I hate being interrupted. When I’m talking about something, I get into a momentum, and interruptions lose all the momentum. It doesn’t matter what I’m talking about or how comfortable/uncomfortable I am talking about it. To me, it’s like trying to tell a joke then being told to wait five minutes right before the punchline. Although someone may remember the first part, the momentum just dies, and I’d rather just forget the whole thing than finish talking.

I hate how transparent people can be. Let me guess…you want to impress this girl, you want to talk about yourself, you want some of my fries, you think that girl has a nice ass, you love your reputation as a character, you want me to listen to this song.

I only consider it transparent when these people never actually say what they think or what. It’s not like they begin with, “I only act this way around you cause I want in your pants”, or “I don’t really care about you but I’ll let you speak first so I can have my turn later”, or “I want some of your fries so I keep asking about how good they are so you’ll offer me some”, or “You’re hot so I’m going to stare”, or “I want a crazy reputation so I’m going to act crazy”, or “I want to be the one who introduced you to this song”.

I’ve been told that I’m very transparent when it comes to people I don’t like, and hopefully that’s the only case for me. I generally won’t go around telling people that I hate them, but I’d rather someone know than not know. That way they won’t waste their time with me and I won’t waste my time with them.

Things would certainly be a lot better that way.

I come across so many people who love to talk about themselves, their life stories, what they saw on TV the other day, how nice their manicures are…every single boring thing possible. Half the time it’s just venting, getting out what pisses them off or what unfortunate stroke of luck befell them. Sometimes, I feel like telling these people about how easy it is to have a blog. That way, they can still get things off their chest, and save me the time of having to listen to their boring shit. Unless someone is a friend, I don’t care. What is it about me that makes it seem as if I give a fuck? Why do people think they’re so important that anyone would be interested in anything they have to say? It’s not like I start talking about every little thing that pisses me off, because I know that it’s boring and I’m aware that no one cares.

Thank god I have this.

Fuck bad day. This is going to be a bad fucking week. The only saving grace is that I can come home and hang out with Trolley every day.

Maybe I’m just in a bad mood because of lack of sleep. I can’t think straight, I can’t concentrate, I can’t remember things, I can’t do shit. Can’t get my fucking freezer moved. It’s raining and I just washed these pants. Remembered my drywall putty in my 16th floor room when I stepped outside on the cement. Couldn’t find pics for a post on the drool material over at Tristan. Where did my redhead of choice in the pin-striped suit go? Have to completely clean the old apartment after work. It’s time for some In Utero. I could really go for some super sweet, super creamy, real coffee right now.

It’s a hoodie day. An oversized BR hoodie day.

I hate cheap, selfish, inconsiderate people who piss me off so much that I can’t sleep and it causes my hate to build up again.