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02 September 2004 @ 07:03 pm

Cleaned the bathroom today.

ME: Hey Mum, I tried the mildew-remover stuff but it didn’t go away.

MUM: How long did you put it on for? You didn’t put it on for long enough, did you? Did you?

ME: I left it for five minutes, like it SAID ON THE BOTTLE. Twice. I think it’s going to take a couple of cleans to get rid of.

MUM: Humph. Since when do you read the back of bottles?

ME: Since ever. Are you forgetting that YOU’RE the one who’s constantly bringing home diet 7UP instead of the ordinary stuff because you refuse to wear your glasses in public? And don’t talk to me about the weird yoghurt flavours…

MUM: …

ME: I reckon if you’d told me what it was sooner, I could have got rid of it.

MUM: You don’t know what mildew looks like?

ME: Well, obviously I do NOW. But not before.

MUM: *faintly* So what did you think it was?

ME: Er…really stubborn dirt?

MUM: Good Lord.

ME: *rolls eyes* Sorry, I missed the class they held on MILDEW-SPOTTING. Also, we’re out of Jif.

MUM: *mutters* Cif.

BROTHER: *sniggering* Why, because you put it all on your face?

ME: *coldly* This is spot-cream, jackass. Ooh, I cannot WAIT till you hit puberty.

MUM: Well, he’s been having the mood-swings since he was eight…

ME: So true. Following this rationally, his acne should be a sight to behold. Ha. Ha. Ha.


A Tip: You know the way they’re daily DISPOSABLE contact lenses? It seems to mean you should dispose of them, as opposed to putting them BACK in the little blister-pack and trying to wear them again the following day, because you‘re cheap and want to make them last. In addition, using the conditioning solution from (un-wearable) gas permeable lenses is not recommended on daily disposable soft lenses. Just trust me on this one. After all, gas permeable are supposed to sting. Dailies, not. So it’s twice as scary when they DO.

Sometimes, my own stupidity astounds me.

I have been spending far too much time hanging around deleterius and</span> pottersues , and here is the proof:



Dedicated to the god Sue-thor.

She approached the diamond-encrusted dais with due reverence, and pulled her silk snood further down over her smooth forehead. She was, after all, approaching three of the most hated, reviled and dangerous women in the world. The secrecy of their true mission was, by necessity, known to none outside the Sisterhood; and the perfect face it presented to the world excited envy and disgust in equal measures.

‘Greetings, Elders,’ she said formally. ‘As you have named me, so I present myself. Alanna is ready for service.’

‘Greetings, Alanna,’ the nearest Elder said with a faint grimace, shifting slightly in her seat as her knee-length black hair became trapped beneath her buttocks yet again. ‘I trust you have fulfilled your latest duty?’

‘With aplomb,’ Alanna said simply. Modesty and humility were not only undesirable traits within the Sisterhood; they were, in fact, words that had been written out of their dictionary.

‘We expected nothing less from you, Alanna,’ the blonde-haired Elder said, tossing her curls back over her amethyst coronet.

‘May I ask you a question?’ the black-haired Elder inquired.

‘But of course, Elder,’ Alanna replied politely, assuming it pertained to her latest operation, which of course was perfect in every respect.

‘Tell me, Alanna,’ the Elder grinned, ‘do you feel lucky?’

Alanna regarded her with blank incomprehension. The third and so far silent Elder clapped her hands, with a little tinkling sound of bejewelled silver bracelets clanging together. Instantly, two pink-and-gilt-robed Sisters appeared, and bowed to the Elder who had called them.

‘Take her away,’ the Elder sighed, ‘trim the damn hair, and run her a bath using the Disney Princess bubble bath. AND the Hello Kitty stuff.’

‘Disney Princess as well as Hello Kitty?’ one of the Sisters said faintly.

‘Yes, that’s what I said, you blithering idiot,’ the Elder snapped. ‘Take a good foot off her hair; it’s restricting the flow of blood to her brain. Again.’ She turned to Alanna as the Sisters gently escorted the still-sniggering Elder away. ‘I agree with Carmela. You are an exemplary Sister and an admirable addition to our cause. I would not be surprised if, one day, you ascended to the Stardust Throne.’

‘No, nor I,’ Carmela said absently, scratching her pearl-swathed neck with one inch-long, French-manicured fingernail.

‘Very well,’ the other Elder said. ‘You have made your report to the Keeper of the Records, ff.net?’

‘I have, to be sure, Elder,’ Alanna said, a trifle annoyed. What did they think she was, a novice?

‘You have earned a week’s respite, I think,’ the Elder said, with a smile that looked painful, pushing as it did at her high cheekbones, which had been known to poke people when she walked by them too fast.

‘We will send for you when the next task - of suitable ship, of course - arises,’ Carmela added, peeling one of the hearts off her thumbnail.

‘Thank you, Elders,’ Alanna replied, curtseying with a rustle of taffeta and net.

‘You are dismissed,’ Carmela said, waving her away delicately and inclining her beautiful head towards the other Elder. ‘Marilena, what were you saying before, about the chicken dinners? I just don’t think we can afford peacock every other day…’

Alanna backed out of the room, lifting her numerous skirts, underskirts, petticoats and slips, all embroidered with vine leaves, bluebirds, roses and swords and edged with Chantilly lace, above her delicate, size three slippers, the ones with the tiny emeralds along the heel. She made her way briskly down the echoing marble hall until she came to a door, which, against all probability, was entwined with blooming lilies. Smoothing down her corset bodice, which reduced her figure to that of an anorexic coat hanger, she lightly pushed the door open and entered.

The room was bathed in a soft pinky-purple glow, sourced from globes of pure light, which hovered just below the ceiling. A narrow path almost obscured by banks of flowers led to a short flight of steps. A small altar had been erected on the top, and little idols in the shape of dolls - porcelain, Rapunzel Barbie and Chucky - were arranged neatly around it, to symbolise the three Castes. Hanging on the peach-coloured wall just above the altar was a picture of the woman currently occupying the Stardust Throne, seated on said Throne wearing a towering crown made of moonbeams and a pained expression, caused by the hair that tumbled down her back and was trapped beneath her feet.

‘An occupational hazard,’ Alanna remarked to herself, throwing back her hood to reveal her auburn-with-highlights-of-honey-hue tresses and pressing her forehead to the perfumed floor to make her obeisance to her Caste Idol, Rapunzel Barbie.

When she was done, she stood up and arranged her powder-blue cape so that it fell in flattering folds around her shoulders and puffed up her ringlets. Wriggling a little - the starchy embroidery did chafe, not to mention it weighed a ton - she continued down the hall until she came to the common room, from where bursts of silvery laughter were emitting. A sign of the Elders was how their laugh graduated from ‘silvery’ to ‘throaty, like warm toffee on ice-cream’. Alanna had been secretly practising; she thought she might have got up to ‘sore-throat’ at least.

One of the two jukeboxes was playing Britney Spears, and Alanna smiled. As the song ended, she made her way over to it and slipped in a coin; at once, the strains of ‘Genie in a Bottle’ filled the room.

‘Well, look who came crawling back,’ a voice sneered. Alanna whirled around. A posse of dark haired women with red-streaks, artfully ripped dresses and a lot of silver Gothic jewellery glared back at her.

‘As you see,’ Alanna said calmly. ‘And how are you, Riley?’

‘Like you care,’ Riley said angrily. She owned the sneering voice.

‘Of course I care,’ Alanna sighed. ‘I’m a caring person, remember?’

‘Getting ideas above your station, more like,’ Riley retorted. ‘I can recall your days as a novice…you were not so high and mighty then. Just because you were Chosen by the Guns’n’Handcuffs Sisters…’

‘I’m sorry that your luck was out that day,’ Alanna snapped, finally losing her cool. ‘But you can hardly blame me for it. I would have been happy wherever I ended up. I don’t know why you don’t try and show them your potential, if you really want to become an Elite Hit-Sue on the Slasher Squad!’

‘Who said I wanted that?’ Riley shouted, thrusting her hands onto her hips.

‘You’re right,’ Alanna said quickly. ‘I can see you are imminently more suitable for the Angsty-and-Depressed-Teen!Sue Team. Let me commend you on your diligence regarding staying in character. But if you’ll excuse me…’ She smiled brilliantly and edged away, as Riley puffed herself up for another shouting match. Before she could say anything, Alanna had edged out of the door.

Riley’s screams of rage were drowned by the thumping sound of Good Charlotte from the other jukebox.

Alanna made a face, and then hurriedly smoothed it away. Although she frequently went undercover as a DADA teacher, it was not as if she wanted - or indeed needed - real wrinkles. Smiling in a way that did not crinkle up her eyes, she returned to the bedroom she shared with another Sister of the Leather and Libraries sub-division. As long as they did not participate in the long-standing feud between slashers and non-slashers in terms of the quality of their work (non-slashers, like Arts students, tended not to work as hard, and it showed) they got along fine.

She sighed and sank gracefully onto her bed, crossing her slim ankles. She fished the Slytherin pennant from her pocket and added it to her collection; one day she hoped for the challenge of playing a Hufflepuff, but as yet the opportunity had not arisen. Her latest affair with Snape, as she guided him in guiding Harry and Draco to yet another unlikely fairytale ending, had been particularly satisfactory. The more OOC she could force them to become, the higher the Elder’s rating of her report would be, and so her standing would be increased yet again in their eyes.

Alanna smoothed a silver-backed brush through her hair, humming gently. Poor Riley! The Angst Team was the most disregarded of the whole Sisterhood. She did not blame her for being bitter, but it was a vicious circle; even as Riley worked her way to making vinegar look like cherry soda, she became more and more appropriate for her role.

Yet she could not waste time worrying over Riley. The Angst Team was just as essential as any other part of the Sisterhood, even if it was not as high profile as the others, and even if their uniform wasn’t as nice. Subverting their natural love for pink was the hardest part of initiation into the Angst Team, or so Alanna had heard.

Deciding to leave reading over her copious notes for the night, Alanna instead did her relaxing, stretching, toning and shaping exercises, still attired in her ball gown from the Hogwarts Mid-Term Fancy-Dress Ball, which she had been attending when her mission was recalled. Their training had taught them to be ready to perform beauty routines in the most straitened of circumstances, and practice was always to be desired.

The small opal fireplace flared briefly, as the flames from her latest report started arriving. Alanna calmly put them out with her fire extinguisher. Having one of her own was a great honour - only the very best in the Sisterhood required one on a regular basis.

The full moon - it was always a full moon here - rose and lit the room as Alanna lay down to sleep. It was a hard job, Sueing the world, but someone had to do it.

A week later she stood, once again, before the Elders. Suzeahn’s black hair was shorter, and she often regarded it in bemusement when she thought no one was looking.

‘Your mission, should you choose to accept it,’ Marilena intoned, ‘is to return to Hogwarts. For this operation, your disguise will be an American transfer student from California. You attended the Salem Institute before Voldemort killed your family, leaving you destitute apart from your magical psychic cat,

who lays golden eggs. You are to infiltrate the trio, become Hermione’s best friend and give her a KEWL&HAWT! TM makeover. You will lend a sympathetic ear to Hermione and Ron when they discover Harry is gay, and of course you have tenure to do whatever it takes to make Draco undergo a complete personality u-turn and fall in twu luv with Harry. Sister Alanna, what is your reply?’

‘I accept,’ Alanna said, her eyes shining. Her American accent was a thing of beauty and a joy forever.

‘Very good,’ Marilena said curtly. ‘Remember to always keep in touch with your Inner Slasher. And wear blusher.’

‘May the Sue be with you,’ Carmela said, smiling vacantly.

Alanna curtseyed and left, hearing Marilena say behind her, ‘I found a place where they sell peacocks at knock-down prices…’

She passed one of her old friends, on her way in. Arienella had been transferred to the LotR department a few months before.

‘Here’s hoping I get to be an Elf Princess again!’ she said breathily, holding up crossed fingers, which were encircled with copies of Galadriel’s Ring of Power.

Alanna wished her luck and continued on her way.

She had some major packing to do.

As she ascended the crystal staircase, she passed beneath the leagues-high banner of the (affiliated) Sue Academy and Sue Sisterhood. She had seen it so many times she hardly noticed it any longer, but today she glanced up and smiled. It gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, to know of the good she was doing for the world.

High above her, wrought in golden letters on a sky-blue ground, were the curlicued words:




Scrubs is, probably, my favourite television programme (who couldn’t love and admire the extreme arseHoliness of Perry Cox?) but I had reason to rue it the other night, when watching it with my father.

It is, bien sur, a medical comedy, and that particular episode there was a story-line about saving lives, quite technical stuff. And this conversation:

DAD:…You could do that.

ME: …

DAD: All that stuff, saving lives…you could be a doctor like Scrubs.

ME: Scrubs isn’t actually, like, a person, you know.

This unfortunately failed to distract him and he continued on in this vein for some time.

Just had a visit from my aunt, with a cheque for fifty euro. Results dosh. Sweet. My cousin Amy has chickenpox, and Bernie rang the doctor to see if she should get antibiotics for her. The following chaos ensued.

BERNIE: *on phone*…Well, they’re quite bad, especially, you know, in her private parts.

DOCTOR: Yes, that’ll be where it hits worst; there and her back passage.

AMY: Mam! Do I have a passage in my back?!

MIKEY (her brother): No, stupid, she means your hole!

BERNIE: Mikey!

MIKEY: Look, she doesn’t know what her back passage is. I’m just making it simpler for her.

BERNIE: *facepalm*

She informed me she wants me to do medicine, as she’s sick of shelling out forty-five euro for a doctor’s visit when she could be getting it for free.

What is this, some sort of conspiracy?!?

Current Mood: distresseddistressed
Current Music: 'So Much For My Happy Ending,' Avril Lavigne
The Light Snarktasticsnarkophagus on September 2nd, 2004 11:37 am (UTC)

The background conversation to do with pheasants is absolute gold. I don't know why, out of all of it, that's what's sticking in my mind.

I don't think I'll ever again be able to look at a pheasant in the same way...
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on September 2nd, 2004 01:30 pm (UTC)
I am glad that, in some small way, I changed the world.

No idea what it came from, but it's the sort of thing I thought Sues would eat. :)
gabbysun on September 2nd, 2004 02:40 pm (UTC)
Best Mary Sue ever. *love*
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on September 2nd, 2004 03:55 pm (UTC)
Why shank you, m'dear. Was on a crazy James Bond trip (even though I hate James Bond with a raving passion. Go figure.)
gabbysun on September 3rd, 2004 04:18 pm (UTC)


I've only ever seen one James Bond movie, and it was...okay. I think it was the one with that Asian girl. Yeah. xD
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on September 3rd, 2004 04:31 pm (UTC)
I've seen 'Tomorrow Never Dies' several times. Network tv owns it and they luffs it, dear.

'Shank' - mangled 'thanks'. From that Scottish dude who played it....;)
gabbysun on September 3rd, 2004 04:38 pm (UTC)
Ohhhh...Kay! I had no idea, so...yeah. I'm not a big TV fan, to be honest. No, for I am a computer junkie. *le sigh*

every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on September 3rd, 2004 04:48 pm (UTC)
I watch about an hour a month, max. Just Scrubs, really.

Now if they took away my *computer*, I really would die. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
gabbysun on September 3rd, 2004 05:22 pm (UTC)
Dude, they need groups for these things.

*stands up, clutching cocoa* "Hello, my name is Gabrielle and I'm a computer junkie."
(no subject) - scoradh on September 4th, 2004 04:16 pm (UTC) (Expand)
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illmantrim on September 2nd, 2004 02:58 pm (UTC)
waves randomly sent here by gabbysun

loves the story!
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on September 2nd, 2004 03:54 pm (UTC)
Yo! And also, 'Hello little friend'. (?) V. welcome. Please steal again!
Earth-Bound Misfit: Vimessmithy161 on September 3rd, 2004 03:42 am (UTC)
Yay for Scrubs! it rocks.

Where in the world are you, incidentally? Euroes? Speaking English? Using Jiff but spelling it wrong?

And heehee at your brother ^_^
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on September 3rd, 2004 01:12 pm (UTC)
My brother is a sub-human spawn of the Cthulhu, but yeah, we love him neways.

I'm in Ireland, also known as the Isle of Saints and Scholars, personally referred to by me as one of the world's greatest shitholes. (And I am serious. People seem to think I'm joking! But the roads are a disgrace, I tells ya.)

Don't tell anyone...but I have a shrine to Dr Cox...
(Anonymous) on September 4th, 2004 12:13 pm (UTC)
in ireland "jiff" is CIF!!!!!!!!!!!!!
every Starbucks should have a polar bearscoradh on September 4th, 2004 04:34 pm (UTC)
Yeah, I know!

I just think it's a stupid name, tha's all.

(Apparently 'Jif' is a swearword in some European countries. Wish I knew where...:>)