a lifespan with no cellmate

so i'm sitting at my computer trying to pound out some stupid 'vision quest' which is basically my goals and missions for my professional future. it's ending up being a rather large serving of shit with a side of poo. i'd rather be in ibiza at some foam party dancing with carlos d to paul oakenfold, who i imagine would be sweaty, and sipping on some manly drink behind the decks.

i wish i had some interesting story to tell, but sadly my life is one endless train of benign events which are basically excuses for me not to do homework. for example, afternoons wasted watching tlc, free beer nights (friday - huzzah!) and laundry. hopefully friday will produce an interesting chain of events, as i plan to round up the posse and get thoroughly dirrty.

the final countdown is on for the end of the term. looking forward to flying home and being waited on by subservient parents for about half a day until they realize i'm lazy and make me get off the couch and get my own damn diet pepsi. ooh, how i'm looking forward to that half-day of glorious relaxation. i'm also looking forward to getting gloriously caught up on my shopping, half-cut on cosmopolitains, and two hour soaks in the bathtub. why can't life constantly consist of such luxury? perhaps such luxury can only be acheived by me flying to england and hunting down robbie williams. not only is he cute, bad-ass and rich, but he has slept with four out of five spice girls. now that's interesting.