WTFH

Hello and good evening, Fandom, on this, the last day of the shortest month of the year, to which I can only say "Thank God," as it's certainly not been a good month for many of us. Myself included. I choose to follow Parker's illustrious example and blame the greeting card industry. This is Lieutenant Archie Kennedy, and to hell with Royal Navy Radio tonight -- this is Fandom's very own Pirate Radio, and Barbossa, this tot of rum is for you. I've had enough by now to subject you all to a tale of my own woes if I don't get to the point, so let's leap right into . . .

Schooling

Today in Advanced Criminal Justice, we discussed incompetence, leniency, and fish. No, I'm not making that up. Yes, in conjunction. Speaking of conjunctions, there were languages midterms for Classics and Foreign Literature, while Professor Chaucer's last poetry class learned about Emily Dickinson and watched a film about a society of dead poets, which would have sounded macabre and impossible to me before I came to this school. Now, it actually makes sense out of context. The Chemistry class's discussion of their upcoming body farm trip, on the other hand, still makes no sense and sounds macabre.

Campaigning was handled by Angel today, and discussed event planning. Whether or not the arranged guest speaker for Thursday's class was an event planned in the manner discussed in class will remain to be seen. There were no guest speakers in Speech classes today, where the non-praiseworthy was praised and the subject of reciprocity was raised.

. . . no, I'm not in Poetry class. Had I been, I would have known better than to say that.

Introduction to Anthropology commenced with a unit about Egypt. Business Law and HR Management took midterm exams, and midterm reviewing was the order of business in Advanced Journalism. Unless you were John-the-human-menagerie-Crichton, who seems to have a nautical bent of sorts, as today he was a seahorse. I say, John, if you ever meet an evil pilot fish, do let me know? Sociology of Sex Cultures commenced work on their midterm projects, about which I have no details so you can come to your own conclusions about that.

Western Civilisation discussed more about the Roman Empire, and to my sorrow I have discovered no evidence of yet that the emperor was ever a small dog. History of Medieval England discussed Simon de Montfort and the beginnings of representative government, and I'm sure some of you have eyes glazing over right now at those multisyllabic words. A word of advice for those of you so afflicted: you may want to steer clear of the upcoming play. Or at least plug your ears. No offense to most of you. I'm really only addressing one person here.

Studio Art had a midterm as well today, but History of Art did not fare so well and was subjected to more demented nun videos. Finally on the academic front, General Physical Conditioning played, er, Frisbee for clothing.

The library was surprisingly quiet today, or as quiet as the library ever gets. Unless you were Zero, whose nap was interrupted in a sticky sort of way, though an entirely different kind of sticky from the manual sort which was Janet's predicament, as she discussed with Angela. Rory was tired, a situation I'm sure many of us shared, and Parker was talking about powers. What sort of powers? I have no idea.

Happenings in the Wardroom and the Chain of Command

Not much activity in the mess hall today, unless you were Vala and . . . oh. Cameron. Yes. Well. Moving on.

At Professor Chaucer's last office hours, he was visited by Angela, Kiki, and Phoebe. Is that all? Honestly, people. Professor Cregg was sadly unvisited, as was Dean Zordon, but as his pastimes seem to be a touch disturbing, I can't say I blame anyone for avoiding him.

And there has been a changing of the guard, my fellow Fandom residents: Acting Principal Finn is stepping down, and the lovely and capable Dean Washburn has been promoted to take his place. My most hearty congratulations to you, Principal Washburn! Of course, no sooner did she settle into her new office than she was visited by D'Anna Biers.

Phoebe opened the TA lounge today, and was cute with Cole, as my notes say. And just to be alliterative, Blair was bouncy with Bel, who was later talking about switching sides with Parker and Faithful, while Paige "emoed" at Phoebe, as my notes say. Look, I'll not bother to translate that into something that makes sense to me. There was discussion of dreams between Bel and Phoebe, plotting of paisley revenge -- all right, so I couldn't come up with a p-word for revenge -- between Phoebe and Kiki.

In the Crew Berths and Sickbay (Because Sometimes I Can't Tell The Difference, With You Lot)

Parker sent out an email to the I-Club, whatever that is.

*rustling papers* Oh, dear God. Bear with me, folks, my notes here are rather chaotic. Good Lord, who wrote these? They're frightening. So any context that I may be missing is entirely not my fault.

Let's see here: Rory got a phone call in the wee sma's, which I hope turned out better for her than the one phone call I've ever made in my life. Also at an obscenely early hour, Kawalsky and -- *sighs* -- Cameron discussed the robots from yesterday's Shop class, Phoebe and Bel woke up together, and Veronica was contemplative. Also contemplative, perhaps, was Nadia. Which is somewhat to be expected after one has a strange dream, really.

On the correspondence front, Xander, Crichton in his pre-seahorse form, and Blair sent email, as did . . . *grumbles* Jaye, who also made phone calls. I am never making a phone call again, myself. Ever.

Parker was talking to Sam. Maia was talking to her fish, in which case I hope Victor is kind enough to stay away from her room, as he was apparently turned into a cat by Paige, and later wandering about looking for Walter.

And because I can never avoid this sort of thing, Cally and Anders were -- I can't quite read this -- sex in stirrups? *furious paper rustling* Dear God in Heaven, what?

Oh. *coughs* Watching television. Yes. Very funny, anonymous source. You'll be paying for my next cask of rum when I find out who you are.

Professor Cregg received presents of the literary and botanical kinds, Lana and Maia worked out in the gym which was oddly unfrequented by the rest of you insane exercise-crazed people today, and several survivors of yesterday's Shop class compared war wounds on the third floor: Pippi, Walter, Victor, and Nadia, to be specific. Logan Echolls avoided the Shop chaos, but seemed to have some chaos of his own in the form of being a magnet for clumsy people today. Which could or could not be literal, like Bridge's animal magnetism. I imagine with people it would be much more unwieldy, though.

In the school clinic, Marty visited Doctor Pevensie. At the town clinic, Nadia met Bel's doppelganger, Doctor Troy, Alanna met Doctor Lambert, and Agatha had her unusual pigmentation problem checked on.

On Shore Leave

I have no idea why Paul Anka, whoever he is, is such a bad thing, but it seems his music didn't make such a wonderful impression at Empire Records today. Orlin helped take care of that little problem though, and later Angela dropped by to visit Marty.

*papers rustling* Good Lord. Orlin certainly is everywhere, isn't he? At the Perk (where Professor Chaucer and Kiki were having lunch today, and Phoebe visited Professor Cregg), bumping into Logan . . . at Sparky Repairs with Agatha . . . at All and Sundries looking for paint . . . I'm tired just thinking about it.

Cafe Fina and Caritas were quiet today. Not so much was the Fourth Sin, where Jarod got a phone call.

And -- ladies and gentlemen, Aeryn Sun has returned to town! She received medical assistance from Zhaan at Sanctity, which may or may not have anything to do with Serenity Cove being closed off by the troopers. I'm not sure, ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry. She was, however, outside the dorms with John tonight, so obviously he's no longer a seahorse. Which is, perhaps, fortunate for the both of them.

I'm pleased to be ending tonight's broadcast on a happy note. Because some of us have to have one, and please God, it had better not involve stirrups. Oh, my God. I need more rum now. And so, my dear fellow citizens of Fandom, this is Archie Kennedy signing off, wishing you all a fair wind and clear skies, and a good night.

Even if you have to drink certain horrifying images out of your mind, as I'm going to do now.