Finals in two weeks, can you tell?

I dearly wish right about now that I wasn't one of those type-A people who go insane if it's not just absolutely fucking perfect. The idea of coasting by with just a pass makes me do monkey tics. BUT I would be attempting to wakeboard in a borrowed thermal wetsuit now instead of trying to figure out whether the histological section is of small intestine or stomach. Life would involve much more alcohol and snogging and dancing in skirts so short they're going the other way and end up as shirts instead. I wouldn't be chained to a tiny 2' by 4' desk where piles of paper containing gory dissection pictures litter the surface. My back aches from hunching voer some shitass lecture. Sex would fix that, but is there nay available sex? Nooooooooooo. Life is so hard.

_______________________________________________

You know the party is going downhill when someone announces cheerfully, "Yeah, I'm circumcised!"

Dead silence.

Then someone else pipes up, with a little bit too much interest, "Really?". He sings along to Mariah Carey. I'm going to keep my eye on that one.
__________________________________________________

Had the shortest love affair with a song ever when I fell madly in love with The Red Jumpsuit's Apparatus' "Face Down" for all of three hours, during which I managed to committ both video and lyrics to burning memory (How come cardiovascular doesn't work the same way?) Am now fickle-y in love with "Your Guardian Angel", because I'm a shallow emo-loving superfreak like that.

So why is that I keep hearing bloody Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend"? Hey hey you you I don't like your girlf-SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!