You'll be screaming "No no no", and all they'll hear is "Who wants cake?"

Ugh. No more Nutella sandwiches after midnight.

Also, no more David Spade-hosted comedy shows.

And no more putting off shaving.

No more putting off haircuts, either.

While we're at it, no more putting off doing laundry in favour of watching Michael Moore movies.

I'm not saying, "No more Michael Moore movies," mind you. It's just that every time Bowling for Columbine is on, I forget that I've already seen it, and then it gets to the Dick Clark part and I'm like, Oh yeah, I didn't just dream this. For all its weighty subject matter, for me Bowling for Columbine is no more filling than custard. Odd, that.

No more joking about throwing flaming poo at people's houses, and more throwing flaming poo at people's houses.

No more leaving cd's and dvd's out of place. Today I found the cd which has Shirley Collins' "Space Girl" on it. I thought that'd been stolen years ago! No more attributing the loss of items to crime!

No more blogging tonight. I've got class or something tomorrow.