Just when you thought I couldn't get any dorkier.

English? Not my only language. And because this post was such a hit (totally need a sarcasm font) I thought I'd write another installment. Because there's more than one way to speak geek.

Languages to Master:
English
Spanish
Smalltalk
Pig Latin
Video Nerd
Fangirl

Special note: Fangirl is a language that is not intended to be spoken. Attempts at speaking will reflect poorly on the mental state of the guilty party. This is a text language, yo.

Let us begin with highlighting the differences between Fangirl and Video Nerd. First off -- and perhaps most important -- is the emote. Due to the nature of online conversing, emotion/actions must be expressed through text rather than inflection or physical representation. Thus, the 'emote' was born. As I have mentioned before, in the online gaming industry the emote is denoted with a backslash: /hides. In the wonderful world of Unhealthy Obsession with Fiction, the emote is indicated by the presence of asterisks: *hides*. The most common emotes: *head desk* and *face palm*.

Also, though Fangirl does frequently make use of intentional misspelling, I have found that grammar isn't something so blatantly ignored. "i r teh suck" wouldn't really fly with the gals. We're an "I am" kind of people.

Perhaps because screaming fangirls rarely stop to take a breath, it is also very common in this form of conversing to smash words together. Really, any old words will do. However, there are some commonly reused smooshes and you can never go wrong if you start it with 'omgwtf.' Omgwtfstopitnow.

Along the same lines as the smooshing is the exclamation point. This is used to tie words together and create a new subject in and of itself. For example, the image conjured when Lauren thinks of Joe Flanigan in a wetsuit needs its own name. Thus: Scuba!Joe is born.

Fangirls have been known to make verbs out of words that aren't (and sometimes out of names). For example, if Fred stated the obvious it would be referred to as 'obviousing'... and if he did it allthetimeomg it would begin to be referred to as Freding. Or, if Tiffany yelled "faster, Allie, come on!" during our workout sessions I would say that she had Laurened me.

Anyway, blah blah. Lets get some vocab.

wibble
v.
Frequently used in the emote form, *wibble* is the state of being overcome with emotion. Balancing on the brink of tears.

like whoa
adj.
To the extreme.

example: Joe Flanigan is sexy like whoa.

oh noes
excl.
Pretty much the same as "Oh no!" Used to express dismay.

squee
excl.
The cornerstone of Fangirldom, squee is the word put to the sound of the gleeful girlie squeak. Imagine the noise I'd make if Michael Vartan stopped and asked me for directions. That is a squee.

Now, make sure you're alone. This isn't something you're going to want to do in public. As I have previously stated, should someone catch you verbalizing Fangirl you will be humiliated. You think it sounds ridiculous in print just wait until you walk in on someone squeeing.

Okay, once the coast is clear, get out of your chair and jump up and down several times. Throw in a girlie clap or two. Think of something very exciting. Now, squeal "zomg[whatever you're thinking]" without taking a break between words. Try thinking of something that would surprise/disturb you. Throw a "wtfbbq" before it. Something that makes you sad: "ohnoes" is the preface you're looking for.

Now, slap your palm on your forehead.

Congratulations. You are now an honorary fangirl. Go ahead, make your name a verb.

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Oh. My. Lord.

You know how people refer to high school students as little shits? Yeah, well, I'm there. And I feel really guilty about it -- I do. I know they're not at fault. But, damnit, I need someone to blame.

Curses, Band Camp, you hateful, hateful coterie. You with your side lawn practices and unfathomable volume. You with your pulsing beats that shake the walls of my previously peaceful home.

Does the metronome have to be so hellishly loud and blindlingly persistent?

The irony being that even with the *twang twang twang* of said time-keeper throbbing in my brain the precussion section is still offbeat.

Can we just cut our losses and unplug it? For my sanity?

Pretty please with a tuba on top?

(ETA: Um, except Thaddeus. You are exempt. Sadly, your friends are not.)

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So - I've been working out.

/sigh

Please stop laughing.

I'm serious.

It's true.

Anyway. BootCampBitch -- uh, I mean, my dear dear sister Lauren has put me on a vigorous routine. It started about two months ago, but I'll admit, I wasn't a very good little soldier to start with. I've been known to... uh... er... hide under the bed when BCB was looking for a workout partner. To solve this little problem, master drill sergeant has instituted a new regime -- this one comes complete with punishment.

That's right. If I don't workout six days a week [doom] I have to add an extra 15 minutes onto my next cardio session [/doom].

This may not seem like much, but let me tell you - when the digital display on that stationary bicycle hits 4:59 I'm already internally weeping. You can imagine the horror if I knew I couldn't stop the insanity until it said 45:00. I'd probably cycle myself right off a cliff. (No small feat when the wheels don't touch ground.)

Needless to say, this punishment thing is working. I have yet to skip a day. /beams

So three days a week I'm at the Courthouse Athletic Club humiliating myself by performing girl pushups in front of all the local boys and fifty year old women who do a damn good Jack Palance.

The remaining three days find me in BCB's garage listening to the wit of Tony the VHS workout man. Oh, and let me not forget "the kids" - Paul and Lisa. Lisa, btw looks like Alanis Morisette and punches so lamely that should she wind up toe-to-toe with a four year old, I'd advise her to run for the hills. Paul is simply eye-candy for Lauren. Tony is, well, maybe funny the first time. But let me tell you, the jokes get old after the tenth viewing. You can imagine them now. And every single time he tells me to "suck it up" I lose a little bit of my will to live.

Anyway, I'm doing my 90 days and I actually am seeing results. I'm buff like woah and not afraid to flex for you. Maybe one day I'll do pushups that don't bruise my knees. (Maybe not.) But here's the deal with exercising: It never stops! 90 days. Then what? Then 90 more days! And 90 more! For the rest of my life!?!?! I object. I veto this crap. I will not stand for an existence as excruciating as this. It has to end. You should be able to workout until you get your desired look and then stop, leaving your body exactly how it is. You reach your goal and then you quit, damnit. What's up with this constant maintenance crap? Who invented that?

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In honor of my favorite person in the whole wide world (who doesn't read this blog, so I don't know why I'm bothering to suck up)... I have decided to update The List.

The List was first constructed during my Junior year at Willamette. Inspired by a Friends episode ('cause really, what in life is not just a modified version of something that has been done on television), The List is something that everyone should compose and adhere to his or her front door. This particular list is not to be confused with The Shit List. Luckily, there are multiple colors of post-its.

The funny thing is I don't remember the guys that were on our original lists. I do recall that Thandie Newton was on mine (MI2, people), and -- Faith Hill on Trish's? Maybe? I know her girl was one I was not completely behind, but, hey, it was her list. I bet Tim McGraw was on her list. And some professor. Ha. She'd kill me, she really would.

Anyway. Since I can no longer name the five elite members of my short list, I have decided it is high time to update it. Maybe I'll have it laminated and put in my wallet.

I haven't decided if this is in order or not, so I'm not going to number them. Wouldn't want anyone getting a complex or anything.

*Drumroll*

#1 ~ Joe Flanigan (I know I just got done saying there was no order, but let's be reasonable. Joe is Teh Pretty and we all know it. Numbah one!)
~ Michael Vartan
~ Johnny Depp (Note: This is ONLY pirate Johny. No other form will be accepted.)
~ Timothy Olyphant (Note: Prefer cowboy Tim, but not closed to other variations.)
~ Jamie Bamber (Mmmm... Spaceboys! When exactly did I become a SciFi girl?)

This is actually the second draft of the list I constructed tonight. The first version looked more like:

~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan

But, well... then I'd have to move to Canada.

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Dear Vaughn,

I don't quite know how to say this. Only one other time in my life have I written a note like this. I was in the sixth grade and I biked to his house, dropped it on the porch and furiously biked away... but that's neither here nor there.

There really is no easy way to say this, so I'll be painfully blunt: I'm breaking up with you.

This is sudden and unexpected, I realize. I do wish things would have worked out between us. They would have, too. That's what makes this so hard. You and I were so good together -- it would have been a lifelong relationship. You, with your green-eyed hotness, feeding me grapes and fanning me as I watch old episodes of Alias. We could have stayed like that forever...

...but with the end of the series came a hole in my heart. A gaping emptiness that needed to be filled -- a feeling that your eye-candy alone would not quell. And so, I looked elsewhere.

That's when I found Stargate: Atlantis. I know, I know -- how cruel and uncharacteristic of me to turn to the SciFi channel! I didn't mean to do it, I swear to you! I don't even know which channel number on cable it is -- but the DVDs were there and I was aching! I popped one in and I lost control.

I know you're thinking that it doesn't have to end things between us -- that you can feed me grapes while I watch Atlantis... but... unfortunately, that's not the end of my betrayal.

I've met someone else. His name is John and he's an Airforce pilot with the spikey hair of a 12 year old boy and a nasty habit of going against orders. I won't sit here gush about him, to you of all people -- I know how this must hurt you. But -- he's made me realize that you and I were just fooling ourselves into believing that life couldn't get any better. It can.

And it will for you, too.

I wish you all the happiness in the world.

Love (but not as much as before because I have to save the majority of it for my Shep),
Allie

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I think the person who came up with 'click it or ticket' really had something. It's catchy and to the point. Not that it makes me put my seatbelt on... but I'm sure people less stubborn/lazy than myself have been swayed by the existence of this sign on the side of the road.

Obviously, this creative mind was on vacation when the deadline for the litter campaign came around. 'Litter and it will hurt.' ... whuh? Wth? It will hurt? Is that supposed to imply physical harm? Images of a sign uprooting itself and whacking people upside the head come to mind. A firing squad aiming at a line-up of civilians shouting and pleading, "It was only an apple core! It's biodegradable!"

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