This has been a rather interesting night.

First, Jess and I finished up season 2 of Doctor Who— the second time for me, but the first for her. Consequently, she was a bit of an emotional wreck after Rose’s departure. I did warn her, but I still can’t blame her.

One of our friends has decided that every Friday will be movie night at her apartment, so after Who we went over to watch Hook. Somehow, I had never seen this movie before, and it gave me a shit ton of emotions for two main reasons.

For one thing, it was just a wonderful freaking movie. The cast was brilliant. The sets were beautiful and whimsical. The dialogue was charming… I just loved absolutely everything about it. I’m in shock that such a piece of perfection never found it’s way into my life sooner.

The second reason I got so worked up over it was because of Rufio— or, more specifically, Rufio’s voice. Thanks to Tumblr gifs, I’d already known that it was Dante Basco. (Again, why have I never seen this movie?!) Actually seeing and hearing him was a major trip though, since this was the first live-action role of his I’d ever seen. Prior to this, I only knew him as Prince Zuko (whom I have a not-so-secret crush on) and Jake Long, both of which are animated characters. Not to mention the fact that I was already having a lot of Zuko feelings lately, since I just saw the first two episodes of Legend of Korra recently. (I haven’t posted about that, have I? I really should. God, it’s so wonderful.) So basically, every time that boy spoke, I started flailing and sometimes screaming a bit. (The scene where he insults Peter is the best, because dear God, it was so Zuko.)

After Hook, we ended up just kind of standing around and talking for a bit. The friend hosting the movie night is the same friend who introduced me to my texting buddy; (I met him at her last movie night); so at one point she called me into her room to talk about him. It didn’t change my mind about the situation at all, but it was sort of comforting to hear from her own mouth that she was okay with what had been going on. Not only that, but apparently she was the one who pushed him into messaging me on Facebook. I suppose it’s comforting to know that I wouldn’t be hurting anybody if I ever were to change my mind, but I don’t think I will. My experience with Dumbass and my stubborn sense of honor will probably prevent such a change of mind. Or, if not either of those things, then geography.

While we were deep in discussion, one of our other friends who was also there for the movie night came in. She wanted to show the friend I was talking to her new bra, but she wanted to be discreet about it because there were guys in the apartment. So I closed the door to give her some privacy, but all three of us failed to remember the open window.

Shortly after she pulled her shirt back down, there came howling and cawing from outside. Instantly we were horrified, even though it was only her back facing the window. She scuttled out of the room while I stood there shrieking with laughter and my other friend started howling and cawing back. This eventually evolved into actual English, until finally she asked “Do you guys need to be let into the building?”

Not only did she let them into the building, but much to the embarrassment of our flashing friend, she invited them inside the apartment. They turned out to be art school students who were visiting a friend while they were on their spring break. Their names were Peter and Vincent, and they were introduced in that order, so I found myself thinking about Fright Night a lot. They were also both attractive as hell, and Vincent had an Australian accent.

Turns out, neither of them actually saw any of us; they just saw light from the window and heard us talking. So once that little piece of information was clarified, everyone got a lot more comfortable, and we actually talked to them for a really long time. They gave off an ever-so-slight air of stereotypical art school student pretentiousness, but they were really nice and so damn sexy that I wasn’t really annoyed by this.

So between Doctor Who, Dante Basco, my texting buddy, and these two interesting strangers, tonight has just been a roller coaster of emotions. Now it’s after four in the morning, and I’m about ready to pass out. (Fingers crossed for dreams about Zuko.)

So, in case I haven’t made it that clear yet, I really don’t like my Pottermore name.

RoseMugwump166.

Rose— okay, I can deal with that. Rose is the daughter of Ron and Hermione, who are my Harry Potter OTP. It also reminds me of Rose Tyler, which is kinda cool because I just became obsessed with Doctor Who last year, so it’s kinda like I have a double geek thing going on. Still though, I don’t have a strong enough emotional connection to Rose Weasley or Rose Tyler that would make me desire “Rose” as part of my username.

Mugwump— well, I just don’t know what to say about this part. I’m aware that a mugwump is an honorable title of some sort, so I guess that’s cool? It just feels so random. Again, there’s the issue of emotional connection; I don’t think of myself as a mugwump, nor am I passionately in love with any character that is a mugwump. Mugwumps are hardly even mentioned in the series. It’s just a funny, silly, quirky, wizardy-sounding word that’s perfect for a randomly generated username.

166— I’m pretty sure this is the part that irks me the most about my username. See, I’ve never been the type of person to put numbers in my online usernames, even when I was a little kid. Not that I’m judging other people who have numbers in their usernames, I was just never into it myself. I can’t really explain why; I guess I just don’t feel like it’s a “name” if it has digits in it? But for something like this where the user IDs are randomly generated, I can understand the necessity of numbers. However, I could deal with the numbers much better if I could only have some sort of connection with them!

I’ve tried to think of everything I possibly can, and the fact is that there is just nothing in the world that ties me to the number 166. Nothing significant has ever happened to me on June 16th. There is nothing special to me with the initials A.F.F. The closest thing I’ve been able to find is Harry’s Hogwarts letter, which is on page 66 in my copy of Sorcerer’s Stone.

I’m not even asking for much here. I don’t need an awesome number like 7 (my favorite number), 221 (as in 221B Baker Street), or anything like that. I also don’t need anything super personal, like 24 (the day I was born). I would’ve been okay with 25, because I love Pikachu and I used to be hardcore into Pokémon back in the day, even though I’m not really that into it anymore. I would’ve been okay with 101, because of 101 Dalmations, even though it’s not even my favorite Disney movie; because I’m a college student and it reminds me of college courses; or because it’s just a safe, generic number. There are dozens of numbers that I would have found some reason to like, but no, I got 166. They gave a stupid number to a person who already hates username numbers.

So, in order to cope with all this, I made up a little fan fiction type thing in my head. In my imagination, there’s a character named Rose Mugwump, and my adventures on Pottermore equal her adventures at Hogwarts.

Her last name is Mugwump because, in my version of the Harry Potter universe, the title of mugwump is named after her family. One of her ancestors did something super cool and legendary, so they named a title after him or her.

Except I still have to deal with the stupid number. So her full name is Rose Mugwump the 166th. I haven’t decided yet why the Mugwumps like naming their daughters Rose so much. Maybe Rose was the name of the ancestor who the mugwump title was named after. Or maybe some of the early Mugwumps got a visit from Nine or Ten, and Rose Tyler did something very nice for them. Or maybe there’s some dumb family tradition that requires you to name your offspring after plants. Rose could have a brother named Stinksap.

So, yeah, I still kind of hate my username, but that’s the story I came up with to make me hate it a little less. PLEASE let me know if any of you come up with something better. Or if you think of a reason I should love the number 166.

Dear BBC,

It is my understanding that you are going through a bit of a budget crisis, as is evident by your abhorrent action of cutting Doctor Who Confidential, among other things. Because of this, I have decided that I will donate my life savings to you, under the condition that you meet the following demands:

• David Tennant in my bed.
• Matt Smith in my bed.
• Benedict Cumberbatch in my bed.
• Give the daleks one of their old styles back. No more of this mighty morphing, candy coated shit.
• Ditch the Gwack storyline. It sucks and I don’t approve. Gwys and Janto forever!
• Which reminds me… Ianto? Yeah, he’s gotta come back somehow.
• Actually, I think I want John Barrowman and Garreth David-Lloyd in my bed too. At the same time.
• Another Doctor Who spin-off, or at least just one Christmas special, starring metacrisis Ten and Rose.
• Sherlock and John. Make it canon. The writers clearly already ship them, so I feel like this wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.
• Stop cutting things from the BBC America broadcasts. Nobody likes that stupid Amy intro anyway. Just give us the episodes in their entirety.

If you do not satisfy these demands, then you will continue to be in a budget crisis, and your fans will never cease to send you angry letters and sulk on Tumblr. Is that really what you want, BBC? Having fans that sulk on Tumblr isn’t cool.

With love and fangirling,

Froggy Phevoli

(Source: froggyphevoli)