When BNF found herself three sandwiches short of a picnic, she ate the basket she'd woven under doctor's orders.
Literary Buffistas 3: Don't Parse the Blurb, Dear.
There's more to life than watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer! No. Really, there is! Honestly! Here's a place for Buffistas to come and discuss what it is they're reading, their favorite authors and poets. "Geez. Crack a book sometime."
Now, now, BNFs aren't crazy. They just make other people crazy.
She was a crazy as a monkey without a tree.
Her crazy train was stopping at all the stations.
(Ok, I'm not much of a writer)
Crazy as trying to solve a Rubik's cube...with all the stickers taken off.
Pwnier than a troll with a flamethrower.
Now, now, BNFs aren't crazy. They just make other people crazy.
I know. I just couldn't think of a good fannish name that wasn't actually someone's name or fandom pseud.
Signed,
Arrived at Bronze already to call myself "Closet Buffyholic" only to see posts by Closet Buffyholic.
She went on and on about that OTP of hers, even after the season finale--just as crazy and determined as the dance band on the Titanic when that particular ship was sunk.
Whenever I read her posts, my laptop degaussed. Condensation clogged its fan. She could spin the leanest and most innocent phrase into a plump suggestion of man-lust wrapped in a sly pun. That gal had HSQ like coffee sweetened with landmines.
Reading her comments was like incorporating Gmail's adverts into your conversation. She was a random as a d6 on crack, and her stories had all the literary quality of a drunken Madlib.
Inspired by Natter:
She was crazier than letters of complaint about Prince to the FCC, and only half as amusing.