@#$%^&*((*&^%$^&*( !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It sucks when your post doesn't get published.

It sucks even worse when it's the internet's fault and you can't rant and throw flower pots at a physical thing to appease your anger (you can of course try aiming something at your computer, and hope that hitting it would appease that inner creative blogging genius that got short-changed. Then you cool down, and realize that your computer is wrecked, after which time you would probably realize that it would have been much less painful if you had just aimed a knife at your foot instead - but I digress).

So. It is too painful to re-write. There aren't anything momentuous in the entries anyway.

I wrote Quick Thoughts the night I realized that I will spend 3 weeks of my life thereafter suffering from the most lethal and crippling affliction known to the current student population, and very aptly coined, i must say (by yours truely) as the MUG MADNESS syndrome.

The symptoms are easy to recognize: my face will not be seen by my friends and family (except for those who are similarly afflicted and are similarly fighting our losing battles together in the artic environment of the law library), and those afflicted will gradually begin to look like the big cuddly black and white furry animals eating shoots and leaves in the zoo [an aside: spot the differnce btw (1) da panda eats shoots and leaves; and (2) the panda eats, shoots, and leaves. Answer: there is a spelling error in (1)!!!!!! mwahahahahahaha.. DUH. hee ;p]

... where was i... oh yea... and I am referring to the furries with the black patches round the eyes [all other furries are disqualified]. The other symptom is that they will start blogging rubbish on the web detailing all the gory instances of their pain. Of course whatever they blog will generate as much pain for the reader reading it as it had originated from the blogger.

3 weeks later, these poor afflicted souls will spend 3 hours each alternate weekday working their poor brains to the ground.

Let's observe a moment of silence for the 5 weeks of my youth that I can never hope to recover. Ever.

[moment of silence passes].

And yes, this poor afflicted soul seeks the forgiveness of all on whom the pain has rubbed off.......

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX End of Act 1, written by DRAMA MAMA

;) hee.... I'm crazy i noe...

Refer to tag board about the other 2 posts.