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Gacked from [livejournal.com profile] rum_tum_tum

the downfall of your fandom by skuldchan
Username:
Fandom:
How it happened:You got disgusted with the influx of stupid fans and went to something more intelligent
Created with quill18's MemeGen 3.0!


the downfall of your fandom by skuldchan
Username:
Fandom:
How it happened:William Shatner came and shot every single one of you
Created with quill18's MemeGen 3.0!


the downfall of your fandom by skuldchan
Username:
Fandom:
How it happened:The creators of the series killed your favorite characters, so everyone in the fandom left
Created with quill18's MemeGen 3.0!


the downfall of your fandom by skuldchan
Username:
Fandom:
How it happened:You fandom was invaded by the slash fangirls, the doom of all mankind
Created with quill18's MemeGen 3.0!


the downfall of your fandom by skuldchan
Username:
Fandom:
How it happened:William Shatner came and shot every single one of you
Created with quill18's MemeGen 3.0!


the downfall of your fandom by skuldchan
Username:
Fandom:
How it happened:You got disgusted with the influx of stupid fans and went to something more intelligent
Created with quill18's MemeGen 3.0!


That was far too much fun.

After last night's shennanigans, I went to bed fairly early after watching Black Books and finding the world's greatest quote: "Let's PAAART-" "Do NOT use that word as a verb in this shop!" Thought: is Bernard just Fic!Bitch!Colleen? A scary but plausible thought.

... help me.

There was a train of thought to this entry, several minutes ago. Where was I? Ah, yes; last night. Well, I went to bed and locked up the house, since mum and sister had scarpered. Dad was at the pub at a Leavers Do, and I guessed he had his keys. Oh no. At 2am, he rang the doorbell. And then had the nerve to have a go at me! Well, call ME Miss (Ms?) Stupid for locking the door...

Should have left him locked out, actually.

I woke up this morning fiendishly early so as to get the bus to college. Saw it drive away as I approached the station. Doh! So, I started off late, then the bus trundled along at about 3miles an hour and arrived at college LATE, so I had to get a late appointment to see Jayne. Who was also running late.

Do you see where this story is going? I feel now is the right juncture to point out that it's still an hour and twenty minutes to actually GET there from my house when taking the STUPIDLY LONG BUS ROUTE OF DOOM. *sporks Arriva*

So, I reeled off my speech to Jayne and the sonnet. She told me to move less. I then gabbled something along the lines of "I reallyreallyreally have to leave now" and ran like a girl out of the college. It might be worth pointing out that it was only at this moment I realised I'd missed a full four lines of my speech. I Am Going To Fail This Exam.

It then dawned on me it was 11.30 and also that getting to Liverpool would be two hours worth of travelling if I was lucky. God, it's good thing I did overtime this month. Spoilt, lazy teenager that I am, I actually forked out for a taxi to Ormskirk in my rush. Quite expensive. Eeep. Won't say how much, but there we are. I then sat on the train and was generally antisocial to all around me, especially the odd little girl who was licking the window. I mean... uh?

By some miracle of the admittingly lovely taxi driver, I did make it on time for the original meeting. Considering otherwise I'd have turned up at 2, it's not bad. I still feel my usual "argh fuck I've spent money you're so lazy" thing, but it'll pass. Hopefully.

On the bright side, though, I saw lots of LJ people, i.e. [livejournal.com profile] loneraven [livejournal.com profile] cucharita [livejournal.com profile] shipperkitten and [livejournal.com profile] osiris13. An amusing day was had. Iona was hopping, Clare was manic on coffee, Em was... Em and Enid had brought along Adam. We talked about sporks, and armour (which I want because it's just groovy, especially rhe suit of it in Quiggins), and Enid did zombie impressions. It's all good. We didn't seem to do very much conventional shopping, unless you count the miracle of finding Clare jeans that actually fall down the floor, and the mess-miracle of not finding any Iona-shape jeans. Alas.

However, we then decided it would be a really spiffy idea to go and give blood. I'm not entirely sure what gave light to this remarkable idea, but off we trundled to the donation point.

Well, I was automatically a no-no. I have to wait until next Easter when the piercings have been there a year; Iona was first too light (?!) and then discovered she could never give blood to an infection she had when she was small; Clare wussed out; and then Em was anaemic. I think the nurses hate us. As [livejournal.com profile] loneraven has just said "So much for young altruism."

One trek to Moorfields later and then we went home. I got off at lovely old Ormskirk, and trundled the pretty way, along by the graveyard. Which had suddenly gone all horrifying and scary. I was just passing by the end and there was a bloody OPEN GRAVE with a mound of earth next to it. This would have been fine if it wasn't digging up an existing plot that had been there since 1980, and I know that because I've walked past it too many times not to notice.

Panicked. Outrageously so. Stupid, in retrospect, but there's been so many articles in the local rag about vandalising gravestones and stuff, and I'm sorry, but that's just wrong. I LIKE the Parish Church. It's the reason for this crummy little town to be here, it REEKS of history, Margarent Beauford (mother to Henry VII) is buried there, and it has graves going back to the fifteenth century. It'sunfortunately very plain, having suffered during various Puritannical C of E malarkeys, but it's still drop-dead beautiful. And going after people's GRAVES? How sick is that? And dude, there was a big open pit over an old headstone with no markers or anything! And I've seen far too many zombie films recently and Enid does not help matters...

I panicked. Initial response was to phone the police, but I quashed that as being a tad melodramatic. So, I thought of what to do. Thinking of my failure of being a Socially Responsible Young Citizen Of Britain Today (curse my socialism) at the bloodbank I decided against the doing nothing option. So, I trekked back up the hill to the Church. In the pouring rain. Has anyone ever told you how slippy old steps are in the rain? Worse, I didn't actually know where the official people lived. It's obvious in Catholicism, which is what I know; but in CofE? Perhaps not. I eventually deciphered that 'The Vicarage' might be where they lived. So I knocked on the door and told my story.

The vicar's wife (Mrs Vicar?) dragged me inside. This was me, in my soaking wet jeans and big boots, CD player headphones around my neck, and worse, my Catholic tendancies, being taken into The Vicarage. Argh! Still, told my story. I was them calmy informed that it was a reburial. Ooops Mrs Vicar called me sweet for telling them anyway. I blushed and left swiftly.

Dad laughed at me. I called him a drunkard who couldn't work out his own keys. He stopped laughing then. But we watched Red Dwarf together, so I think we're pretty much even now.

Lastly, to the OSA bitches as we're so delightfully known: Meet Lindir. In long hair, obviously.

I think I need to update my profile like [livejournal.com profile] wearingabeenie: I need details on who these people are for the outside readers. Maybe one day. Am lazy.

~Hathy_Col~
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