When hate is your friend, you find you don't need any others.

I'd like to say that I've gotten my Internet back, and that in my somewhat short absence I've dilligently begun a fourth IBC.

Alas, neither is true.

I'm at the library again, with lots of little kids running around doing their absolute best to be as annoying as possible. It horrifies me to think that I was once one of them. Well, okay, I'm using "one of them" kinda lightly. I was never normal by any standards. Ah well. I'm forever wierd.

I just can't believe how many there are.

Heh.

A group of twenty or so just walked in. It makes me think that the parents of this town are inheriting rabbit breeding characteristics. Damn all of them, for being the cause of my annoyance.

Anyway.

I applied to my Beloved Best Buy the other day. Somehow I get the impression that I'm going to find it difficult to get a job there. I think their looking for someone with an eerie sense of cheerfulness and sociability-of which I have neither. But hey, I can bullshit pretty well. That doesn't mean I'm going to be a fountain of happiness and joy, but I can pretend that speaking to someone isn't grating on my very being.

Heh. I don't know if it's just me, but this blog post that was supposed to be all suave and cool sounding is turning out to be a veritable disaster. Fucking kids.

I blame them.

All of them.