Ugh. Dreams about ex-girlfriends' apartments and giant vampire bats. You know what would be nice? Not that.

The other day someone at work pointed out that dating is like shopping. I think she was trying to tell me to enjoy the process, but she actually twigged me to a deeper understanding, because I fucking hate shopping. I don't browse, I don't window-shop, fuck that jazz. I like to walk into a store, pick up what I came for, take it to the cash, and get the fuck out in under five minutes. I'm like my dad in that regard, and if shopping is like dating and my father and I share the same problems, I come to wonder exactly why/how I exist. Surely procreation is a game for more patient men.

Fired, Monkey Boy, Fired! I just wonder why it took them so long to cotton on to the "unacceptable conduct." What finally pushed them over the edge? Him molesting a girl half his age and forcing her to carry his filthy man-seed? MUST MY EVERY JOY BE TAKEN FROM ME?!