Dear Diary,


It’s me again. Sorry to intrude on your privacy — I hope you won’t mind if I mark on your pages again — I just have a few short items to sort out this week. I promise I will do my best to try and restore some respect to your integrity, in the days that follow — and by this I mean I will leave you alone. And also, by the way, may I say, Diary, while I am on the subject, that I really do admire the golden edges of your paper. It really does speak volumes to your sophistication and, so in spite of all my selfish scribblings — you really are looking fantastic up there on the old book shelf lately. Really top notch… I just LOVE those deep burgundies you have — and the PLUSH leathers of your face — It’s all just so…just so…so damn impressive — and intimidating, also, I’ll admit. (Moleskin who, right? Who needs all that? Not me that’s who)


Oh, whelp, look at me — there I went again — brown nosing you, as always, Diary. I’m so sorry, Diary. I will…just…get this pity party in motion and I’ll then leave you be. I promise, Diary. I’m sorry.



So, anyway…

This morning I got a text message!

Yeah! A real text message! Well, an automated text message, but it was still pretty exciting when it happened.

It was sent from my bank, actually. The text message was sent to inform me that I had overdrawn from my checking account — and by like, about a hundred dollars (including the overdraft fee). So it was not really such good news — this text message — it was really sort of pretty bad news. Kind of a let down, actually. Still, though, I’ll admit I was expecting it to happen (not the text message part!) — I did have to pay my electric bill, after all, so, I guess you win some, you lose some — I chalk it up as a minor blow. Some people would maybe be somewhat more devastated to receive such news from their bank, but not me, Diary, because I’m a tough guy. I’m grizzled. Or just jaded with life generally. One of the two.

I tried to text KeyBank back, but they didn’t respond. I’ll try again later (just joking!). How about I not do that — right, Diary? KeyBank, ShmeyShmank.


One more note, though, about text messages…

This guy at my work (who I don’t ever talk to but not because I’m afraid to, because I’m not! Diary!) was talking about text messages with this other guy I work with… They were, like, having a conversation, or whatever… But so anyway, though, the one guy’s phone buzzed, and he said, “Oh, I got a text massage.”


Can you believe that, Diary! He said, massage, and not, message. Text massage! Hilarious! It was so effing funny! I laughed for like, a whole minute — literally — for like, 60 seconds, I think. But then I felt sort of uncomfortable.

But that guy is a riot — right, Diary? He’s a real joker. Text Massage. Man, I gotta remember to try that one out, someday. Maybe like, the next time when KeyBank texts me, I’ll text them back and say something like, “Oh, hey, thanks for the text massage, ShmeyShmank!”

Man, that’d be something if I did that…wouldn’t it, Diary?



Well, I won’t bother you for any longer today, Diary. You’ve been a real pal, though. You always are…

I fucking love you, man. Good night, Diary. Peace be with you.



Maybe I’ll tell KeyBank, “Hey, rub my shoulders while you’re at it,” or something like that! You know, just in case they think it was by autocorrect or something, or like, if they think that I just don’t know how to spell the word message, or something like that. You know? Just a thought. Peace out, Diary!



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