Diary-a.

Stupid fucking Blogger just ate this post so I will retype it even shorter than before, which was short.

I read a bunch of my old journals from 5th grade until college and it was harrowing. I thought I was a smart kid, which lent me an air of smugness. The journals say otherwise. It seems most of the time I was preoccupied with who was having a party and how I'd kill myself if I wasn't invited. And that was last week's entry.

Nigel had the ultimate punishment administered to him last night due to poor behavior the likes of which I have never seen. He was captured, wrapped securely in a towel so that only his head poked out, and then held still on my lap like a baby. This to him was certain death.

I made big noises about how I was going to cook a chicken and artichoke stew during the blizzard. But instead I was lame and made Kraft Shells & Cheese, which I ate out of the pot a la crack den.