�That's Not Ironic; That's What Happened

Despite the fact that I was 15 when Buffy: The Vampire Slayer first came on the air, I could never stand that show. It's not that I got caught up on the incredibility of vampires and werewolves and whatnot -- that was all fine. It was the other end of the spectrum. The over-wrought angst forced into every episode. The ultra-hip dialogue that made every teenager stupid. The general mangling of language as a means of character development. It pissed me off.

A friend I have known since I was 36-hours old, however, became utterly obsessed with the show. She watched every episode. She also taped every episode so that she could watch it multiple times later. She spent her lunch hours in the computer lab, looking up fansites about Sarah Michelle Geller and David Boreanaz. She had pictures of them taped on her bedroom walls and on the inside of her locker. She was a Buffy fiend.

But you didn't need to spend a great deal of time with her to know this. You just had to listen to her talk for 15 seconds. She completely adopted the incredibly, incredibly annoying Buffy-speak. Not just the words -- she paused at the appropriate times and even incorporated the facial expressions and hand gestures. This continued into university and long after the series was blessedly ended.

But she's still that way. Her entire personality and thought processes have been taken over by Buffy. It's her now and there is apparently no going back. If that show had never existed, she would be a completely different person.

That's why I'm currently camped outside Joss Whedon's house with a loaded crossbow and a sack full of stakes.

Claire shall be avenged.

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