Dear Diary: I made an entry in my diary today. So, that's about it, I guess, unless you have something to say.
Dear Diary: Today I was crowned king of Sweden. Ha Ha! No, just kidding — it was only a threatening email about impersonating Swedish royalty. More on this later maybe. Gotta go poop right now.
Dear Diary: I don't know which is worse — one thing or the other. Will have to wait and see. Nothing else happening today. Tuesdays are always slow — more so when I can't find my pants anywhere. Hello?
Dear Diary: If I came out publicly as an acorn, would any of the other nuts be jealous? (Asking because I have nothing else to think about at the moment, and this seemed almost like something.)
Dear Diary: Today I turn 42, and with a bit of luck they'll let me leave high school pretty soon now.
Dear Diary: I'd like to take up competitive arm wrestling but I'm still afraid of fingers. Any thoughts? I know you don't have any. Do you? Please say no. Pleeease please.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@gmail.com
Me? Poop on it and see what happens.
