Meg was still sort of bummed that her parents hadn't let her live in the dorms but living on your own did have it's advantages. For one, she could sleep in until noon without anybody waking her up. And two, she could spend the evening snuggled down on the couch with a pint of ice cream, watching Top Model re-runs.

Yeah, Meg wasn't really taking advantage of the Stanford night life. She didn't really have a problem with that. There was homework to be done. She had her laptop out and everything. She'd get to it eventually. You know, after she was through with the TV watching.

[Open for phone calls, e-mails, etc]

John was crouched on top of the fridge, clad in tight-fitting clothing and trying his best to meld into the corner to be invisible. His hair was flopping in his eyes but he dare not even try to blow it away for fear of giving away his position.

Almost silently, the metallic monstrosity creeped forward across the kitchen floor, stopping as if to sniff the air; the long flexible tail swished back and forth, almost touching the linoleum. Catlike, it crept a few more paces, almost under John, almost into the dining room.

John could feel the sweat pouring off of him, taste the salt in his mouth as it dripped off his nose onto his lips. Almost ready... He concentrated, bringing that small ball of chi up in his hands, ready. It wasn't a leap, it was a controlled fall.

It reacted instantly as the fridge shifted slightly, moving away on four spiderlike legs, but it was too late as John Connor landed on its back, releasing his chi as a blast like an electromagnetic pulse to disable anything electric.

"Tag. You're it," he said, as he rolled off of Scorpy, who kicked the floor in frustration. It turned and pounced on John, acting for all the world like an excited puppy. "Heeelp! Heeeelp!" John mock-shouted as he wrestled with his 'bot. "Sparky! Bring the EMP!"

Sparky just sat on the corner of the countertop, shaking its head until it fell backwards and flailed its little limbs like a turtle.

[Perhaps someone wants to call/visit and rescue John interrupt?]

Parker had stopped at the Central Cafe again after this afternoon's lightning storm, and was waiting for the arrival of Isabel, and anyone else who wanted to chase fire around the perimeter of the Camp. Just as long as no one prematurely arson'd the Man again, like last year. Bastards.

[ooc: open to all Burners, with further developments upon the arrival of Zeeeero]

Marty was sure of several things:

1. He never owned a pair of Bermuda shorts.
2. He has never worn a pair of Berumuda shorts.
3. That his closet was now filled with Bermuda shorts.

"Angela? Are all my pants in the laundry?"

[Taking advantage of Fandom Weirdness now happening for Alumni! For the fake girlfriend or anyone who wishes to call]

There were exactly 216 chrysanthemums on the bedspread. 215, if she didn't count the mutant one in one corner.

Angela knew this because the time she spent waiting for Marty to get back was the longest of her life, and, after pacing, counting was the only thing she could find to do.

She could not believe she had let him go on his own. Even after he called, she was still worried. It wasn't as though he had said much on the phone.

( Prepare for rampaging teal deer )

[OOC: Preplayed with oatmanspatient, not in a pretty table because I AM JUST THAT LAZY. Also? Now we're done spamming you. NFI, NFB, OOC is still love.]

Marty paced the room looking like he was about to lose his mind. It was bad enough that Grocer was after him, but where the hell had Angela gone?

After checking the hotel room they were originally in and not finding her there he left and went to another hotel on the west side in case Grocer knew where they were staying. Making sure he wasn't followed he then left messages back at the hotel for Angela to contact him and tried to keep his brain from exploding while occasionally trying to call both Angela and Marcella on their cellphones.

( He-hello? )

[ooc: Preplayed once again with the faboo chasingangela. NFI but OOC is welcome!]

Marty sat in the examination room trying to figure out some way to get the paper gown they make you wear to at least cover his more private areas. Unsuccessfully.

"Can you explain to me why I have to wear this get-up if they're only taking a blood sample?" he grumped, as he shifted again to get the gown to cover his back.

( In which Marty runs into an old friend... )

( Meanwhile Angela meets some other friends of Marty... )

[ooc: Preplayed with the sensational chasingangela NFI though OOC is loooooooove]

Marty would always remember when he got the phone call. Mostly because he was reading "What to expect when you are expecting" and seemed to be stuck on two words -- "mucus plug".


While there was nothing wrong with it, it was still just something that you couldn't tear your mind away from.

So when the phone did ring, Marty was a bit distracted when he picked up. "Hello?"

( Sir? )

[ooc: preplayed with the awesome chasingangela. NFI but OOC okay.]

Piper didn't have to be at work for a few hours, so she was in her room, packing for her weekend trip to DC to visit Veronica.

She was so looking forward to her long weekend not having to deal with customers at the restaurant.

[ooc: expecing a phone call, but open for other calls, emails, random visits, etc.]

To: Alumni List
From: Veronica Mars (vmars@hearst.edu)
RE: Alumni Newsletter

Hello Fellow Fandom High Alums!

I hope this email finds you all well. The school administration has asked me to begin putting together a monthly newsletter to keep us all abreast of everyone's post Fandom activities.

Please reply to this email and let me know what you've been up to!

Take Care,
V

Veronica Mars
Fandom High Alumni
Class of '06


[ooc: submission post for the first newsletter! it will be formatted and go out sometime next weekend. any questions, drop me an email!]

Hello, fellow alums! This is TBQ (aka Angel-mun) and Jen (aka Veronica-mun) to share some exciting news with you!

( Cut for your pleasure )

That should cover everything. Any questions, comments, suggestions, etc can be tossed this way or you are welcome to hit up one or both of us via email - thebratq and roleplayingjen on gmail. Or you can use the handy-dandy Alumni Suggestion Box which will be linked on the userinfo page of the community.

We accept payment in the form of blackmailworthy photos and expensive hair care products.

Got any suggestions for alumni events?

Comment here! (comments are screened)

Due to something happening at work today, John was at home, chilling, alternating between angry as all getout and laughing his ass off.

Probably should not have loaded the CD changer with NIN and STP and hit RANDOM.

[open for interaction! Call/visits welcomed!]

Without a current client, Logan was stuck manning the desk again at Angel Investigations. He was seriously bored. He'd already gone through the usual porn sites and the Dr. Terrible site was down again, so he couldn't watch the new webisode.

He considered the pros and cons of making a website for Angel Investigations and waited to see if the phone would ring so he could do something interesting.

Veronica had been in DC for nearly a month now and was really enjoying her internship with the FBI. She was learning a lot and was really glad she had decided to take it.

It was a lot of work though. She was spending her evening reading through case files.


[Expecting a phone call, but open for anyone who would like to contact her. I totally meant to do more with her internship this summer, but RL sort of ate my brain.]

"I don't understand," Annette began as they trekked along, the heels of her boots crunching along the rocky path. "That pub way back there, I swear to everything that's holy that that guy was a vampire. I know it. He wrinkled up his nose when I got close," thanks to her garlic necklace, "and when I pulled out my water gun he freaked. Definite vampire material. I only got a few shots off--" Annette paused, shaking her head. "--threw me out, even after I paid for my drink. Are you listening to me, A.J.? It just wasn't fair. I still can't believe no one came after us. That vampire, surely he had a... nest somewhere." She paused, stopped, looked at her traveling companion. "Maybe we should go back, search for it?" she suggested oh so wisely.


[For the one with her, of course, unless there are other Alp hikers! :)]

To: [Willow's friends], [Peter's friends]
From: Willow
Subject: We made it! Hi!

Hi everybody! We're here! We made it! The trip to Narnia was fine and as you can see I was able to get our email up and running. Peter's busy with his kingly stuff but I know he'd want to say hello and also STICKBUGS RULE! Mind you I'm assuming his wording but I feel fairly confident about my assumption.

Everyone here's been so sweet. Philbert is set up in a new cage, I have my own apartment, and I'll be getting lessons in how to bake in ovens that don't have handy knobs on them. (How did I not learn that before I got here? I'm like those people who go on Amazing Race and don't learn how to drive stick!!What's WRONG with me??)

Anyway, things are busy but I didn't want anyone to fret. We're here! We're fine! We still haven't set a date for the wedding yet!

*HUGS* Or, in Peter's case, some sort of proper British gesture of friendly affection like unto nodding his head in a polite manner.

Miss you all!

Love,
Willow (and by extension Peter)

[ooc: Willow sent this to both her friends and to Peter's. If you think you got it, you did. Whee!]

So it wasn't exactly the smoothest ride available, but, after getting this far and a long month in Greece, A.J. figured it was sure a lot better than walking, and the man driving the garlic truck was nice enough to let them ride in the back as he drove up, in the bed where all the crates and probably a considerable amount of bulbs that had fallen out sat, rattling on the bumpy roads.

"Well," he remarked, picking up a bulb and inspecting it, "at least this way we know we'll be good and protected if there actually are vampires once we get to Romania..."


[[ for anyone who might be in the back of a garlic truck as well. ]]

"No, Officer," John was saying, standing outside his house wearing fluffy fuzzy bunny slippers, blue bathrobe, and a shiteating grin of innocence, "I have no idea why the airbag went off when the radio was removed. Isn't that kind of dangerous?"

The officer glared at John. "I had it installed professionally," he continued, "at a place downtown. Receipt's still in the glovebox. You don't...you don't think they miswired it, do you?" Nevermind that the receipt was for a shop that closed down at least six months ago, and no reputable place would cross the airbag wire with anything remotely connected to the radio.

"Do I need to press charges, Officer? I mean, he cut a hole in the window here. It's only plastic, but it's still vandalism. And he cut the battery wire, too."

"How do you explain how the airbag went off if the battery was disconnected?" inquired the officer, not able to belive a second of John's story.

"Oh, I had the batteries relocated to the back there, behind the rear seat," he said, sipping his coffee and placing the mug on the fender. "The one up front is just for the winch. Two deep-cycle batteries; put that in when I converted it to diesel. Helps balance out the weight, put more at the rear where it's needed."

The cops had a field day searching John's car, asking way too many questions about why someone would need a locking rifle case (empty, "for fishing rods"), rope ("mountain climbing"), a stack of MREs and water bottles ("Survival camping. It's a hobby"), and an exploded airbag, complete with woould-be robber taking a gurney ride to the hospital ("Don't know. Guess he wasn't paying attention when he was trying to steal my radio.").

John was 'released' after a few hours and told not to go anywhere. It would take time for him to go anywhere anyways, now that he had to re-pack the Get Out Of Dodge equipment back into his bug-out vehicle. Serves him right for parking on the street. All that, and still time enough for him to sit on the couch, 'working', and watcing whatever bad movies were on all before lunch.

[open for visitors and/or phone calls]

Parker is valiantly avoiding her homework. Mostly because she regards her fellow group members as idiots.

As it happens, she has new material to use on a few people. So phone calls are in order.

*riiiiing*

Particularly to L.A.

[for Logan, and Angel if he wants in on it.]

Veronica was working on a twenty page paper for one of her classes.

And maybe thinking about how much fun she had had at the prom on Friday night.



[expecting one weetiny, but open to any phone calls, visits, etc]

Tori had been thinking about starting her own surfing company for a few weeks now and decided to do some research. She wasn't going to start it up anytime soon, it was just something she'd been pondering.

Besides, she wasn't about to stop teaching at the Wind Ninja Academy. She loved her students too much to do that.

Glancing at the page her web search had brought, Tori bookmarked it, wondering if she should make a pros and cons list.

[OOC: Phone call, e-mails, visits are all welcome! Especially if any are of the AU!kid variety!]