honor thy whore

Maybe I changed my diary page cause I was bored but mostly it’s because it was time. You know, time to shift around things that happen and stuff inlife including your diary layout.

I don’t care if you like it cause it’s not for you and I don’t care if you read this cause it’s not for you either and maybe if more reallife people knew of my diary I would never write. just sit in front of the screen and try and think of words that will be pleasing for everyone. yet right here there is few reallife people. a few. flew. a flew is a part of dog, the cheek. they should just call it a cheek it would be less confusing.

At the training center it’s not really a training center but a full functioning grooming salon with lots of people. I don’t talk to anyone and I try to do my work quietly until I can return to my comforting, home salon. They are all women and they talk about their dogs like their children and when they go on lunch they all go together. Sometimes I sit on the vaccume by the door to avoid being in the way. Sometimes I go in the back and fill shampoo bottles to stay away from the voices, and instead I hear high pitch barks and loud ass dryers. I keep to myself and look at the ground and today a very large manager named Amy said “you don’t say much do you?” and it reminded me of so many movies.

Why does everyone feel obligated to speak all the time? Wouldn’t work run much smoother without all the fucking chatting?

ah, futile worries I know.

The girlfriend has a new job as the head chef of a restaurant that hasnt yet open. It’s a cuban place and she seems somewhat excited about the new career endeaver. She gets up early and comes home late and sometimes we’re smitten and sometimes we aint.

I’ve been drinking a lot more than I usually do. If I wake up and it’s my day off I drink and I drink and I realized not too long ago that I always try and reach this buzz that I never do attain. I never get drunk enough to forget but I always get drunk enough to say something memorable. I don’t know what I’m trying to find with my constant intoxication but I am not quite finding it I’m just feeling wasted. In every sense of the word.

The oily haired chick asked me to make her a collage and she even said she’d pay me. I told her she didn’t have to cause I like making collages and so I did that for her tonight and it was funtimes. I wish to moons and heavens and all the stupid shit that people would pay me every day of the week to sit on the living room floor in front of the latest six feet under disk and paste down magazine photos until I cant move my hand. Since grooming school I’ve learned the correct way to hold scissors and scissor straight lines and I have surely seen an improvement in my cutting. haha, cutting. Not only that, constantly using scissors has improved both my collaging and my grooming. funny how things happen. not funny haha just funny queer like I’m gay and want to make out with your hetero girlfriend.

I’ve been writing a lot outside the tee oh dee circuit meaning on wordpad even though I have microsoft word I don’t like it how it points out all my mistakes. Its like my grandma or something.

I’ve been wearing my hair back and washing my face twice a day and wearing shoes from the moment I wake up till the moment I go to bed. I’ve been hating the way people talk to each other but mostly the way they talk to me. I scored a bookshelf from the dumpster and the third roommate is still a large piece of animal shit.

I drive in my honda with a portable radio I bought for ten dollars from target. It only works when I’m driving north. My car over heated today and I couldn’t drive to my anthropology class.

I got rolling stone in the mail today and I don’t recognize the racey woman on the cover the same as I don’t recognize anything beyond my rightnow. the whole myopic thing, remember? god damn if my armani classes don’t cause me more trouble than my fucking insurance company.

ahhh, pinkie finger always on that fucking backspace button and still nothing worth it to say.