This crazy woman came in today. I can never understand what she says, and I don't think she can either. She was looking over the counter trying to ask me and my coworker what we were making and completely misunderstanding.
Spring break is this week. What the fuck am I supposed to do with two days of neither work nor school? I guess I could do homework. Or dick around on the Internet. Or sleep. Or eat. Totally procrastinate, like everyone else. Who wants to do research for a paper on a day off? Luckily one of my roommates has a bunch of books relating to the subject I'm doing, so I probably won't have to go to the library. Hopefully.
We were coming home on the bus tonight and these guys all got on together. Holy god, they must have bathed repeatedly in some ritual convoluted cleansing to reek that much of cologne. Perfume is one thing, in moderate doses, but cologne is very easily taken advantage of. I don't know why, either. I always prefer my men to smell like men, not poncey assholes. I admit, there are men who can pull off a bit of manufactured scent, but the rest who attempt it fail.
So why can't Chuck Palahniuk write anything as good as Fight Club? I've read all his other fiction (except Survivor, for some reason) and it always falls short, like he's using the exact same formula, but really reaching when it comes to subject matter. Haunted came close, but none really made my little wheels turn. Many would disagree with me on this issue, but c'moooon. Fight Club just has that something that hits you and makes you see things and feel things and taste the blood from the hole in your cheek.
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