I realised this morning that i care less about things. It's not because i shouldnt care about them. Lord knows i should. But my distinct lack of empathy is really starting to worry some people. They might perceive me to be a sociopath, which i am not. I hate people, but not that much. I do prefer animals though. At least they dont force their conscience to disagree with something that they otherwise would condone.

After drinking this weekend, a group of friends, men and women, tried to convince me to be a he-bitch, a man whore, a midnight cowboy.Whilst the thought, initially seemed appealing, i couldnt help but think of the decrepid wretches i would have to satisfy. I am not one to have sex with women who are far too old to know what to do with their money. Sure, semi young professionals who are bored at home might be fun, even the so called yummy mummy, but dried up figs are not exactly my idea of a great night out. Sure the money might be great, but money is something i can get without having to resort to that. Still, they persist. It's not an uncommon discussion when it comes to my life. Perhaps i just hang around a strange circle of people. Or perhaps i let off that aroma of exchanging sex for money, whatever that aroma may be.

I hate salespeople. They persistently peddle their crap around here. If a salesperson doesnt come in at least once a day, then i have a good day. Alas, those days are few and far between. So, far from being deterred by my pissed off demeanour and mountains of paperwork flung around the office, they insist that just 1 minute of my time, which ends up being an hour. Which in turn means i will not touch their company with a ten foot dildo because they have annoyed me for an extended period of time. And its persistant annoyances. Buy this, try this, we can do good prices for this. Can you do a good price for serious reconstructive surgery after i pummel your face with a pallet of reinforced concrete? Didnt think so.

I should get the steelfixer to bend them over a table and roger them.