(no subject)
OMG, NCHS guys. Season 3, episode 3, Nip/Tuck. A Miller twin has his face stuck to someone's ass and has it surgically removed. Fantastic! (in my best Doctor Who voice)
In other news, I can text message Jules when she's in Zinder.
My dissertation draft is nearly done and damn sure will be done tomorrow.
The Edinburgh Festival, about which I need to write much, was the most wonderful thing, hundreds of times better than I had expected and I went in with REALLY HIGH expections (well, not for the shows, because I knew we'd see some crap, but for the whole experience). Edinburgh's been at no.2 on the "List of Things Joyce Wants to do Someday" for a very, very long time (well, since Drina the Ballerina danced at the Edinburgh Festival in book five of the Drina series. Yes. Shut up.) and I was so excited to go, to spend a whole week with boy, and to see some great and awful stuff. Gah! I can't even tell you what it's like! But, there are 261 venues, 1,800 shows a day scattered all over the city in little pubs, giant upside-down purple cows, arches under bridges, church halls and a room that I was last in to see Question Time of the Scottish Parliament (no joke! my parents would have loved the coincidence), and such an amazing feeling of excitement and of being part of something huge! There are people everywhere trying to get you to come to shows, a program that's as thick as a fashion magazine, and a million different choices.
REALLY exciting moment of the festival was seeing Alan Rickman. Granted, it was at the show that he directed (My Name is Rachael Corrie...awesome!), but still! SNAPE! :-D I also loved that the show about Holocaust denial had an entire part devoted to the Roma Holocaust, very appropriate considering that I'd spent the week before bitching about how forgotten they were as victims of the Holocaust. Going to the Quaker Meetinghouse just off the Royal Mile, even if it was just for a show. Climbing Arthur's Seat and being annoyingly out of breath. Boy has very long legs and a past that involves climbing, so not entirely my fault. Blue police boxes everywhere! Boy took my photo, although he ridiculed the idea of using a pen as a sonic screwdriver to "pick" the locks. Ack! There's so much! And I need to write a really long e-mail about the whole thing, but it will have to wait.
Also, Sam (or Sam's grandma, really) called me on the phone to make sure I was ok and to cheer me up. He says real sentances! Not that I could understand other than the "Hi Joyce" and "Bye bye," but it was adorable! I miss him and I'm sad that I've missed him growing up.
Errrr. That's enough. I should sleep.
Oh, finally, if you're engaged, tell me! Don't make me check facebook profiles! (Berghoff, you're off the hook. You still get a cookie.)
In other news, I can text message Jules when she's in Zinder.
My dissertation draft is nearly done and damn sure will be done tomorrow.
The Edinburgh Festival, about which I need to write much, was the most wonderful thing, hundreds of times better than I had expected and I went in with REALLY HIGH expections (well, not for the shows, because I knew we'd see some crap, but for the whole experience). Edinburgh's been at no.2 on the "List of Things Joyce Wants to do Someday" for a very, very long time (well, since Drina the Ballerina danced at the Edinburgh Festival in book five of the Drina series. Yes. Shut up.) and I was so excited to go, to spend a whole week with boy, and to see some great and awful stuff. Gah! I can't even tell you what it's like! But, there are 261 venues, 1,800 shows a day scattered all over the city in little pubs, giant upside-down purple cows, arches under bridges, church halls and a room that I was last in to see Question Time of the Scottish Parliament (no joke! my parents would have loved the coincidence), and such an amazing feeling of excitement and of being part of something huge! There are people everywhere trying to get you to come to shows, a program that's as thick as a fashion magazine, and a million different choices.
REALLY exciting moment of the festival was seeing Alan Rickman. Granted, it was at the show that he directed (My Name is Rachael Corrie...awesome!), but still! SNAPE! :-D I also loved that the show about Holocaust denial had an entire part devoted to the Roma Holocaust, very appropriate considering that I'd spent the week before bitching about how forgotten they were as victims of the Holocaust. Going to the Quaker Meetinghouse just off the Royal Mile, even if it was just for a show. Climbing Arthur's Seat and being annoyingly out of breath. Boy has very long legs and a past that involves climbing, so not entirely my fault. Blue police boxes everywhere! Boy took my photo, although he ridiculed the idea of using a pen as a sonic screwdriver to "pick" the locks. Ack! There's so much! And I need to write a really long e-mail about the whole thing, but it will have to wait.
Also, Sam (or Sam's grandma, really) called me on the phone to make sure I was ok and to cheer me up. He says real sentances! Not that I could understand other than the "Hi Joyce" and "Bye bye," but it was adorable! I miss him and I'm sad that I've missed him growing up.
Errrr. That's enough. I should sleep.
Oh, finally, if you're engaged, tell me! Don't make me check facebook profiles! (Berghoff, you're off the hook. You still get a cookie.)