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moonlettuceI went to Newcastle today. I was pretty sure when I left the house that this was going to be a bad decision, considering I'd woken up with a headache, and had it been a normal day I would have just rolled over and gone back to sleep. But this was no normal day. This was... The Comic Mart! And damn it, it was sending out its siren call, drawing all geeks and fanboys around it to their doom.
So, I dragged my sorry arse out of bed and dragged myself to Newcastle with the intention ofbuying CSI: Miami trading cards making sure I wasn't missing that one perfect buy that I would kick myself for for the rest of my life if I wasn't there to get it. After coming away with buying CSI: Miami trading cards (Horatio/Speed isn't becoming a mini otp of mine, honest.) a few choice items, I figured I'd go get my comic order from Forbidden Planet and come home. (Also, is it just me who insists of leaving the 'e' out of planet when I type it? Thus making the shop Forbidden Plant, which implies it sells a very different type of crack than the one it actually does. Although, to be honest, if it did sell that type of crack, I'd probably actually spend less money in there.)
Anyway, I'm aimlessly wandering through the centre of town, when I notice something. There was a few microphones and speakers set up outside Virgin and people milling around with those 'Do you want to be saved?' leaflets. Now, the last time this happened, I was accosted by a young man who just could believe that I didn't want one of his nice shiny leaflets. However, this time, luck was with me. Either they hadn't yet set up properly, or they were taking a break, but either way they weren't speaking or trying to stop people. They were, in fact, drinking coffee. Even worse, they were drinking over-priced coffee that small Guatemalan children had plucked from the ground with their tiny fingers for the grand price of 2p a pound. But, hey, considering I've just spent money on credit card sized pieces of cardboard with pictures of pretty men on them, I can't really be complaining here.
So, I think 'lucky escape' and continue on my merry way. And then, as I'm walking through Monument Mall, I hear it; the sound to freeze the blood in your veins and hope that you're experiencing an auditory hallucination from the really good crack; possibly the stuff they sell at Forbidden Plant. I heard... The Singing.
And, lo!, as I walk out of Monument Mall there it is. Set up around Grey's Monument is a stage and sound system. And there are people singing, and people signing other people up to something or other, and yet more people handing out pamphlets. Unfortunately, to get to where I wanted to be I had to walk through the, well, I'm tempted to say 'thronging crowd', but somehow that just doesn't invoke the image I want it to. Hmmm... we'll just stick with 'crowd'. Maybe they can throng later. So, anyway, I walk through the crowd, trying not to be too horrified at the sight of elderly ladies waving balloons in the air and dancing to Christian gospel rock. (And, no, that sort of thing shouldn't happen in Newcastle. At least not where I can see it.) And then they pounce.
People.
With pamphlets.
Trying to get me to take them.
(Er, take the pamphlets, not take the people. Although, if I had been able to take the people they could have at least made me some money from the black market slave trade.)
Now, the last time I looked I didn't have 'Heathen: please try to convert me' tattooed on my forehead (I've got the Watchers' symbol one shoulder, the Gangrel clan logo on the other, a stylised black butterfly and red rose on my right leg and 'Will whore for David Hewlett' on my left butt cheek, but nothing on my forehead), but maybe that's changed. Maybe a chorus of heavenly angels came down to me last night and got the needles and ink out. Maybe it's written in invisible Enochian, to be seen only by the truly Holy, the converted and the occasional travelling salesman. Whatever it is, these people just wouldn't leave me alone.
The first few times they got "No, thanks." That soon changed to "Go away, you're making the baby Jesus cry," interspersed with "God hates you for making my headache worse." Don't these people learn? A note: If I didn't take the leaflet off the first six people who asked me, then it's highly unlikely I'm going to take it off you. You wanna sing and pray and praise and have joyous fun with your God, then go for it. Just leave me out of it, please. 'Kay?
After managing to fight off their advances (*eyes flist* Not *those* kind of advances. Perverts.) I eventually break through on the other side. Freedom! Yay! And the relief of The Singing fading into the background as I walk down to Forbidden Planet. (Damn! Against with the missing 'e'. *goes back to fix*)
*sigh*
I knew I should have just gone back to sleep this morning.But I have CSI: Miami trading cards! Horatio/Speed, yay!
So, I dragged my sorry arse out of bed and dragged myself to Newcastle with the intention of
Anyway, I'm aimlessly wandering through the centre of town, when I notice something. There was a few microphones and speakers set up outside Virgin and people milling around with those 'Do you want to be saved?' leaflets. Now, the last time this happened, I was accosted by a young man who just could believe that I didn't want one of his nice shiny leaflets. However, this time, luck was with me. Either they hadn't yet set up properly, or they were taking a break, but either way they weren't speaking or trying to stop people. They were, in fact, drinking coffee. Even worse, they were drinking over-priced coffee that small Guatemalan children had plucked from the ground with their tiny fingers for the grand price of 2p a pound. But, hey, considering I've just spent money on credit card sized pieces of cardboard with pictures of pretty men on them, I can't really be complaining here.
So, I think 'lucky escape' and continue on my merry way. And then, as I'm walking through Monument Mall, I hear it; the sound to freeze the blood in your veins and hope that you're experiencing an auditory hallucination from the really good crack; possibly the stuff they sell at Forbidden Plant. I heard... The Singing.
And, lo!, as I walk out of Monument Mall there it is. Set up around Grey's Monument is a stage and sound system. And there are people singing, and people signing other people up to something or other, and yet more people handing out pamphlets. Unfortunately, to get to where I wanted to be I had to walk through the, well, I'm tempted to say 'thronging crowd', but somehow that just doesn't invoke the image I want it to. Hmmm... we'll just stick with 'crowd'. Maybe they can throng later. So, anyway, I walk through the crowd, trying not to be too horrified at the sight of elderly ladies waving balloons in the air and dancing to Christian gospel rock. (And, no, that sort of thing shouldn't happen in Newcastle. At least not where I can see it.) And then they pounce.
People.
With pamphlets.
Trying to get me to take them.
(Er, take the pamphlets, not take the people. Although, if I had been able to take the people they could have at least made me some money from the black market slave trade.)
Now, the last time I looked I didn't have 'Heathen: please try to convert me' tattooed on my forehead (I've got the Watchers' symbol one shoulder, the Gangrel clan logo on the other, a stylised black butterfly and red rose on my right leg and 'Will whore for David Hewlett' on my left butt cheek, but nothing on my forehead), but maybe that's changed. Maybe a chorus of heavenly angels came down to me last night and got the needles and ink out. Maybe it's written in invisible Enochian, to be seen only by the truly Holy, the converted and the occasional travelling salesman. Whatever it is, these people just wouldn't leave me alone.
The first few times they got "No, thanks." That soon changed to "Go away, you're making the baby Jesus cry," interspersed with "God hates you for making my headache worse." Don't these people learn? A note: If I didn't take the leaflet off the first six people who asked me, then it's highly unlikely I'm going to take it off you. You wanna sing and pray and praise and have joyous fun with your God, then go for it. Just leave me out of it, please. 'Kay?
After managing to fight off their advances (*eyes flist* Not *those* kind of advances. Perverts.) I eventually break through on the other side. Freedom! Yay! And the relief of The Singing fading into the background as I walk down to Forbidden Planet. (Damn! Against with the missing 'e'. *goes back to fix*)
*sigh*
I knew I should have just gone back to sleep this morning.
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no subject
Date: 2005-04-09 10:03 pm (UTC)*smirk*
I do like getting my own back. And if they ASK for it, they can't complain.
As my userinfo says, 'even the devil can quote scripture to serve his own needs'. Which, if they turned around and thought about it... *eg*
We pet you. Not sure which we, but there's definitely a plural in there somewhere.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-10 10:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-09 10:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-10 10:45 pm (UTC)11. Thou shalt read the porn.
12. Thou shalt not buy Daniel O'Donnell albums
13. Thou shalt reduce the cost of Metro tickets
Hee! I could have some fun as the second coming...
no subject
Date: 2005-04-10 10:46 pm (UTC)Also, if we can just imagine that sentence is spelled correctly, I'd appreciate it ;-)
no subject
Date: 2005-04-09 11:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-10 10:46 pm (UTC)*g*