Star Trek and other inappropriate musings

So, I share a house with a sci fi 'anorak' which translates as  sci fi dork.  She particularly loves Star Trek Next Generation and it has become apparent that I have absorbed some of her 'anorak-icity' through some sort of osmosis. I'm guessing I've accidentally seen too much and have already started to worry and concern myself with stupid crap.  My concerns/thoughts include:

• Worf the Klingon - I was looking at Worf's head arrangement and in particular the great fucking crack thing down the centre of it.  C'mon, that HAS to attract dirt and debris   How does it get clean? It's a pretty tight face crack and well, I guess it can't be easily cleaned which would suggest it spawns bacteria and therefore stinks.  The thought of it and the face-cheese which must grow in it actually makes me feel a bit sick.  He's a big bloke and I've already inappropriately thought about the enormous Klingon dick he probably has but hell, who wants that when his face stinks like sour milk?  Klingon's? They can fuck right off!

• Deanna Troi - a right bleedin' liability!  If anyone is going to become possessed, and she is pretty much possessed every week,  and try to kill the rest of the crew it's going to be her.  I'd tell her to fuck right off if she tried to counsel me. Her boobs are too hard and sticky out any way.

• Being a general pleb on board - Every. Single. Epsiode the ship ends up going to red alert with all the alarms going off.  I recently got lost in thought wondering how I would feel as just a general worker pleb type crew member wandering around doing shit low level work on board.  Every other fucking day the alarm goes off - you'd be a nervous wreck wouldn't you?  I'd be weeping like a shitty baby, my hand would be a claw, I'd be bald and I'd be too terrified of the Ship's possessed counsellor to get any therapy.  I suspect I wouldn't be cut out for Star Fleet.  I could hear my pitiful voice whining  "....fucking hell, the alarms are going off again" and then picturing myself running up and down the corridor screaming that we were all about to die. Of course, I'd have been wrong - the new bloke on the Bridge would die and everyone else would be safe.  Fuck, that's one promotion you wouldn't want isn't it?

In other inappropriate musings, I was advised, at 8:34am that I had dried dinner on my clothes.  There's nothing like caring about your appearance eh?  Later on, as I was fuelling my car, I noticed the CCTV and started to worry about how I would look on the news if this was the last sighting of me.  The sci fi anorak would have to give a description of me to police which would include food stained clothes and an over-sized Parker coat which makes me look like I'm off on a polar expedition.  When they find my body they'll also discover I am wearing Cookie Monster drawers.  I would go down in history not as a sexy young thing but as a fucking Crazy Cat Lady in the making.  I then worried about what the Coroner would list as my stomach contents and wondered whether it would be read out in the Court - I'd chewed up a false nail and eaten the dried glue, I'd also eaten part of a plastic robot, crisps, goats cheese, cake, sweets, diet coke (how dare I?) and some porridge.  Fuck me, if it's found that I hadn't been murdered it would most likely be registered that I'd died of fucking Scurvy or Ricketts.  A shameful and pitiful diet.  When I got home I ate some lettuce just so they'd find SOMETHING green inside me.  Of course, I hope I don't end up murdered or dead in a weird and bizarre manner but you have to be prepared.  I'll tell you about my hiding places should an armed madman burst into the house next time.....