Making you do the wacky

First of all, casirafics did a commentary on Mapmakers! I die. Really, I die. The fic is a remix of my own story Making Moony Laugh, but so much better. I actually think I would have written MML very differently now - at the time, I wrote it in rather special circumstances. I'd been in the online fandom for about two months, hardly any time at all, before OotP came out, and a few days after that, I flew out to spend a quiet and internet-less summer in the US. Cue two weeks of writing in stolen moments (can't have my socially conservative relations discovering what I do in my spare time), scribbling it all down haphazardly without the benefit of editing and throwing the whole thing together in something of a hurry.

When I got home, I typed it up, got it briefly betaed and sent it in for the Sirius/Remus FQF. Reading Casira's commentary, I'm reminded of something I'd totally forgotten - namely, I didn't come up with the original idea for the story. "Attempted suicide" was the FQF prompt, and I had this weird urge to use Fred as my POV character. The rest, as they say, is history. The remix is absolutely stellar and the commentary has made my day. It has made me newly aware of the failings of MML, but the remix fic all by itself did that. At least I never have to think about revisiting that particular fic - it's been done to perfection and there's no need to worry.

On which note, my remix fic for this year is done, done, done. Sent it off yesterday with scarcely a whimper. I've wondered about writing HP fic again, actually; Love Is Not Love is the last one I really took time over, and is probably my favourite fic out of the ones I've written. Actually, my birthday fic for hathy_col last year was HP-fic, and set on Remus's birthday which I did not have a date for but now do. Our dear werewolf was born on March 10th. Colleen was born on August 11th. I still haven't finished the fic. Go figure.

And now let's talk about totally unrelated subjects. For example, Biology module eight, Behaviour and Populations, has reached the point entitled Patterns of Human Growth. Specifically, the human ageing process. Rice-Oxley wants to skip over it quickly because, as she complains, it's more relevant for her than it is for us. To take her mind off it, we gave her a twenty-second birthday party.

Looking back, the logic of this escapes me.

Anyway. We got her some Munchies, biscuits, some cake and several balloons with Fidan-scrawled marker pen messages on them:

"Happy birthday!"

"Desdakala Rice-Oxley..." (in Greek script, thankyouverymuch Fidan)

"This is the last time..." (double meaning; yay for Keane)

Finally, my personal favourite: "I'm going to do sex on Wednesday..."

And yes, that would be the one that came adrift down the corridor and ended up in front of the head's office. Sigh. It is actually her birthday on Thursday, but no-one has yet found out how old she is.

Nothing really happened to top that - I made a thorough mess of a thermodynamics mock by proving mathematically that the reduction of iron (II) oxide with coke is unfeasible at any temperature - until later in the afternoon, when I decided I'd be a nice person for once and help someone out. Angela, who is someone I know slightly and am somewhat amused by, asked if she could email me her coursework to hand in (she's on an open day tomorrow). I agreed, and scribbled my email address on a piece of paper.

She looked at it. "Gmail?"

I nodded slowly.

"Does the G stand for..."

"Google mail!" I yelled out, before she could say anything else, and tried not to actually die from suppressed laughter. As she said later, her life is falling apart ("To great comic effect," I said solemnly in answer to that) and I wasn't helping by laughing at her, but really. Open big mouth, insert even bigger foot.

And to finish off what was already becoming a weirder day than usual (is my life weirder than other people's? I've never been quite sure) I was sitting at Blundellsands station minding my own business when one of the Merchants' boys came up and said, "This is going to sound weird..."

I raised my eyebrows at him.

"But my mate, he really likes you, and this is weird, isn't it this is weird but he really likes you, and, well."

I had this horrible urge to just burst into hysterical laughter and not stop for hours. "Tell him I'm flattered, but I've got a girlfriend."

He went off and told his friends this. At which point they all burst into hysterics and tried in vain not to roll around the platform.

The train came then, and Laura (one of the chemgeeks) was there so I had someone to tell and giggle about it. I think this is the same one who tried to ask me to the Christmas party.

Boys are funny. Hee.