Partying is Such Sweet Sorrow

i don't want to sing... and i don't want to rhyme... and i most certainly don't want to sing any of my rhymes...
i don't want to click/scan/mail any pictures... and i don't want to come up with any creative titles
i don't want daily updates and minute by minute schedules in my inbox
i don't want to listen to anyone's goodbye speeches... and i don't want to fill out any more testimonials... i don't care what people want to say about me to me... either that or i don't want to care... same difference
if i have to eat one more piece of sethi's chocolate trufle (how does one spell that word??) cake i'm going to puke

i wish IM and her army of annoying hyper-excited and compulsively-enthu trolls would just quit trying to 'involve' me and just leave me ALONE

... damn i needed that. i suppose after 5 straight years in the brown pastures of North Campus such things are bound to happen.
either that, or my sudden bouts of curmudgeon-liness are a sign of age. i prefer not to think about that

the end