OMFG I’ve Been Abducted!

There are aliens posting on my journal. No, seriously. Stop looking at me like that! Here! The last comment. Sathael is totally a Wraith. They’re real, I swear it! And that’s not my starvation talking! You try not eating twinkies for a month and tell me how it makes you feel.

You have no idea what I’ve been through in the past few weeks what with trying to hunt down Sanjaya. I’m going to be like the female Max Bialystock and Leo Bloom and I’m going to cast Sanjaya as the lead in my show (sorry, my cross-dressing-brain-eating-sort-of-soulmate-but-not-really-because-he’s-too-thin-for-me, but Sanjaya is obviously related to Mohinder and has better hair than you.) The show will be a total bomb, but it’ll be so great — especially if I can cast The Crying Girl as his accomplice, Nellie Lovett. I think everyone would buy tickets to it! Ah, if only I could get Scott Savol and Kevin Covais in smaller roles — it would be a total hit amongst the VFTW crowd!

Sanjaya would totally make an awesome Sweeney Todd. He’d bring such a young, more humanized feeling to the role of a head-slicing, human sausage-making, hair-cutting killer. Even though some people are more cut out for the role, I’m picking favorites. Despite your apparent saavy ways of cutting open heads without the aid of a straight razor…you’re holding my husband hostage to a ceiling in his own home and that makes me sad. (Well, not really. At least he can’t get away from me now!)

But anyways, aliens. I was minding my own business, walking down the street, trying so so hard not to think about food and all the weight I’ve lost in the last four weeks (it’s really quite depressing)… Hunger strikes really suck. I eat my weight in twinkies in a day, and it’s so depressing not to be able to do that because of some crappy singer on a reality TV show. Mmm. Twinkies. I’ll have to go buy Wal-Mart out of those again.

What was I talking about.

Oh yes, aliens. I was walking down the street when suddenly I went unconscious. I must have been thinking about Mohinder or something — you know, he’s just so stunning that he makes me pass out every time I think of him! Funny, that. I came to, and I found myself on board a ship, stuck with these nuts:

Now, I was kind of freaking out here since I’m not into the whole alien anal-probing thing. And this ship didn’t look like it had any twinkies on it. I thought that one of the guys captured with me was Tim, because he looked like a caveman, so I started talking to him.

Me: Oh my God, Caveman Tim! How did you get here?

Me not Tim! Me Ronan!

Me: You look like a Tim.

Me have big guns! Like to make big noise!

Me: Tim likes to make big fire.

Ronan like big fire! Big fire make big explosion make big noise! RONAN LIKE!

Me: Do you watch American Idol?

I was trying to make some idle conversation to pass the time since it seemed like we were going to be there for a while.

Ronan love American Idol. Me like Sanjaya. He make big noise!

And he proceeded to break out into the best rendition of “You Really Got Me” that I think I’ve ever heard a caveman sing. I guess his singing was a little much, though, since this woman (who I swear resembled Simon Cowell up close) came up to our cell door, looking thoroughly infuriated.
How DARE you mention the S-word on my ship!

Me: Who the hell is this chick?

I am the most magnificent, most beautiful, most gracious…

My brain zoned out there since I have the attention span of a gnat. But I think she was monologuing about something important.

Ronan no like pretty white-haired woman! RONAN SMASH!

And “Ronan” proceeded to run to the back of the cell, put his head down, and run head first into the bars like a bull. He seemed to enjoy doing this because he did it about a dozen times before someone stepped in and stopped him.

Ronan, let me handle the nice lady. I know I pissed you off when I had to leave to go back to Atlantis, but baby, you guys just don’t get good TV reception on these things. I had to at least try and hijack your ship since our Stargate to Earth isn’t working, and I had to follow American Idol to see from far across the galaxy just how far that Sanjaya kid would–
Don’t you “but baby” me, mister! Do you have ANY idea how many times I tried swinging my hive ship towards Earth so I could make the tryouts for that show? And do you have any idea how many times you people started shooting at me? I don’t want to hear any of this “but baby” crap! You know I have a good voice! You just don’t believe in me!
Look, sweetcheeks, we’ve been through this. I can’t be a Wraith-worshipper since I have this thing about sucking out other people’s lives through my hand. It’s just — how can I say this without being mean… American Idol has a special place in my heart.
OH! OH! So you don’t even care about me. I see how you are! Oh, the poor Atlanteans. “Hey, there’s a hive ship! Let’s try and take it over so we can get back to Earth in time to watch American Idol on Tuesday!” Yes, that’s real nice. Well, what about MY feelings? Do you even care about how I feel?

This was a lover’s quarrel that I was going to stay out of. So I busied myself in the back of our cell talking to another of these strange white-haired beings who had a crew cut.
Craaaaawling iiiin my skiiiiin, these woooounds will neveeeer heeeaaaal!

Me: OH MY GOD, PETER? Is that you?

The weird-looking white haired thing stopped cutting himself long enough to look at me with tears in his emo-eyes.
Everyone always mistakes me for someone else. First, I was a Wraith. Everyone loved me. Then I was captured. Hunted. Turned into a human. Lied to. Betrayed. Oh so betrayed. Life was dismal. And dark. Darkness surrounding me. I found out the truth about french fries. The truth about myself. They lied to me. Lies. Deceit. Hurt. No one will ever accept me for who I am!

Me: And who are you?

They call me…

Me: Ishmael?

No. They call me…

Me: Tim?

I guess this was too much for the white-haired emo fellow to deal with because he broke down in tears and started reciting Poe poetry under his breath.

MICHAEL!
Yes?
Why are you wearing my jeans?
…because they make me feel pretty. They make me feel like I matter. They make me feel beautiful!

Me: Are you sure you’re not related to Peter Petrelli or this fabulous human being?

“Michael” started crying again about how he had no family and no one cared about him, and about how he was going to rebel against the pretty white-haired lady by not eating humans anymore.

It looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while.

Me: Yes, yes it does.

I guess I’m lucky that I had my laptop on me when I got abducted! At least my laptop has wireless internet. Man, my wireless bills are going to be through the roof. I wonder how much they charge to make posts from across galaxies…

~ Lana