It's 7:21pm, and I'm buzzing around in the vicinity of the fountain soda machine at work. I'm having a pathetic and impossible time remembering the names of everyone who works here. A really nice guy (which is everyone, really) is telling me that he doesn't think his head has a nice enough shape to shave. In a way, this is a compliment, because I'm bald now. When I try to start my own mohawk, and goof it up: bald time. My head feels a lot cleaner now. Hair was really starting to bother me. I wish I didn't chop off that hawk I had before coming out here - it would be incredibly stupid and rambunctious at this point.