996 done, 1004 to go.

well kids, here's the deal: I'm about halfway through my paper, and it doesn't read like a puddle of mud. Perhaps like a tall, cool class of chlorinated water, but not mud. So...it's not JUST WHAT you always WANTED...but it's good enough.

:D

My brother's girlfriend just called for him. They're talking now.
*sighs*.
I really wanted to call the BOY bass player tonight, but I got all nervous and so I didn't.
*sighs*
Now I have 1004 words left to write about more than half of Alessandro Scarlatti's life.
*sighs*
Oh, woe is me. Boo hoo...boo hoo....boo...aaaaaaaaah whatever. I'll be fine.

The other night I was having a bit of a panic attack, and I started thinking that MAYBE if I could just get injured...crash my car, break my arm, do something requiring stitches...then I wouldn't have to work on the paper. I could get a reasonable extension.

WHAAAAAAAAAAT!?!??!!!

That's insane. But sometimes, and I'm sure most of you will relate, the workload gets so piled up and crazy, that it destruction would seem easier than ploughing through it all, non?

Alright bellas and boys, it's back to my paper I go. I'm too good a driver to crash the car, and who would want to wait for 5 hours in a hospital line-up, just to get a few measly stitches, just to get an extension on a paper you could have finished during the hospital line-up, and in the end...there'd be no scar?

ah ha...long and crazy. That's this post.

bye.