One thing about this weekend... I ended up hanging out with a lot of teenagery-types - don't ask why - and there's whole generation of people out there who talk like they're in an Aussie soap.
It must be a syndrome, then. Sorry, Syndrome. Terminal Sentence Questioning Syndrome. Or something. I know that someone, somewhere, out there, must have written about this. The whole thing implies a sense of constant questioning and no fixed facts that scares me.
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