Thursday, August 30, 2007

I Need To Start Traveling with the Doctor Right Now. Please Tell the BBC About Me the Next Time You Run into Them.

my cat, Gerard Butler, the victim of my manic roommate's latest manic cleaning spree

I mean, time and space are calling my name.

I'm not even going to be super picky about which regeneration I travel with. I'd easily go with either David Tennant or Christopher Eccleston. However under no circumstances with that buffoonish looking blond guy with curly hair and question marks on his lapels. Regardless, we'd just sizzle on screen, but of course everything would remain platonic.

I would make a great sidekick. I am less good at being in charge. For example, last weekend it was apparently my job to be in charge of writing down the address of the Lab. I did not do a good job of being in charge of writing down the address for the Lab. Luckily it was very close to BART and some familiar looking poets were lurking outside so all was not lost. Just three dollars each. And two hours each. Yawn. And BART fare each. Maybe it would have been better if we'd never found it. But then I would have been blamed for not being good at being in charge of writing down the address to the Lab without any chance to redeem myself. But I'm not used to being in charge, I would have tearfully defended myself. Nobody ever lets me be in charge! They think I will hurt myself and others with the sharp, pointy object of being in charge. I am a damsel.

Damsel or not, I can kick some ass. Aliens will have no chance against me. I will be armed with techniques I learned to protect myself while working in a home for disturbed teenage girls, all of whom were bigger than me and who hated my guts. Any alien who messes with me will be immediately subject to a level-3 restraint. No questions asked. And I won't be filling out any 'incident reports' this time around.

I have to admit that I have some ulterior motives for why I want to travel with the doctor. I am thinking that if I am really good at being his companion and kicking alien ass, the good doctor might do me a favor. Just like he let Rose go back to see her father. He would take us back in time to my kitchen and we would lurk in the dark little niche between the washer/dryer unit until I discover which one of my roommates has so callously depleted my stores of all-natural peanut butter, raspberry jam, coffee and chocolate soy milk. And which one of my manic roommates threw out Gerard Butler's collapsible cardboard cat carrier during their latest manic cleaning spree. What if my cat, Gerard Butler, has a tummy ache and has to go to the vet immediately? In such a situation there would be no time to run to PetPals in order to purchase another carrying case. My cat, Gerard Butler, would have to ride the bus with me in a duffel bag. I do not think Gerard Butler would like this. I do not think anyone would like that.

Be warned, roommates!

I am watching you. The doctor and I are watching you from the dark niche between the washer/dryer unit and the fridge. Unhand my chocolate soy milk, asshole, or it's level-3 for you.

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