Washed-up is the new black

Dear diary,

Even though I'm 50, I still look damn hot. H-O-T-T. Look at me! I fake tan every week! My arms have less fat than a stalk of celery! I weigh less than a bag of dog food!

Don't you like the way my hair looks like Barbie's? But if Barbie's was even more fake than synthetic. And my heels? Look how shiny they are! And this bag that I had to fight my daughter for? She has good taste, that girl. She always wants to get the same clothes as me. But I look better in them, because of my boob job.

Have to go not eat some more food now!

Love,
The older woman that's trying too hard to look young

Your mom's a server

Dear diary,

These people I work with annoy me. They're always calling me about their stupid problems. Wah wah wah, the server's not working, wah, my computer crashed, wah, I can't burn this CD. Why do they keep telling me this? Oh yeah, because it's my job.

They're so dumb. One girl kept telling me the server was down, and I told her it was her fault, but she didn't laugh. So I told her to move so I could show her how she was wrong, and then I asked her why she has so many pens on her desk. She didn't answer. She got really mad when I told her that I didn't believe that the server was down. I mean, yeah, the server was down, but she didn't have to be so mean about it when she told me. God. What a bitch.

Instead of rebooting the server, I just went and sat in my office and drank coffee. When they asked me about the server again, I said that I didn't do anything about it, but in that joking way to make them think that I did. But I didn't. I am so funny.

You're WELCOME,
The Company Computer Guy

From the Book of GoldDigger

Dear diary,

In thy name diary, I do not know what to say today. When the Holy God gave man the power of free will, I never thought they would go to such sinister levels.

Take thee example, diary, of the folksy musician Kanye West. He hast made many missteps in the past, but never of this ungodly manner. He hast posed on the cover of a bound periodical as myself, the Son of Christ. And that, lordly diary, is too much.

Yet I am oddly flattered, diary. Mr. West is such a figure of greatness, it is pleasing that he should choose to emulate me.

And he is correct in one thing, diary. George Bush does hate black people.

Amen.

In my own holy name,
Jesus

I'm fired up, all right

Dear diary,

I am so pissed. That Gwen Stefani is dead. She keeps talking shit about me on the radio. I don't know why, it's not like I did anything to her.

So I asked her what the hell was her problem. She said she heard me talking shit, but I told her I don't even know her, why would I talk shit about her? Bitch. I said, we're going out to the bleachers after 5th period today, no principals or student teachers.

I got my knife and went out to the field, and she's got this whole band behind her and all these Japanese chicks! She was wearing a leotard for some reason, and carrying one of those crazy ass baton things, like for a marching band.

I was ready to cut her, but then she started talking about shit and bananas, and then those Asian girls started spelling things like some sort of shit ass spelling bee. One of those girls kicked me in the head and I went down. Gwen drove off in a Mustang singing.

If I ever see her again, her shit will be bananas.

I know how to spell "bananas" bitch,
Hollaback Girl

Double True

Dear diary,

I DO have all the bomb frostings. I got a baker's dozen, bitches.

Word,
Magnolia Bakery

Supercalimuthafucka!

Dear diary,

Today, I was going to buy some more copies of angsty literature so I could hate mainstream America some more, when I discovered that Mary Poppins herself was having a booksigning at the store. I couldn't get through because of all her stupid fans, I actually had to wait in line. I sighed a lot to get people to move around me, but they were entranced by Julie Andrews' British accent (probably fake).

So I was pissed, and decided to make fun of Poppins, because I'm angsty and I can. I gave her a spoonful of sugar, hell to the yeah.

Me: Julie Andrews?
Julie Andrews: Yes?
Me: (smirking) The Princess Diaries 2? Seriously?
Julie: (shrugging) Sista's gotta eat.
Me: But it has Anne Hathaway in it. Come on.
Julie: Look, you cheeky lass. I can't live on The Sound of Music residuals forever.
Me: Girl, please. That movie was like Glitter meets Gigli.

OMG, she was mad when I said that. She stood up, and she slapped me!

Julie: Chim chimerie this!

I fell backwards and landed on top of someone's vanilla latte on a table. I got coffee and Splenda all over my black coat. By the time I got up, Mary Poppins was being whisked away by security. I wasn't about to let her get away with this, so I yelled, "The hills are alive with the sound of pain, bitch!"

Sigh,
Whiny Girl

LMAO

Dear Diary,

I'm growing up so quick these days! Seems like only yesterday people were using me just for AOL and chat rooms, and now they've got blogs and MySpace and all sorts of interesting things! I tell you diary, I just can't keep up anymore!

But there is one that is so great, I just have to tell you all about it. It's this blog where these two crazy bitches write imaginary diaries from random people. It's so funny! I giggle when I read it. I'd pay to read funny shit like this, diary.

Well, time to go spread some more rumors and illegally download music.

:P,
"The Internet"

You can't handle the truth

Dear diary,

Today we started the deprogramming for Kate (I had her name changed to Kate, by the power of Scientology vested in me). We had her in the chamber for awhile, so I went and polished my large, Chiclet-esque teeth while they erased all her memories of her past life, including Dawson's Creek. That show promotes psychology, which is the devil.

I told Kate we should name the spawn Elrondia if it's a girl, and Elrondre if it's a boy. She started to say something, but then I Tasered her and gave her the little yellow pills. She'll be fine when she comes to in a couple of hours.

I love how Kate towers over me like a giant. I think she's about seven feet tall, but she said she's 5'7". She said I was just short. I didn't believe her (if I believe I'm tall, I must be tall), but then she showed a tabloid paper where it said that I'm like a gay midget with a laugh like a donkey. Newspapers are so glib.

I should call Kirstie Alley and John Travolta to see if they want to go to the underground lair with me (even though the lair doesn't really exist, forget I said that diary).

Got to go, diary of genius. Time to go look at the Spawn of Greatness with that sonogram I bought. Doctors have no idea what they're doing. They're so glib.

Brooke Shields can suck it,
Tom Cruise

P.S. Stop being so glib, diary.

OMG

Dear diary,

Why do people keep honking at me? Is it because I'm going 55mph in the left lane? Why did that guy flip me off? I just changed lanes without signaling, so what? It's a free world. Besides, I was on a really important call. I had to reschedule my manicure.

I really wish people would just recognize that I am driving a Firebird and can do whatever I want.

LYLAS,
Annoying Teenager

Fabulous

Dear Diary,

I don't know why girls don't want to date me. I'm a nice guy. I get manis and pedis. I'm clean. I treat them with respect, just like I would my mother, whom I adore.

Those new pants I bought at Express for Men are great. They are kinda tight, but the salesman said they're supposed to be that way. He also caressed my arm and asked where I hang out. I didn't answer because I was too busy staring at my own reflection.

Ooh, a Red Apple Sale! Gtg, diary! Ttyl!

Love,
The Guy in the Closet But Doesn't Know It

Everyone wants to jump me

Dear Diary,

I am so cool. Every woman here wants to have sex with me. I think it's because I ordered my espresso with extra foam, hell to the yeah. Look at me, pretending to look at The New York Times. Chicks think it's cool to read newspapers.

I wonder if I should buy that overpriced mug. My hair looks good gelled back like this. I should pretend to talk on my cell phone so everyone knows how cool I am. I bet if I stare at that girl long enough, she'll have sex with me.

Creepily,
The Weird Guy at Starbucks