In order to explain this post's conversations, I have to give a little information to get you up to speed. The Fleetch finished up work about a month ago and since then has apparently done her best to fuse her body to the fibres of our couch by spending as much time as humanly possible on it. I was beginning to question whether she'd ever had legs at all, since it was so long since I'd seen them.
In any case, she'd been reading a lot of fanfiction, sometimes repeating the best/worst (these terms are interchangable where fanfiction is concerned) parts out loud to me as I play video games. These nights have been possibly the most hilarious nights of my life. I have heard eyes described as "orbs" and boobs described as "globes" more times than I care to remember. I have heard many ridiculous euphemisms for sex, and many farcical situations have been described to me ("Okay, so in this one, Luna is Hermione's psychologist-" "No. Stop right there.") in which everyone is equally satisfied with the performance (rarely true), people orgasm simultaneously with multiple other characters (a level of personal time management and organisation that impresses me more than anything), and occasionally people frolic with animals (hey, whatever floats your otter-shaped boat *wink*).
Fleetch: (giggling) Listen to this one- "In Hermione's stomach, the butterflies were wailing."
Fleetch: "Wailing", dude. The butterflies were "wailing".
Me: (button mashing) Do butterflies have throats?
Fleetch: I'm pretty sure they aren't capable of howling.
Me: That's such a weird choice of word.
Fleetch: It would have been better if the author had meant "whaling".
Me: (pausing my game) I'm sorry, but "the butterflies in Hermione's stomach were whaling" is not a less confusing sentence.
Fleetch: Just imagine it. "Stupid whales, taking up all the mass. We weigh like a gram! Do you know how that makes us feel? UNDERAPPRECIATED! Die, large sea mammals, die! Man the harpoons, butterfly brethren!"
Me: Huh. I guess no one expects the butterflies. Do they wail while they whale?
Fleetch: Of course they do.
Me: (unpausing) Glad we sorted that out. Oh, hey, you know what we should read? My Immortal, the worst fanfic ever written.
Fleetch: I think I tried to read that once.
We found an audio version on YouTube (link here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4SCYOvh9zA for those of you brave enough to take this titan on) and listened to the first ten chapters in hysterics.
Fleetch: Dark-apostrophe-ness! That's what I'm calling my first child. "Dark'ness Enoby Fleetcherella".
Me: He or she may have a hard time writing that on his or her nursery school paintings.
Fleetch: I can't believe this story. Seriously. "It was snowing and raining at the same time". Bullshit! That doesn't happen.
Me: It does in Emo Angst Land. Snowing AND raining! When one weather condition isn't gothic enough!
Fleetch: You know what my favourite part was?
Me: When Dumbledore, totally in character, yelled "what are you doing, you motherfuckers?"
Fleetch: You know me so well.
That might have been the end of it (since we stopped listening in order to preserve what sanity we had left) except for one thing. As you probably know from the news, the weather here in Scotland has been appalling over the past few days (hashtag #hurricanebawbag in case anyone is interested). Last night, while the Fleetch and I were watching tv, the streetlight outside our window flickered. I glanced up just in time to see what was unmistakably both snow and rain falling at the same time.
Me: (in horror) Fleetch! No!
Fleetch: I saw it too! Oh god, what have we done?!
Me: I feel so ashamed. We mocked that for ages and it turns out we are meterologically ignorant.
Fleetch:. ... Screw it. That story was stupid. We're still smart. Right?
Me: ...Um. Sure.