Tuesday, June 05, 2007
The End of Exile
As a preteen, I wrote in my diary obsessively. In its pages, I worked out some pretty tough stuff (Why doesn't Wade Desroches like me? Will I ever get boobs? Who shot Mr. Burns?). These past few days, unable to leave the house, I've returned to my old ways. I think I feel better. Or maybe I've got a buzz going.
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7 comments:
I cannot wait to read this innermost desires of yours. har har har
H YOU IS FANTASTIC!
Huh-huh, your posting had words like "boobs", "extend", and "stick" that a less mature person would find funny.
Seriously, though, well done!
Dr X
How can you forget Dial-A-Bottle's number? You've got the tattoo.
Well there you go. You really do learn something new everyday! I have been so busy with the whole consuming of the bottle's contents thing to ever notice there was a number to call on the label.
I assume you got the boobs.
Did you ever find out who shot Mr. Burns?
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