subconscious. That's what you think of me is it? Gah.