This is not my self-expression but rather that of a co-worker in regards to a request to cancel a meeting:
Alas! My calendar has forgotten it ever knew this meeting. Burned its bridge, so to speak.
So nota bene, fair compatriots, today's 2:00 wouldn't voom if you put four million volts through it. It's bleeding demised. It is not pining. It's passed on. This meeting is no more. It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to meet its maker. It's a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. If we hadn't nailed it to the perch it'd be pushing up the daisies. It's off its twig. It's curled up its tootsies, it's shuffled off this mortal coil. It's run down the curtain and joined the bleeding choir invisible. Vis-a-vis the metabolic processes, it's had its lot. All statements to the effect of this meeting is still a going concern are, from now on, inoperative. This is an ex-meeting!
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