More strange dreams

First, I was at my Grandmother's. Second, I was playing music... On a spinning bike! Yup, that's the new instrument of the year! I have no idea how I did it, but I somehow read some notes and played Christmas carols by stepping on the pedals in a particular way.

Then, again, a sex dream... Now in my old house, my parents' bed and with a guy I have no idea who was. He was there while I played on the bike, too. Basically, he was pale, not particulary blessed about the hair and not fit, but not exactly fat either. Bugged me who he was until I entered the glorious world of Facebook before my breakfast and discovered that "bloody hell, it's him!" My (not-so-)secret Irish admirer which I have added as a friend for fun's sake. Creepy? He calls me pretty and I start having dreams about him? Not in a romantic way, though, sex is just sex for me.

Anyway, I've been having a lot of strange dreams lately and it probably answers to having a very full head, as of the last weeks. Won't get to empty it before school starts again, though, ironically enough... Tell you more about that when it is something to tell.

I dreamt

It was in my old room, me and some guy, getting intimate in one way and another. That's fine, I have nothing against that, what troubles me is that I have no idea if it was Axel, Brody, Fergus, or bloody Voldemort in the for of Joe Walker... Most likely a combination... All I really remember is that he was fair-skinned, slim and dark-haired. It's starting to get on my nerves.

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So simple, so sexy! Maybe I haven't mentioned I love red bikes too? And the knife (sorry, forgot what it's called, sgigh something?) is the finite touch of perfectness! *drool*

Found at the Kilt Blog! Love that site at the moment.

And some more from Google:

I could complain, but I don't think I'll bother... Okay then, the picture is taken a second to early and from the wrong angle, but I guess porn doesn't show up on Google X3

Beam me up, Scotty!

Monty Python continues to be the kings of comedy!

Okay, my bad, go to fotoflingscotland.com for more kilts! XD

A bit of win, a bit of fail

The WIN part (which I have nothing to do with):

The FAIL part, which I had everything to do with:

*Walking to the bus stop*

Me *stops dead*: Shit, I forgot my book! I forgot my Jamie-book, in the locker! NO! *Slides down in a heap on the sidewalk before getting a bit of a grip on myself* Well, okay, then... No, I have to go back and get it, okay? If it was just a weekend it would be okay, but it'll be a week 'til school again, I can't go a week without Jamie! 

E: Okay....

Me: Okay, so I'll just go and get it and you can take the bus now and I'll come with the next and--

E: I'll be at the library in the meantime.

Me: Libra--? Oh, yeah, I'll just go and get it! *Runs back to school* I'm not addicted or anything!

Obsessed? No, not the slightest... It would just suck major donkey balls to go nine days without even the possibility of reading. And I must say I was pretty stupid to leave my bag in the locker, thinking there was nothing there I needed and not remembering it before we were almost at the bus stop. At least I remembered it before we got on the bus!

I also "stormed" into a class I'm not supposed to have just because they were going to watch The Last King of Scotland and I needed to hear some Scottish. Can never get enough Scottish, you know. XD

My blankie!

Well, duvet, then. Anyway, we decided to just take the guest-room and the one doublebed last night. Two pillows, two duvets, one madrass.
But did I get to keep my cover? No... She decided to kick her own down on the floor and take mine. Worked fine for a while when we both curled up under it, but then she decided she wanted it all by herself and yanked hard! I yanked back, because it was my goddamn duvet!
Yank here, yank there, yank back again... After a while she realised it wasn't hers, and began looking for the other and luckily found it again on the floor so we could sleep some more. How long we've been sharing that one duvet we still have no idea, but it had to be a while.

We also had some fun before falling asleep, which left me writhling against the wall. No, all she did was a rather poor imitation of Gerard Butler, but it was hilarious at the time. And I was tired enough to have a very vivid imagination and the thought of being in bed with Gerry-boy was enough to almost make me hyperventilate from laughter. Yep, it's called being pathetic.

Now, some Irish music!

This almost made me cry the first time I listened to it, because after reading Outlander and stuff I've really realised that history, that happened to people! And even though this is Irish history, it have every ounce of the same emotions involved as the happenings on Culloden in Scotland.

And some happy music:

Since I can't say "kiss me, I'm Irish" I can still say "kiss me, you're Irish!" Works even better, if you ask me!

This made me happy!

This made me very, very happy, indeed! Complete stranger on Facebook, but I thought it was very sweet, spelling nothwithstanding.

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Watch us fail big time!

Like anyone was actually interested in seeing that... Well, we found it very funny, at least! Too bad I didn't get to record the whole make up session, I only remembered halfway through and then the cam stopped working. Oh, well...

My new goal:

Okay, I can blame the Outlander-books for this, but that's not really important... My new goal is to find a Scot and have a lively discussion with him (or her, if it's a shortage of blokes) about the colour of the sky!

I have a resonable good reason for it too: Jamie (yes, the glorious James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser!) made a comment somewhere along the way about how it's not possible to get two Scots to agree on much besides the colour of the sky, and even that's up for questions sometimes.

And it is, isn't it? The sky isn't just a monogamous blue, it shifts from the lightest turquis in the morning to lead-grey in storm, plain dark blue-grey, white or grey if it's cloudy and don't forget just before dawn and sunset, where you can find orange, gold, aprocot (not the fruit, though,) pink, indigo... There's no end to it!

So with that small mind-twister, I'll leave you and continue to eat my cold porridge. Yes, I feel quite well, thanks for asking. :D

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Recap from July 18:

"I want a time-machine! I don't care if it's á la Jules Verne, a flying Delorean or a Time-Turner, I want to go back, smack myself in the head and nick some tickets to that freakin' premiere! "

Or I might go out and see if there's any stone circles hanging about! XD

My ship is loaded with

Some of my friends had started a round with it on Facebook, and I had to join in a bit. The funny part is how much of the things reminded me of  Jamie Fraser...

I said Indians on purpose, because Jamie & co are meeting with some at the moment. (Where I am reading, at least.)

E said hunters, and that I should watch my Indians. Well... Jamie is a class A hunter and had just shot an elk, before falling down and putting his back out of joint. Very cleaver when it's snowing and no one knows where you are. Luckily Claire isn't the kind of woman to just sit and wait at home while he freezes to death.

A said cannons, which leads us directly to Voyager and the ships there.

E then said land crabs, something Jamie also is a class A example of, he goes green if he as much as sees a boat.

E said oil and A said paraffin, which leads me to think of turpentine and Jocasta MacKenzie's plantation.

E also said spaceships, which reminded me of Pigfarts, but that don't have anything to do with Jamie. XD

Yeah, I think that was all. Slightly obsessed about Jamie, maybe? Keep dreaming about him, but it's only the shortest of moments and I often see Claire or even Murtagh more clearly! That annoys me quite a bit... Anyway, because I'm sick now I managed to fall asleep and dream I was Claire (I remember the hair vividly) and we (me and Jamie, in case it should be any confusion here) ate potato salad. How random and nice.

Just something I forgot;

There's a difference between "fighting fire" and "farting fire", although it leads to hilarity when one mixes them up.

Yoghurt mishaps and some other incidents

I managed to spill my yoghurt on the table today and was just about to get up to get napkins, but luckily (which is very hard to spell right now; kuckely, luckely, etc.) my "wife" had some in her purse. Somehow it made me feel like Frank Randall... I had to ask where she got them, cuz I remember her putting them in there some time ago and it turned out she had snatched them from the cafe last time we went there for lunch. At the time I didn't see why she would bother bringing them, but in hindsight I'm glad she did.

She was also very nice and spilled water down my jeans. Luckily (very funny word today) we were outside, so it didn't matter, but I didn't quite see the point. When I said this, she said she didn't know the bottle was open and when she put it between her legs and squeezed, she "came" all over me...

We talked about Outlander, which isn't anything new exactly, but she mixed Fred and Frank. Not funny to most people, but if you know George (as in Weasley) have been translated to Frank, it is. To me, at least.

Plus... Yeah, we discussed the prononoucing of "neither". She says "naither" while I say "neither" with clean E so to speak. My step-father was nice enough to inform us that is Cockney accent and I plainly went down the stairs shouting "I love cocks!" She voiced in with "me too! Your step-father didn't hear that."

Now we're about to watch Enchanted and soon eat I hope. :D

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Okay, so I was wearing a rather old pair of jeans, with long tails of fabric worn off on the bottoms of the legs. A great trip wire, I discovered when I laid sprawled upstairs in the hall.

And time for a little game! Well, not so much a game as a device to pass time. (I should probably put some spoiler warning here; do not proceed if you don't want to know what happens in Outlander and coming books.)

I proudly presents: Failed ways to kill Jamie Fraser!

1. Hang him. Won't do you much good when Claire sweeps in with a horde of cattle to rescue him from the prison.

2. Break his arm and hope an infection festers in the wound. Again, Claire is there to save the day.

3. Shoot him in the head. He's too thick-sculled, that Scot!

4. Make him go berserk on a suicide-mission against the Redcoats. Well, in that case he'll just run like a madman 'til he's behind the English guns, then back again until some greater power sees it fitting for him to be cornered. Then, let the officer who plans on banging his head off recognise him and he'll be well on his way back to Lallybroch and Jenny Murray, a force stronger than nasty germs.

Anyone have more to add? 

I'm blogging now!

Yeah, that wasn't obvious at all... Don't really have anything to say, I'm too busy reading Voyager, of the Outlander series. Third book and I'm soon finished... Seems a bit of a waste to sail halfway around the globe, for a seasick man nonetheless, to hunt down a single lad. Well, some other things got in the way too, but otherwise they could sought refurgee in France or something. Yeah, I find that part of the plot a trifle thin, but I'll just roll with it. (Sorry if I spoiled anything for anyone.)

And the day I'll understand men, the sun will surely be setting in the east.

Um... That's all then.

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No, it's not! The original title of this should be Bare-arsed in the bog but stupid as I am, I forgot!

Anyway, we're having a project at school now, which includes a trip out on the boggy bog. Fine, wellington boots are a must and E took it all the way and showed up in waders. It might seem as a bit of an overkill, but it was the only thing she had, and good riddance that was too!

She stepped directly into a suckish hole, which, logically enough, suck her down 'til she had water up to her knee and well over I think. Thanks to the glorious, green waders she stayed dry, but it was a bit of work to haul her up again. As the hole generated a nice vacuum, the boot stayed put while her leg made some progress upwards.

As it was, the waders were firmly tied to her jeans. Which didn't follow her leg and my pulling any more than the boot and it was a near thing not the entire class got a nice view of her pale, bare arse in the middle of searching for plants. (Sorry, but there's a scarce supply of white women with tanned arses, the truth!)

We did get her out of there in the end though, properly clothed and dry, and another nice story to tell. :D

I haven't been drinking, but it fucking feels like it. Watched 300, Dracula 2001 and RocknRolla today, and I'm still not tired of Gerard Butler. Pure sex all the way. I'm not gonna lie, the way he talks in Dracula got me turned on like hell!

Gonna squeeze in some reading before I turn in and leave the blogging for tomorrow... The popcorn party was fun, but I'm a bit bruised, turned out popcorn makes floor slippery and high heels isn't the best match if you're trying to keep on your feet.

SHITTING, FUCKING, BLOODY HELL!

Yeah, someone came with that exclaimation today, in a rather Irish accent. And it wasn't me. 

Reminds me, we had a kind of "listen and place the people" thing in English today. I took three of them just on the name. As long as we're driving on stereotypes, Hamish McDonald would be Scottish, Seamus Sweeney would be Irish and the chick with an Indy-sounding name would be from India. Frankly, in real life they could have been from the States or any other place, but I figured they took it the safe way. Plus, I got a rather hysterical laughter-fit over the Scottish accent, it was just... Well, I've been reading more Outlander books, have started on the third now, so I'm getting more and more fond of Scotland by the minute. Fonder, is that a word?

Think I surprised the teacher a bit by knowing what haggis is. Well, that's thanks to Jamie and that lot. But I seemed unable to say "sheep", it kept coming out as "cheap". Reminds me of when I said I would go "Christmas chopping". Well, the teacher pronounced "come" as "cum", so what do I have to say? He's from Wales, do that help? I think I was the only one who noticed too. Honestly, cum?

My hand also decided that instead of scribbling "long live guesswork" next to a grammar activity I failed at, it wrote "long live Scotland." Uh-hum...

No red baloons now, but this is the 200th post. Shitting, fucking, bloody hell! I've written a lot of hilarity, I've been told. More to come, I hope.

Popcorn party tonight. Basically foam party, but with popcorn! :D