Nelly Explains Stuff: Christmas Morning at Nelly's

"A word of advice, next time you fight a man with a sonic screwdriver...don't let him near the sound system!" - The Doctor, 2006 Christmas Special The Runaway Bride

First things first, it's four in the morning, most civilized people in this country are either asleep or finishing their fan Doctor Who scripts, I however am unfortunetly doing neither. Instead, I am awake in bed trying to tell my seven year old sister that it's not time to wake up yet. My sister's name is Alice, here's what happened:

Alice: Nelly, let's go downstairs.

Nelly: (Almost completley asleep) No. It's not seven thirty yet.

Alice: But can't we just go down anyway?

Nelly: Mom and Dad said: We can't wake them up till seven.

Alice: But can't we...

Nelly: NO! Mom and Dad said we can't wake them up until seven, we can't go downstairs at seven, we can't open presents at seven, CHRISTMAS DOES NOT START UNTIL SEVEN, if we were to leave this bed before seven then Santa would come, take away our presents and throw us into the white hot pit of flaming plum pudding! DOOM awaits those who go down the steps before seven on Christmas. Abandon all hope, ye who...

At this point, I notice that during my rant my sister has fallen asleep, completely bored and quite possibly frightened by my half comotose speech. Shame really, would have made great autobiography material for her. Anyway, at this point it's about 4:15 and it takes me probably all of a second to fall back to sleep. God bless us, everyone.

At exactly seven on the dot my sister's eyes shoot open and she wakes me up again. This time, I'm not quite as sadistic as I was at four, having had two extra hours of sleep to repent my soul. I head downstairs to find my slippers (because that's the obvious place for them) while my sister goes and wakes up my parents. By 7:10, we're all downstairs.

My family all has matching stockings hand knitted by my mom, except for my sister. It's not because mom wouldn't knit her one, she's had one started for her for years, it's that my sister didn't want a family stocking. Instead, my then three year old sister decided to to assert her independence and make her own stocking. Needless to say, we bought her one at Walmart and let her cover it with glitter. The rest of the stockings are knitted. Cute stockings slightly larger then the average store bought one, each striped according to person. My mom's is striped red-green, my dad's is striped green-red and mine is striped red-white. Alice's was suppose to be striped green-white, but alas, it remains half finished in the barn outback. Again, it's a shame.

Why am I ranting about stockings? I'll tell you why. Have you ever opened a stocking and realized almost instantly that it wasn't yours? Then checked the outside and realized it was? Then checked the inside and realized it wasn't? How imensely confusing is that? Aparently over the night "Santa" got the stocking content confused, and gave all of my mom's stocking stuffers to me and all of mine to her. Clearly hanging out with all those reindeer in a sub-arctic enviroment does terrible things to one's mind.

By 7:30 the presents are torn open. My mom got a dead presidents fact book, my dad got a cargo net, my sister got a VILE baby alive doll and I got:

- A David Tennant as The Doctor action figure (complete with little sonic screwdriver!!)
- A Doctor Who original novel: The Price of Paradise
- A 50$ Gift card to Macy's (FIFTY DOLLARS...what am I going to do with all that?)
- A Doctor Who poster of The Doctor standing looking awsome infront of the TARDIS
- A Doctor Who K-9 keychain
- Two t-shirts, one that says "They say I have ADD, but I think...ok look, a chicken!" and another one that says "Watch it or you'll end up in my novel"
- The Doctor Who Soundtrack (and mousepad and badge)
- A grey sweatshirt
- A blue sweater
- A gift card to iTunes
And by far the most useless yet still incredibly cool gift all year:
-A Doctor Who glass light, basically a pane of glass with the Doctor Who logo lit up in Neon Blue. No IDEA what I'm going to do with this...but I love it!

So yeah, that's my morning. By eight I've managed to read half the book and eat two cinnoman nut buns. At eight thirty I call my friends, see what they got. At nine I contemplate taking a shower but dad says there's no hot water so I end up waiting until nine-thirty. Relatives to come over at ten. At nine thirty I'm about to step into the shower when all the relatives show up, at once, completely unannounced a half an hour early. I don't even get time to put conditioner in or use the hair dryer. I open more presents, hair completely soaked, at ten.

I am aparently the hardest person in the world to shop for. No idea why this is, my friends tell me the same thing. This may be why I ended up receiving seven different notebooks and sketchbooks and six pairs of plain white socks for Christmas. Granted, I love notebooks and sketchbooks, and everyone needs socks. I was just sort of hoping I'd maybe get a pair of earrings or something...

Oh, and of course, the annual famed Aunty Gay gift. I've never met my Aunt Gay, nor do I think she's ever met me. I may have met her once when I was about three years old, and aparently in her world, that's the age I stay forever. This year my gift was the famed five story wooden jewelery box with little bumblebees and flowers painted on the side in pink. It is the most gastly thing I've ever seen in my life. If it really is the thought that counts, then what was she thinking? Anyone want it...anyone?

And so, that's Christmas morning for you. From four to eleven on December 25th, that was my life. At twelve thirty we sat down to have our Christmas dinner (see entry "Putting the England in New England") and at one thiry I quietly excused myself so I could obsessively watch the live streaming broadcast of Doctor Who: The Runaway Bride. Was in state of shock for the rest of the day after hearing David Tennant say Gallifrey, in character, on screen, in a cool and slightly menacing way. And I thought he only did that sort of stuff in my dreams...but let's not go there... Anway, by the end of the evening, while still in shock, I managed to have my book finished, my soundtrack dumped into iTunes, and a fan-fic started in one of my notebooks. All in all, a good Christmas. I even managed to find a place for the light, right at the foot of my bed, where bizarly enough is actually where my head is.

Merry Christmas to all.

And to all, a goodnight.

*Nelly*

I Saw Three Ships

Christmas time is here. Happyness and cheer. Time for all...crap, I can't remember the words. Doesn't really matter considering it's the 29th now anyway and I haven't written anything since November. Sorry kids, been a bit busy.

First off, A Christmas Carol was fantastic! I had so much fun doing it, I nearly cried at the last show!! Even thought I just played a Londoner...and a few other small parts...It was probably one of the funnest things I've done in a while! Next show: Seussical the Musical, rehersals start January CANNOT WAIT!!!

But where else was I? Surely one play couldn't really have kept me offline for a whole month! Well...it basically did. That and the fact that I had to write two whole episodes of Doctor Who for Outpost Gallifrey's Series Three! Outpost Gallifrey is probably the best Doctor Who news site and forum on the web, a few of the forum members decided that instead of waiting till April for series three to come to the UK (which I don't live in, but I have my ways) they would write their own. They needed writers, I needed something to do backstage. It was a perfect match.

Anyway, I wrote two episodes, episodes two and six called "Dr. Martha Jones" and "The Missing Doctor", episode six is still being posted, but you're a member of their forums you can read episode two in it's entirety by going to the fan fiction section and looking for "OG's Series Three - "Dr. Martha Jones""If you're not a member, and for some bizarre reason still want desperantly to read my episodes, e-mail me and I'll send them to you. My e-mail is nnickrim@comcast.net (since I can't remember if it's displayed on the main page of the blog, how's that for not posting in a while!) The fact that I was up until four in the morning finishing episode six proves that I am truely, completely obsessed. What a sad person I am. I love it.

Let's see, what else has happened in my life that you should know about? Hm...I've started wearing a watch...that's fairly monumental...I got a David Tennant action figure, though without the trenchcoat...I found out my family heritage consists almost entirely of viking, pirating horse theives...they said Gallifrey on Doctor Who...oh that's right...

THEY SAID GALLIFREY ON DOCTOR WHO!!!!

...and I also got some socks. Anyone want a five story pink painted jewelery box? Because I sure as heck don't despite what my Great Aunt might think...

Merry Christmas All, and a Happy New Year.

*Nelly*

Putting the England in New England

So as I'm walking down the street one day, contemplating how I can best get my hands on a copy of "Song For Ten" from Doctor Who while simultaniously counting down the minutes to the airing of the new Doctor Who Christmas speacial "The Runaway Bride" (19 days, 21 hours, 04 minutes, 03 seconds at the time of this writing) I slowly begin to realize that I am addicted to England.

Granted, I live in New England, so that's really not all that rare, but I'm pretty sure it hasn't risen to this extent in most cases.

My entire life lately, has revolved around Doctor Who. Watching Doctor Who, writing about Doctor Who, wishing I was watching or writing Doctor Who, wishing I was in Doctor Who, drinking tea while watching Doctor Who. That's my life. When I'm not busy putting on a British accent in this year's production of "A Christmas Carol" in Manchester.

British slang, or at least what I consider to be British slang, has slowly begun to slip into my vocabulary. After watching Rose Tyler on Doctor Who though, how can you possibly not want to yell "Stop mucking about!" at your friend in the cafeteria?

My family isn't really helping either. In my house, BBC America is on all the time. If it's not The History Channel, or PBS, it's BBC. The radio is always turned to NHPR, so we're constantly getting reports from the BBC. My family is also addicted to tea, and aparently (in my mother's own words) has been since "The cave people first heated up water". The family "tea problem" didn't hit me until I saw the 1996 Doctor Who TV Movie where Sylvester McCoy sits around drinking tea at the begining. I suddenly thought "Hm...tea..." and I was gone. I've found myself unable to go a whole day without at least one or two cups.

Do you know what's in an English Christmas Dinner? I certainly didn't, until now. I didn't think they ate anything different then we do here, some turkey, some potatoes, that sort of thing. But aparently, according to my mother, this is what's actually in an English Christmas Dinner:

Standing Rib Roast
Chicken Pie
Yorkshire Pudding
Mashed Potatoes
Roasted Brussel Sprouts
Green Beans
Mince Pies
Custard
Gingerbread

My apologies to those British people out there that may or may not want to kill me now, it's my mom's doing not mine (there's still a little American left in me, I used Mom not Mum) Anyway, it'll be an interesting Christmas over here, that's for sure.

So that's my life right now, trying to not sound too incredibly obsessed with Doctor Who (19 days, 20 hours, 29 minutes, 20 seconds) and the British in general. I wrote a 59 page Doctor Who script the other day though, so it doesn't look good. Anyway, hope you have a jolly good evening.

Tut tut,

*Nelly*