Dummy Diary!

I haven't any interest in you anymore dear blog. You were once cool. Very few people had a blog back in the day you were born. Now newspapers wish they were blogs and television newscasters wish they were bloggers. There should be something newer by now -- some other form of communication that should be considered state-of-the-art. I think the next step is a variation of what would be regarded by our feeble primitive minds as telepathy.

I want to make up a name dear blog that when said will really hurt you. I can think of a few. One is flog. It's a variation of the f-word and blog. I know flog is a real word with negative connotations, but nevertheless I want you to associate it more with the word fuck. Other words I want to yell at you are the following: globber, dummy diary, and bloody tampon licker.

Big Bucks! No Whammies!

I read that the host of the gameshow Press Your Luck died two days ago. He and his wife crashed their plane off the Malibu coast. When I read this, I thought that's probably how I'm going to die, especially since I've skipped the past two weeks of ground school.

(Amy's going to say something about me thinking about my probable cause of death. She wouldn't be as disturbed if I said I will probably die in a car accident or by choking or something like that. For some reason though, she really dwells on me flying my way to Kingdom Come.)

Nabisco...

I've decided that Shredded Wheat should be used to mop up oil spills. Just look at the way it soaks up milk in your bowl. It's nature's other sponge (because marine sponges are really the first sponges).