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So long, and thanks for all the socks!

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spiderine 

Come stop by my journal!  Soon there will be thinky thoughts about Ask!verse, but right now, there is hot filthy SMUT just for you!

Ask me anything you like about Martha and her adventures.  I've had the time of my life doing this, I've met the most amazing people, and I wouldn't have missed it for the world!


EDITED TO ADD:  My thinky thoughts are now posted here.
 

I've been Skinned

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I've been Skinned. It could have been worse; I could have been Boned.

Well, actually I've been Skinned and Muscled, but that doesn't sound nearly as funny.

After quite a bit of tinkering, I was able to recalibrate Owen's Boner -- I'm sorry, I simply can not use that name for it! I recalibrated the Bone Setter to knit the skin and muscle in my wounded leg. Spending Thursday night stumping around the Plass, trying to patrol for the Master with a very large gun while on crutches, made me realise that Torchwood has far too few active agents to allow me to be on limited duty. I must be able to funtion at my full capacity. Torchwood must be READY!

Insinuations that I merely want to be healed so I can look good for the documentary celebration on the 1st are spurious and mean-spirited however true they may be.

ALERT ALERT ALERT

I am intense
ALL TEAM AND ALLIES REPORT IN NOW!

THIS IS NOT A DRILL. REPEAT NOT A DRILL. THE MASTER IS IN CARDIFF. I don't give a damn if you don't know who that is, and I CERTAINLY don't care if you think his name is a laughing matter. JUST GET HERE AND BRING BIG FUCKING GUNS. NOW!


UPDATE: STAND DOWN, REMAIN ALERT. The sick twisted bastard was just toying with us. POSSIBLY. We're going to keep the Hub on full alert for now, just in case...

This is my real Current Projects Update

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Seeing as I'm stuck here on desk/lab/Rift duty while my leg heals, I may as well do the project update I didn't get to do yesterday.

Yes, I'm sure you all think it would be hilarious to see me trying to chase Weevils while on crutches, and yes, I am quite in the mood to spray a Weevil or two in the face. Still, it isn't going to happen, so don't hold your breath.

Yesterday evening when I woke up from my Percocet nap, I rang up an old classmate of mine from King's who happens to work at University Hospital. Mandy knows I'm working "special ops for the Government" (she still thinks I'm with UNIT) so she was willing to see me this morning to take a look at my leg without being too curious as to where I got the injury. Stitching up one's own leg in an emergency, while dashing and heroic if I do say so myself, is no substitute for proper medical attention. She had to re-do the stitches, which was no fun at all but will keep me from having some ugly scars later on, and all she asked in return was "gossip". No, Mandy, I'm no longer wearing the engagement ring; yes, Mandy, it's all right, Tom and I are still friends. Yes, Mandy, I know about the "bus in the tunnel" incident; no, Mandy, I can't tell you much about it except it's sorted. No, I didn't know Constance and Brian got married, and I certainly didn't know they've already divorced when he caught her having it off with a big burly nurse in the dispensary! LOL!

See? I didn't even have to retcon her! :)

So: Projects.

The protozooids are communicating! They blink in binary! It was silly of me not to realise it before. After all, blinking is just on/off, one/zero, right? Here's what they're saying so far:

0100010001100101011000010111001000100000010100110110101101111001001000000100011101101111011001000111001100101100001000000111000001101100011001010110000101110011011001010010000001110011011001010110111001100100001000000111000001101100011000010110111001101011011101000110111101101110001011100010000001010100011010000110100101110011001000000110000101101100011001110110000101100101001000000110100101110011001000000111001001110101011000100110001001101001011100110110100000101110001000000101010001101000011000010110111001101011011100110010110000100000011011000110111101110110011001010010000001100001011011100110010000100000011101110111001001101001011001110110011101101100011001010111001100100001


Also, I've made some determination as to why we had a zombie attack the other day. I'm not best pleased. It seems that when I did the examination of the Donna mummy I inadvertently released microscopic particles of genetic material into the morgue drawer area. Since Donna's genetic material was fused with... well, you know... there was just enough residual regenerative energy to reanimate the corpses. NOT to regenerate them -- there wasn't anywhere near enough energy to do that. We were indeed defending ourselves from zombies, not living beings. Which offers cold comfort to me, as I may well have been responsible for reanimating them.

Or I could just blame our "visitors" who were examining the mummy with me. Or I could just say "bloody Torchwood", shrug it off and get on with my life. I think that's best. See? I'm learning; oh lord, how I'm learning!

Current Projects Update

I am sad
Well, that went... pretty horribly, actually.

This was going to be my usual project update, but, um, I've had to stitch my own leg and give myself a tetnus shot and I'm kind of woozy from the pain meds. I DIDN'T KNOW WEEVILS ARE PEOPLE! I NEVER would have tested an untried batch of retcon on Weevils if I'd known!

This is so very bad. Maybe not as bad as I originally thought -- not Tuskegee bad, certainly not Mengele bad! -- but ignorance is NO excuse for what I did. I should have done many more cognitive tests on the Weevils before I let my teammates convince me that they weren't sapient beings. I can't believe Owen didn't do it a long time ago! ...oh, all right, yes, I can believe Owen didn't do it. But it's still no excuse! I have to take responsibility for my own actions.

On the other hand, so should Janet! I went down there to apologise and give her blankets and make sure she was all right and she tried to eat me! That was extremely rude, if you ask me. I may have done wrong by Weevil-kind, but I was trying to make reparations and two wrongs do NOT make a right!

I'm really, really not looking forward to giving myself a rabies series. I know it's been eradicated in England, and of course I thoroughly disinfected the wound site, but with Weevils you never can tell, can you? I've learned that the hard way. I don't even know where I can get rabies vaccine and immune globulin in England! I certainly don't want to ask NHS because there'll be a huge bloody ruckus about it and possibly a public panic. I'll probably have to contact UNIT and even then there will be inquiries and paperwork and -- ugh. I'm exhausted just from thinking about it.

... and from the Percocet, to be honest.

I do have projects to update, I really do! But I'll do that later...


oh, but -- I don't know if this counts as a project, does this count as a project? John brushed his teeth all by himself this morning! He also ate a whole tube of toothpaste, but still! I'm very proud of my sweet honey boy...

Um... I think I'd better lie down now...

The 21st Century -- not everything changes!

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I can cure Thager syndrome and Zyth plague. I have treatments for 13 out of 16 known strains of Space Herpes. I have diagnostic equipment that won't be invented for centuries, and medicines from several galaxies.

I have a common cold, and I am completely helpless.

My throat hurts, my nose and ears are stuffy, and my chest is congested. I feel horrid, and there's nothing I can do except alleviate the symptoms. I keep telling myself that it's humbling; it's good for doctors to be reminded that we are not omnipotent! But honestly, I can't bring myself to care. I'm honking like a goose and coughing phlegm and I feel absolutely disgusting.

Which is why I spent the morning walking around the Hub in a mask and gloves and sanitising everything I usually touch. No, it's not some kind of sick fetish... or at least, it's not my sick fetish -- around here, it's best not to speculate. I just don't want to infect anyone else.

Needless to say, I won't be working in the med bay today except in case of emergency. I'm just going to sit here with my mug of hot honey-lemon tea and my tissues.

I hate being ill. It's like a direct slap in the face to my reason for existence. :(

Um... help?

am I in peril?
Sorry to interrupt, but if anyone's around could you possibly come down to the morgue? That noise you're hearing is all the LOCKED drawers slamming open and there are dead people crawling out and I'm trying to push them all back in and pile things against the doors but I'm running out of chairs and boxes and HOW MANY DEAD PEOPLE ARE DOWN HERE ANYWAY? And it doesn't seem to matter if I slice bits off of them, they keep coming and SO DO THE BITS and there's an ARM crawling around all on its own and it keeps trying to CRAWL UP MY LEG AND STRANGLE ME and oh God one of them is DONNA and she lurches around groaning, "AM I BOVVERED? AM I BOVVERED?" and I'm starting to get, um, a bit concerned?


EW! EW! JAW FALLING OFF EW!

I must have these

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I must have these.








But that would mean I'd have to learn to knit.  Damn.


EDIT: It's a whole blog! They have wonderful things!


Has anyone seen...?

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We're all celebrating my brilliant colleague's justly deserved award, and I hate to break into the party, but...

Has anyone seen Max-Theresa and Tomb Raider?  I haven't seen them since the awards were announced.

When last seen, Max looked like this and Tomb Raider looked like that.    I'm sure they're around here somewhere.