Informis Infinitas Inhumanitas

Good morning kids. My hair is wet from a recent shower and it bothers me. Fuck wet hair. I hate the weight of it. I hate the look of it. I hate when it blows in my face when it is wet. I hate when it slaps across my glasses lenses leaving smear marks. My District Sales Manager was at our store yesterday. She was there to give someone the Wine Council of Ontario test. I don't like her. She doesn't like my hair. Haha. She can't say anything though since I am really good at sales. So obviously it isn't affecting my proffessional ability even though I may not look "proffessional". I can that this morning isn't going to be a lengthy blog post. My mind isn't all here right now. I am talking to Will motherfucking Bustin. I refuse to ever tell that man I can't talk to him because I am blogging. I tell other people that all the time. But not Will. Not many people are prettier then this man. Except for me. Maybe. But he is a better drummer. Probably a decent lay. People are so chatty in the park when it is sunny out. Yesterday I was walking around with a glass worth of wine in my water bottle listening to Cattle Decapitation.

Three people I could see that there gums were flapping at me. Of course I did not acknowlege the fact that I saw them trying to talk to me. Maybe they wanted a cigarette. Maybe they wanted wine. Some goths I think tried to comment on my hair. I guess people don't understand yet that I put ear phones in to cut out the world for a bit. That way I can be in the midst of hustle and bistle but be in my own little world and not have my senses teased by what is outside the music. I like the split. I started a Facebook group named "Dead Baby Jokes". For the picture I had a grabage can full of dead fetuses. I got it removed and a warning from Facebook saying next time I violated them in there sleep... I mean violated there terms and agreement they would remove my account. One of the Christians in my friends I am sure reported it. But now I am going to go read the terms and such. See how far to that line I can go without crossing it. I think simulated violence might be OK. But the worse thing to happen is that my account will get deleted. On no. Fuck. How could I go on. It actually wouldn't bother me in the slightest. I try not to let internet things get to me. The only thing that would really make me angry is if my blog got deleted somehow. But who would want to do that? I don't know. But fuck you anyways.