The answer is this.
It reminded my of Daisy Steiner in
Spaced's deep fear that mice and spiders could cross-breed into a horrible fusion species. Photoshop is the new Dr. Frankenstein, with less frame narrative and awkward nautical gay tension.
But that's not what this entry is about, my fair readers! Other than two (2) facebook messages I have to write (Andrew of the Bay Area and Phillipa of Johannesburg, YOU SHALL NOT GO UNANSWERED!), I have only one message left in my gmail inbox.
Consider that this morning there were over 350!
And yet the last message presents a special difficulty, for it is 1) six months old, and 2) from Rob 'the Defenestrator' Shearman. I have NO IDEA how he chanced across my humble fanfic blog and commented on a review of a BFA. It was not by virtue of anything I did to earn it. Rob Shearman is like Calvanist predestination: he just happens to you, it's not even about the good works.
Given that I flailed and didn't respond to him immediately and then got deathly ill, I can't just swan in all belated-like, make googly eyes, and stammer out that I want to have like a million of his babies with no regard for my personal health concerns because carrying on his family name is just that important to me. This lacks something in the way of subtlety.
Instead, I have a three step program for thanking him and saying hello without humiliating myself.
Step One:
We can have lots of fun! Do not post any embarrassing fanfic for a few days. Write it after a long dry-spell, sure. Send it to beta, naturally. Just don't
post the stuff. Just play it cool, boys. Real cool.
Step Two:
There's so much we can do! Write up reviews of recently watched serials or the BFAs that carried me through 1,400 pages of copying for yet another deposition on loan fraud.* Sound erudite. Create the illusion that I am the sort of person who regularly says pertinent things in an amusing manner, rather than some bumbling American chick who should get back to Trek fandom where her ilk belong.
Step Three: Comment on Shearman's comment.
Step Four: Profit!
This is much like My Awesomegood Plan To Use the Neighbor's Trampoline, actually. At twenty three I am too old to request a bounce and preserve my dignity. The radio keeps speaking of a bar which is rather enthused about its Girls on Trampolines schtick, but I suspect this does not mean they will let me, as a girl, use the trampoline, or if they did that the random male patrons of the bar would not see this an a disturbing light. Thus: Doctor and Doctor Koopman's childrens' Trampoline.**
I am subtly convincing my younger siblings, who are less than enthused, that they desire nothing more in this world than to bounce on that trampoline. Eventually they will break down and ask the young Koopmans, and I, long-suffering baby-sitter, will accompany them, and even be such a good sport about this silly bouncing. Yes. Yeeeeees.***
* Seriously, if any of you are committing loan fraud, you should stop. Not so much because its illegal and less than victimless as because I'm really bored of it. I long for a medical malpractice or something, but nooo, it's doc prep fees this, forgery that, repos-ing the llama you put down as collateral without properly grooming it. Tiresome.
** Their name seems like they're the descendants of a deposed King Koopa, trying to keep a low profile. Like Louis Alphonse, Duke of Anjou (born in 1974), considered to be the head of the French Royal House by legitimists who consider the renunciation of Philip V of Spain as invalid. They call him Prince Louis de Bourbon, and accord him the title duc d'Anjou (Duke of Anjou). As king, he would be Louis XX of France. You know, like that. But with King Koopa.
*** Pretty much this is representative of all my plans.
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