Jen (whose last name is apparently Horton, good to know finally) came and saw me at the gym today because she wanted to see how to wrap her hands for the heavy bag. I like to pretend I know how to do things. It's fun!

I skinned my knuckle something fierce.

Nice girl. Be careful. No Fall 04 again. Fall 04 makes me a sad Panda.

Yes, I know Scott is Panda Scott Panda, I was talking about Sexual Harrassment Panda from South Park.



I have nine (9) job applications out and I had an interview at The Buckle, which is basically an apparel store whose prices lie somewhere between Old Navy and Abercrombie or Hollister. They sell Lucky stuff ($90 for pants, wtfomg) and $80 overshirts (one of which I... erm... already own... ahem) and $18 t-shirts (two of which I own and wear a lot). If they are going to make me wear their shit I'm going to spend all my paychecks on fucking clothes.

Dammit, I said fuck again.

This is one job I hope I DON'T get, but it looks like I might. Maybe if I say "oh, they were so impressed with me that they'll just give me a job now" enough I'll jinx it and I won't get it.

If they make me cut my hair I'll destroy them. It's just starting to get longer and I intend to keep it that way, dammit.

...they probably will.

...in fact, I'm pretty sure they will.

THE GOATEE AND SIDEBURNS STAY. DAMMIT.

...wow, I'm a really, REALLY vain person.

...that wants metal hair.