Cryptic poetry and Vanilla custard

So....I hate it when people cryptically reference you online, only that they are super obvious about it at the same time..ya know what I mean? But for the record, yes, I got your thinly veiled message hidden in poetry, and yes, I will be taking that advice. But not for your sake, but for mine. So suck it, frack yourself, and have a jolly nice life. So...Doctor Who series seven finale, eh? I didn't watch it...yet. I'm only a few eppys behind, so I should be caught up by next weekend!! It took me about four months to watch every episode since series one..it was so worth it though. I can't believe how much time I devoted to watching all the episodes on end..so many good memories. Like when we first met Rose? Lovely. The first time I met a Dalek? Breathtaking. First time I saw a Weeping Angel? Terrifying. Series Two finale? I cried in the fetal postion for days. Honestly, I never cry for media. Ever. No matter how sad. I was always the somber but tearless person in the room when everyone was bawling their eyes out watching Sirius die in Order of the Pheonix (Spoilers...) And then Doctor Who came along...and I turned into the sentimental, emotionally unbalanced, overly obsessive fangirl I am today. How humany wumany....curse the fan life. It is such a hassle sometimes. Do I look like I have to money to buy countless t-shirts and prop replicas? No. Do I look like I have enough time to blow through a series in a week? No. Do I look like I have the intelligence and mental agility to build myself a Time Vortex Manipulator? Well....yes..but I neither have the funds nor the BLOODY FRACKING TIME. Ah..life.