Regreso al sexo químicamente puro

My life is not ruled by fast food. It is ruled by micromanaging types. The depression has crept in. Tahoma rears its ugly head. Getting the feeling that if I don't self-medicate the intake valve soon, I might implode, explode, reload and demote. I hate this year. I hate this century. I hate the way your curling iron left a mark on the bathroom counter. I hate the soft curl of hair embedded in the aloe. I hate fast food. Seethe, fuck, seethe, fuck. No love lost.