I'm still getting far more exercised than I ought to about Weiss Kreuz fanfiction. I think I'm going to write something like this rant I wrote in my previous incarnation as as a rabid Angel Sanctuary fangirl just to get it all off my chest and spare anyone who reads this thing from any more insane, inane Livejournal-bound rambling on about Weiss fanfic conventions. I mean, you people really don't want to know exactly why I'm getting pissy about fanon portrayals of the Weiss boys, do you? Thought not.

Supplementary weird things continue to happen to me. Get this morning:

I was waiting at the bus stop to catch the Infamous 68 Bus into college when a car containing one of my coursemates pulls up next to the stop. She recognizes me for all we don't talk much (I admit it: I'm a rather distinctive person, or rather I have a rather distinctive dress sense - I'm the lone Goth Chick in my class, so not being recognized isn't really a problem I have), and offered me a lift in. I accepted gratefully because anything's better than the Infamous 68 Bus or, worse, it's inbred Croydon-bound country cousin, the Dreaded 468 - I was running a little late as it was, turning her down when she'd stopped just to offer me a lift might have been rude, and more to the point I wanted to.

Anyway. I was expecting us to follow the 68 bus route in. It's pretty quick - traveling it with my father we've made it into Elephant in about 20 minutes, if the traffic's favorable. He chose to go via Brixton, which at first seemed a sensible move - no getting snarled up by Brockwell Park, in the nightmare that is the Black Hole of Camberwell or down the Walworth Road - and yet, ah, but and yet...

Put it this way, I've lived in London almost two years and I have yet to hear of any direct route to Elephant and Castle which goes via Millbank. It's on the other side of the Thames - but it's difficult to advise on directions when you're getting a lift from a guy with GPS. Misprogrammed GPS, admittedly, but GPS all the same.

It was while we were driving past the Tate Gallery - the Tate Gallery, en route to Elephant and Castle? - that we got pulled over by a group of Community Support Officers (hobby policemen) working with two officers from the Met (genuine policemen). Yes, we got stopped and searched on the way to work in what was explained as an operation which was hoping to catch terrorists. Gosh. This was a little exciting, a little worrying and a lot annoying, because it very nearly made us late for college - which would have been bad because today's lecture, on the health needs of prisoners, was actually interesting - and we shouldn't have been anywhere near Millbank anyway, which really made for Double The Fun.

And, being Little Ms Trendy Liberal, I wondered - was this because my driver and college coursemate were having the temerity to Drive Whilst Black? The other guys we saw who had been pulled over looked French. And I, of course, hardly looked like a nice normal individual either. Maybe they thought we looked like terrorists or something, or suspected that we didn't vote Labour at the last election? Damnation, it was annoying. Plus I didn't want to get out of the car, because it was cold. Naturally enough, given that I'm posting this now and not languishing in a cell in Paddington Green police station, the police didn't find anything, though they did tease the driver about leaving the price tag on one of his rucksacks.

With any luck my journey home, even with the Infamous 68 or Dreaded 468 buses, will prove a little more straightforward.

( the curious film quiz... )

Finally: Why in the Hell won't my landlady's son buy his own damn monitor, or at least use the computer downstairs?!? The screen went Walkies again last night, much to my vexation. It's not like I want to stop him using the Internet or anything, but why would it be so hard for him to use the downstairs PC? It's his computer which doesn't have a screen, not my landlady's. I'd bring my own screen down every time I wanted to use it but because I don't have moderator priveliges on that computer (another advancement courtesy of the son) I couldn't install the drivers I'd need - and I doubt it'd fit on the table anyway. This is just getting stupid now. I need that computer. I need my Internet fix - I also need it so I can work on my freaking presentation. How hard would it be for him to, you know, actually buy a monitor?

Oh, and just to drive the stupidity home - he sells computers.