#improbablycluelessbing

I can’t decide how Improbablycluelessbing is best punctuated:

Improbably-Clueless-Bing  

OR

"I’m probably clueless." -Bing

When the quandary first occurred to me, I considered asking Bing directly, but I thought the question might hurt his feelings.  Later I realized it probably wouldn't hurt his feelings... because he wouldn't understand the question.

Yesterday I asked Mr. Bearcy for an opinion, and he responded:

punctuation isnt my strength due to lack of dexterity however my best guess for bings handle is

im pr ob ab lyc lu ele s sbi ng

i believe thats a chemical compound you see bing is a dedicated medical student

As much as I respect Mr. Bearcy's insights regarding the heart & tears of William Darcy, it is impossible for me to concur with him on this particular issue-- because I have a degree in chemistry.

Once upon a time, ohmykilay said:

I need someone to flail with. Like, seriously. I need another human being who understands my need to fangirl.

And it led to me realizing that I've been trying to start a pandemic.

I can’t even guess how many poor unsuspecting souls I have infected with the initial germ of curiosity about the LBD. I’ve been spreading germs of fandom to those around me for months, but I feel particularly guilty about the past six weeks or so.

Due to increasing levels of glee and trauma (all the feels!!) the beginning of 2013 saw me sinking to a level of fangirling which overwhelmed good sense to the point where I could no longer wait until I got home from work to watch new episodes.  It has now become standard for me to keep earbuds in my jacket pocket so that I can watch new episodes on my phone during my lunch break.  If I could keep it to myself, I would have no guilt about this… but … all the feels! 

I think it is a truth (soon to be universally acknowledged) that a fangirl in possession of the glee resulting from seeing Lizzie and Darcy being civil (!!!) to one another MUST be in want of someone to squee with.

Many innocent lives have been destroyed by inability to restrain my flailing.  It was bad enough when I watched episodes at home and calmed down (somewhat) before the next day of work, but now?!  Watching episodes from the Pemberley arc and then interacting with unsuspecting civilians immediately afterwards?  I have been so irresponsible. 

There is no time lapse for my system to build up antibodies to my feels.  I need to fangirl or explode.  Everyone who comes near me gets dusted with nascent germs of fandom, and while some folks seem to be bizarrely immune, so many others have gone home, fired up YouTube, and naively clicked a link, little knowing how one click would lead to another.

Some of these people have come to me and (rightly) accused me of destroying their ability to get anything done. 

“Oh.My.Gigi.  I watched it.  I mean… I watched the first… thirty? forty?… before I had to go to sleep… I haven’t even seen Darcy yet.  I can’t even.  Why did you tell me about this on a week night?”

“Do you know how many hours it took me to get caught up?!?  My family thinks I’ve lost my mind.”

“I ran out of ‘next episodes’!!!  Now what do I do? how long do I have to wait to see the ending?”

“Lydia! WHY? Lizzie.  Darcy.  ::sob::  Why did you tell me to watch this?”

The worst part is that despite my guilty acceptance of the fact that I’ve infected these poor souls with a fandom that has already sucked hours from their free time and kicked them right in the feels, do I respond with “There, there… it’s only about five minutes, twice a week” as a humane person would do?

No. 

Not even close.

(If I once had a shoulder-angel encouraging me to say kind and helpful things like that, he gave up and left weeks ago.)

Instead I get a gleam in my eye and say terrible, TERRIBLE things like:

“You watched Maria of the Lu, The LY-DEE-AH and all the Pemberley Digital episodes as well, right?”

“Did you know that you can be following everyone on Twitter?  For extra fun times you might want to read all the accounts starting from the beginning. Team FIGI is the best.”

“There’s this picture of Darcy and Lizzie together— from her tour of SF— that’s totes adorbs.  You might want to see it… and some others…”

“I can’t decide if Improbablycluelessbing is punctuated ‘I’m probably clueless.’ -Bing  or Improbably-Clueless-Bing.  Thoughts?  Oh— you haven’t been following ImprobablycluelessBing, HipsterDarcy, WorstWingmanEverFitz, and the others?  Never mind then… but you might want to follow them…”

“Do you think William Darcy’s tears have magical powers and that is how Mr. Bearcy became sentient?  Or that perhaps Mr. Bearcy simply became Real like all toys that are truly loved, a la the Velveteen Rabbit?”

I know, I know.  I should be so ashamed!

I start with innocent looking little germs of “You would like this— it’s so clever!”  I wear down resistance with daily bursts of glee about the LBD even on days when I’m cranky and crabby about life in general.  I draw parallels to whatever fandom my victim fancies in order to overcome his/her defenses.