Except I don't. I have taken the weekend off and tomorrow I have to get back to studying again, all ready for my exams. I loathe life. I am studying on the most stressfull course my uni offers (according to the head of department) and I am powered by all the white-hot motivation of, say, a cheese and pickle sandwhich. I hate everything, especially you. You are unworthy even to cast your gaze upon my august blog.
Fuck off and go here, instead.
Or go back to typing body-parts and superhero names into Google. Whatever. I don't care.
Hello, hello, hello. Decided to cook up a servitor tonite; the little critter will be charged with the unenviable task of motivating me and helping me get through my studies. Haven't done a nice juicy totally selfish mememe type working since 11th September .... well, let's not think about that now.
Bored, bored, bored. Cabin fever a-go-go. How can a body be so bored and yet so busy? Looks like another all-nighter for Our Protagonist. Deadlines to the left of me, deadlines to the right of me, volleyed and thundered. If I get through this degree it's going to take me till retirement age to get my breath back.
Why didn't I do this back when I was 18? Why didn't I do media studies or social work? Who shot JR? Who cares. I want a beeeeeer.