Ramble ramble ramble, see if I care an iota. Look at my eyelid. No twitches at all. You’re not getting to me a bit. It’s tragic the way you feel you have to save face and keep up with the charade, and I admire you for trying–and look, you just keep on doing it as though you enjoy it as much as I hate it. I’m still not going to give you the satisfaction of knowing you’ve nagged me half to death; I’m just going to nod and smirk, knowing that I won this battle.
WHARVED 