It's a Friday and contrary to The Cure's classic line, I am not in love.

Figuratively, mind you.

This day is bloody stupid. I am being a colossal biggety dipshit considering the fact that so far I have three A's under my belt for the half part of the term and I should be rejoicing like some bastard tripping on acid.

This morning, I spent innumerable hours at the college paper office just so these fools could subject me to an aggravating marathon of Incubus crap. I don't know about you pseudo-surfers scoring facial piercings to pose. I never understood Incubus. I find them too generic. Of course their "hopeless romantic" groupies would argue that Brandon Boyd is edible. There is no arguing about that. However, cuteness doesn't impress me much.

And then this sreaming homo, a companion of another screaming homo, for reasons undeciphered kept on saying, "Coffee" while his face is glued on the comp monitor. I am grinding my teeth. In no time, I will be needing the comfort of my padded cell.

I miss my four-poster at home.