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September 7 Sunday Hiya Diary! Amy here. Our funky friend wanted me to write an entry for �posterity�s sake.� She thinks we will look back on this when we are old and gray and laugh at ourselves. She�ll be laughing alone though, cause I don�t plan to make it past 35. I�ll die scaling the Rockies, or freeze my ass off on Everest. Oooo, I know, I�ll be the first casualty of Fear Factor. Or my roommates will kill me just to get me to shut up. Moving on, Funky told me I had to stop talking about death. It creeps her out. So I guess I will live forever. So will Funky, but she�s gonna get married and have lots of babies cause she�s in loooovvveee. They�ll have a perfect house with a white picket fence. He�ll be a doctor and she�ll be a writer and their kids will have blond hair and blue eyes. Except Funky says that�s not likely since her eyes are dark brown. But it�s my entry, so screw her. How unfair is that, though? We go to the same party, she finds a man and all I got was a hangover. Stupid Crystal and her cheap ass beer. Doesn�t she know a girl needs fine wine and top shelf alcohol? And men, I need plenty of men. Good looking ones too. That make lots of money and buy me pretty things. Sheesh, how does Funky do this all the time? This book is filled with her neat little writing and I can�t even fill up a page. Once upon a time, there was a little squirrel who lived in a park. All the kids loved the little squirrel and he pretended to love them too, but he really didn�t. In fact, he couldn�t stand the little children pulling on his tail, petting his head and rubbing their dirty germs all over him. One day, a little boy decided he wanted to flip his swing over the top bar. The little squirrel watched in fascination as the boy swung higher and higher. The boy was almost over the top when he fell off the swing and broke his arm. The little squirrel stood up on his hind legs, walked over to the boy and said, �Boy, you are fucking nuts!� Ha ha ha ha Get it? Nuts, squirrels ha ha ha Anyway, Funky says I have to quit now before I defile her diary anymore with my craziness. Over and out. Designed by Peyton's Place D-land Click here to read how this page is protected by copyright laws. |