Then you're a bitch. And you'll get the bitch ending you deserve.

I really shouldn't chortle so much at that. It involves a sadistic insect and crazy-ass tasks. I have a feeling the tree of Irony is lurking nearby. Or atleast the shrub of Poetic Justice.

What's that? Have I finished my essay you ask? How is it going you ask? Will I have any delicious icecream you ask?!

Sort of.

My essay is going well...ish. It would probably help if I didn't start rereading OOTS. But i'm nearly half-way through, it would be stupid to turn back now. I guess the cruel laws of probability leave me with no choice but to continue reading the rest. Woe is me.

Wait, that made no sense.

Grates was awesome! Damn awesome. Surprisingly excellent support, MIA?! Also ended up talking Shakespeare and movies with randoms. Twas fun.

I have...another 8 hours or so before I have to hand this in. Sweet! Sleep is not that important, to quote the Cultural Studies. Or as it would say:

President Reagan says the Marines do not have to go to El Salvador.
President Reagan says the Marines do not have to go to El Salvador.
President Reagan says the Marines do not have to go to El Salvador.
President Reagan says the Marines do not have to go to El Salvador.
And so on and so forth...Or any combination of them! Go bananas!

My fridge started making high-pitched beeping sounds. I turned it off. That'll show him.

NOO! The MILK!

"There's butter on my face!"