Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.

Believe it or not, that is an actual, genuine grammatically correct sentence. And because you probably don't believe me - like I didn't believe it when I first read it - I went and found out WTF it's supposed to mean.

Now. There are three meanings of the word 'buffalo'. A noun, a proper noun and a verb. One is the animal [noun], one is the city in America [proper noun] and the third is the less-known word for 'intimidate' or 'bully' [verb].

The plural for buffalo is, like sheep and fish, just buffalo. But for the sake of simplicity I'll call it buffaloes or this won't make much sense.

The first 'Buffalo' refers to the city [notice the capitalisation of the PROPER NOUN], the second refers to the animal; Buffalo buffalo, ie buffaloes from Buffalo.

The third and fourth are also the city and the animal respectively. The fifth is 'bully'.

So so far, we have Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo, meaning 'buffaloes from Buffalo that buffaloes from Buffalo bully'. In other words, in a population of buffaloes, there are some buffaloes that bully other buffaloes within the population. Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo. The capitalisation of the first and third buffalo is a hint here.

The sixth buffalo means bully, and the seventh and last are the city and the animal.

Now we have Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo [ie, from what we worked out before, buffaloes from Buffalo that buffaloes from Buffalo bully] bully buffaloes from Buffalo. Here, we have a human-like situation; bullies that bully people because they get bullied. Make's 'em feel big. Lulz. Anyway.

SO. Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo could be re-written as:

Buffaloes from Buffalo, that buffaloes from Buffalo bully, bully buffaloes from Buffalo.

Another example of this same sentence could be: if you replace the city with Manchester, the animal with dog and bully as itself, the sentence would be:

Manchester dogs that manchester dogs bully, also bully manchester dogs.

In other words, the dogs in manchester [the ones that get bullied by other dogs in Manchester], they themselves bully other dogs from manchester.

In conclusion, Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.

Is this, or is this not THE most genius sentence in the world?!?!!? YUS I DO THINK SO.

Oh the long, beautiful days of summer.

I can never tell what that gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach is. It could be down to a whole load of things, which I will cleverly and conveniently list here:

• Exams - I only have one left but I'm still terrified of what's going to happen with it. Chemistry is a wonderful subject. This exam however, may well be the end of my life as I know it.
• Results - I've done four of my five summer '10 exams. D1, C4, Biology and M2. [funny how the vast majority of my exams are always maths ones, yet I'm never going to need any maths whatsoever, ever during my life at med school. Well, other than the ability to count to ten when giving injections.
• No more college - my college days are officially over. Which also means that any authority I've ever had [class rep, health ambassador, teacher's pet etc][for once, I'm not actually joking about the teacher's pet thing... freaky]
• Summer holidays - *utter screams of delight* I want to call them honeyed hours. Why? Because they're going to be sweet, slow, sickly, bright and will make me very thirsty. Does that appeal to anyone else? Hah. Love it.
• People - I'm not sure about this one. Ever get this scratching feeling in your guts when you think about someone? I'm not talking about like... lovey-dovey icky sickening crap or anything. Just.. I dunno, it's kinda hard to explain. Like recently I've got back in touch with a lot of people and whenever I think about it I kinda get this feeling that says 'this is what happened, you'll never see it again, it's all memories'. Think of it this way. When you fill a hole in the ground with concrete, if a bug or a leaf or something falls into the cement mix, it'll be there forever. You'll never find it again unless you dig up the concrete and smash it to bits. In fact, you might not even know what you're looking for. And if you do find it, whatever it is, it'll be dead. Does that not frighten you? Or is it just me?

All these seem like pretty plausible explanations. But it could just be as simple as I haven't been to the gym for about three months and I'm absolutely gagging for it.