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Jun. 22nd, 2009 08:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kerriesakuraGood MORNING, if it is a good morning. My morning is so far... eh. Just so.
I had a very interesting dream about Andrew Maxwell last night. I'm not putting this here in some sort of Sad Fangirl display, though no doubt I am one, but because my dreams TORTURE ME SO. Not for the reason you might think, either, but because only in my dreams do I have have the mental and verbal dexterity to spar with an actual stand-up comedian. In real life I'd go "um?" or possibly ":D!" and say something generic and boring like your show was great and then when safely out of sight, bounce a bit and make "eeeeeeeee!" noises only audible to dogs. RUBBISH.
But in my dreams I am cool and awesome and clever and hold my own in arguments about the Super Furry Animals - I don't know either - and the night, and the dream, ends with dancing in Dublin. With Maxwell. Oh, brain. I do love you really.
Suspect this was triggered by the en masse booking of many Fringe tickets yesterday. 4.5 days, 9 shows. This is faintly ridiculous, and I'd post the list here but I'm scared of jinxing it or something and making it not happen because SO EXCITED I CAN'T EVEN TELL YOU! ~flails~ Maxwell is one of them though, and suspect I may go on about it forever, though last year it didn't happen like that because I went on about Ed Byrne for weeks, then got to the Fringe and went on about Rhod Gilbert instead. So who knows? Just... might explode. Really might this time. It needs to be the 10th August now. Epic comedy, then Manchester for epic barbeque DID I MENTION SQUEE? :D
Ahem.
This weekend has been spent with my nose in a psychology textbook. I am now ready to start planning and writing my first essay for six years. This is in no way worrying or daunting oh my no.
I had a very interesting dream about Andrew Maxwell last night. I'm not putting this here in some sort of Sad Fangirl display, though no doubt I am one, but because my dreams TORTURE ME SO. Not for the reason you might think, either, but because only in my dreams do I have have the mental and verbal dexterity to spar with an actual stand-up comedian. In real life I'd go "um?" or possibly ":D!" and say something generic and boring like your show was great and then when safely out of sight, bounce a bit and make "eeeeeeeee!" noises only audible to dogs. RUBBISH.
But in my dreams I am cool and awesome and clever and hold my own in arguments about the Super Furry Animals - I don't know either - and the night, and the dream, ends with dancing in Dublin. With Maxwell. Oh, brain. I do love you really.
Suspect this was triggered by the en masse booking of many Fringe tickets yesterday. 4.5 days, 9 shows. This is faintly ridiculous, and I'd post the list here but I'm scared of jinxing it or something and making it not happen because SO EXCITED I CAN'T EVEN TELL YOU! ~flails~ Maxwell is one of them though, and suspect I may go on about it forever, though last year it didn't happen like that because I went on about Ed Byrne for weeks, then got to the Fringe and went on about Rhod Gilbert instead. So who knows? Just... might explode. Really might this time. It needs to be the 10th August now. Epic comedy, then Manchester for epic barbeque DID I MENTION SQUEE? :D
Ahem.
This weekend has been spent with my nose in a psychology textbook. I am now ready to start planning and writing my first essay for six years. This is in no way worrying or daunting oh my no.
