A New Low

As I'm sure you few who are interested enough to follow the shenanigans of a near-19-year-old girl over the internet (see: stalker, rapist) have gathered, Alex has manipulated my squishy, female brain into really, really liking Transformers, in particular, the new Transformers Animated cartoon. The levels of geekiness there, while prominent, are nothing really new. Liking a cartoon? That's nerdish, of course, but it could be worse.

If you could imagine my voice and face right now, imagine my shadowed visage leaning slowly closer, the dim light gleaming off of my glasses lens as my face becomes only partially illuminated by an ominous, pale glow. My voice is the slightest of whispers as I lowly rasp out "Much worse, Reader. Much, MUCH worse."

I jerk backwards into the shadows and make a sharp slide away from the table, causing it to rattle. I slither out of sight. My re-arrival is heralded by the pained squeaks and rattles of rusty, worn wheels as I slide a cold, sharp metal table covered by a sheet towards you.

In a single, dramatic whirl of bloodstained cloth, your gaze falls upon...

*pause for dramatic effect*

TRANSFORMERS ACTION FIGURES!!

That's right, people. That's how far I've fallen. I knew of the toys' existence, of course. Transformers was originally created for the sole purpose of selling toys, after all. I just never thought I'd really care. After all, I haven't glanced twice at these insignificant little collectibles since Pokemon was still popular.

But as soon as Alex dropped the plastic tomb of a box containing a Bumblebee action figure, all of my self restraint and respect gave me a polite tip of the hat, and went on their merry way. The first sound out of my mouth was the kind of strangled gasp one might hear after finding a priceless golden statue buried in their back yard. And the first words out of my mouth were "OHMIGOD dude I TOTALLY need the Prowl figure now!!"

Alex flashed me look of pure smug douchebaggery as he worked on setting up his own figure of Swindle.

I thought I might be able to salvage my not-that-geekiness and not slip further into the inferno. But, around the time we spent hours and hours combing through various stores for a Prowl figure and coming up empty handed, I realized that, no. Alex dragged me down here by the throat, and here I'm staying.

As a matter of fact, our plastic army of cybertronians has grown to six. On my desk, I have Bumblebee, Lockdown, and Blurr. Over across the room, Alex is cooing over his Swindle, Optimus Prime, and Soundwave. Tomorrow, Prowl and Megatron join our respective forces.

I'm not going to worry too much. If I ever start LARPing however, I give you permission to shoot me 'til I stop twitching.