Sorry for not writing in a while, guys. It's been so crazy. Let me start from the beginning. I barely escaped the explosion holding my half-dead laptop (named Craig) under my arm. I dodged the shrapnel very strategically taking a hit to the arm, and to the schnozz (and I'm talking about my nose) I found a quiet place under a tree away from all the chaos back at the race track. I took a look at Craig. This looked bad. He looked very very pale. Oh wait. That's just the laptop color. Never mind. "Craig! Speak to me, Craig! Don't die on me, man. We've been through too much together." Craig coughed a little. He whispered something I couldn't understand. "I can't hear you Craig."
"Maybe it would help if you got off my face."
"Oh. Right. Sorry." I got off his face and listened intently.
"Come closer." I leaned in a little bit. "Closer." I leaned in a little more. "Not that close, you sicko! I gotta be able to breathe!"
"Just tell me what you have to say!"
"I'm not gonna make it. You're gonna have to go on without me."
"No, Craig. I'm not leaving you. We've been through too much together. Besides, I need some, uh, files from you. I'm not leaving you!!!!"
"What, your Girls Gone Wild files? Relax. They're all saved on a disc hidden under your bed."
"Really? Well in that case, see ya!"
I said goodbye for the last time when I heard a noise. I looked behind the tree and found the eighty-year-old gay man still goin at it. "Do you mind? You're ruining our touching heart-felt moment!" He didn't seem to understand, so I just shattered his jaw with my laptop and took off. I was on my way home to look for my "files."


We're not even close to being done with the story, but I will have to finish later. You see, I'm hiding from the mayor in my uncle Eddy's basement. And THE CROWS ARE COMING. I'll get back to you if I make it out alive.

Okay. First of all, I just gotta give props to Diomedes for helping me write this. (I love ya, man.) This is probably my best entry. Although I still love how dramatic I get when I first arrive to the wheelchair race. That one's pretty sweet too. Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks to Diomedes. I can't put something this awesome down without giving him the credit. Here we go! Enjoy!

Oh, P.S. correct me if I input any of this wrong, Diomedes. Reading your handwriting is like trying to piece together 5 tan puzzle pieces that are spread out all over Africa. I think I got most of it right. And I also hope you don't mind that I put in a couple little things of my own. I mean come on. Mr. Pastrami's secretary has to be named Bernice. Anywayz, here we go!



As I watched the nuke in all its glory, I knew I had to do something and quick. So I recalled my countless years of training and the primerib I had last Thursday. AND I WENT SUPER SAIYAN!!! In my awesomeness I stopped time for about 3 hours(The power of the cheez-its). I first went over to the nuke and drew a big smiley face on it with the caption "Have a Nice Day!" I then had to move Lightning Adams and the nuke about a mile in front of me(because explosions usually kill). Due to his defribrilater I knew that Lightning Adams would take the brunt of the explosion. After that I still had time for a coffee break. Then time started again. They realized I was tryin to escape, so they released the attack dogs. The rottweilers in the lowrider showed up. They came rollin round the corner with their theme song boomin and their hydraulics goin. This race was getting out of hand. There was a nuke about to go off, rottweilers in a lowrider(they had mean looks on their faces and so did the hot dogs they were eating), and there was an eighty-year-old gay man dry humping a tree on the sidelines. It was time to call Mr. Pastrami. So I whipped out my cell phone and dialed *9. "Pizzahut. Can I take your order?" DARN IT! TOO MANY DARN NUMBERS INSTALLED IN HERE...
So I screamed, insulted his mother, hung up and dialed *8(they're both on speed dial). "Mr. Pastrami's office. This is his secretary Bernice. How may I help you?" I reply "I'd like a rescue and a meatball sub." She replied "We'll get that to you right away sir." "Make it a 10-inch. This is a big job." "Of course, Sir. Goodbye." Oh glorious day! I knew everything would be all right when I heard Mr. Pastrami's signature theme song "Doo doo doo!!!!" Little did I knew that somewhere in that mess the rottweilers had slipped a floppy drive into my laptop and killed it. I was able to temporarily reboot my laptop so that I don'
           *signal loss*

Well, I wet my pants in the process but that was the coolest race I've ever been in! Actually, it's the only race I've ever been in. Oh, wait. No. There was that time when I was four and my mom bought us tricycles for Christmas and I tried racing my older brother. But a flock of condors flew in and pecked my eyes. I was kind of unlucky that year. Anyway, back to the wheelchair race. We were ready to go. All we were waiting for was for Grandma Betty to drop the flag. It took an extra 2 minutes because we had to wait for her arthritis spasms to calm down so she could actually move her fingers in order to drop the flag. Wait.....That's not a flag! It's a bra! I swear that lady's eyesight gets worse and worse every day. Anyway, she finally dropped the flag and we were off. Me and Lightning Adams were neck-in-neck. The original plan was for me to use the wheelchair to escape, but after he used his hydraulics, it became personal. I wanted to beat him before I escaped. I hit the nitrous and began to pull ahead. That's when he played dirty. He hit a button and out popped six rockets. Curse him. He shot all six of them at once. I recongnized them immediately. Heat seeking. Perfect. I hit the button and launched the flairs. It attracted every single one. Immediately the sky above us was full of beatiful colors of fireworks which were so bright and violent they gave half the patients on the sidelines siezures. But that didn't matter. What mattered was me running Lightning Adams into the ground. If he plays dirty, I PLAY DIRTY. I hit the big red button next to the throttle. Champagne. Just what I needed. I took a swig, through the glass onto the ground and pushed the blue button. Out popped the machine gun turret. Full auto. Pretty soon I was shooting the crap out of the course. But Lightning Adams was too quick for me. He dodged every single bullet effortlessly. How did this guy do it? So I upgraded. Grenade launcher. He just whipped out a hockey stick and lobbed them right back at me. This dude was prepared for everything! I tried everything I had. Nothing worked. Not even the pahranas. So I had to get creative. I looked around and observed my surroundings. It was kind of hard to see anything while going just under 200 miles per hour. That's when I noticed all the plants that bordered the course. So I reached out and ripped off a branch. Okay. So far so good. So what did I do next? I shoved it into the spokes of his wheel! He was going down! Hooray! That's when I realized my mistake. I could see it plain as day. Out of everything he could have been doing at that moment, he was arming his nuke. And as he flipped over and headed toward the ground, that seemed to be the one thing that was going to cushion his fall. Oh crap. This sucks.

I woke up at 6:00 this morning and looked outside. Hazy. Perfect. I put on my racing suit and helmet. (Well, actually I had the nurse put them on. I'm still paralyzed.) Red and black. Just my color. I was wheeled outside where I upgraded to an electric wheelchair so I could do it myself. When the stakes are this high, you can't trust anyone. I looked over to see Lightning Adams zipping up his racing suit while his pit crew checked the tires. He looked over, put in his dentures, and gave me the evil eye. I just flipped him off and checked the guages and controls. Flawless. That's when I heard a noise. Ah. So Lightning Adams was trying to psych me out with his customized wheelchair hydraulics, eh? Well I had tricks up my sleeve as well. I had removed the muffler earlier that morning, so I just revved the motor. Ear-piercing loud. Lightning Adams was deaf, so he didn't hear it. So I went to plan B. I flipped on the spinners. Have you ever noticed how sexy crimson red and silver look together on rims? That got a reaction out of him. I saw his eyes widen just a teeny bit as he flipped on his oxygen supply. It was time to race. A burnette walked to the middle of the road carrying the hankerchief that would signal go. She had on high heels, a belly shirt, and short shorts. I did a double take when I realized it was my grandmother. It was dead silent except the intimidating noise of our wheelchairs rolling up to the starting line. "WHIIIIIIIIRRRRRRR!" That, and the sickening sounds of my Great Uncle Eddie in the back hacking up phlem. We put on our helmets and put our hands on the throttle. It was time to race...........Oh crap. I forgot to pee before I came out.

Well this sucks. I did succeed in breaking my neck. I just didn't completely snap it. I'm just paralyzed now. So I'm back in the same dumb hospital room with the same dumb nurse. Man, she just can't take a joke. She was being especially rough with me when she was adjusting me pillows. But I couldn't feel it! Ha ha, sucker! So I need a new plan. Maybe I'll try to escape when we hold wheelchair races tomorrow in the East Wing. I'd better get some rest. I'm going up against Lightning Adams. He may be 90, but that dude can go like a rocket. He's insane! So I'll get my rest. Wish me luck.

Hey! I'm not in prison! Ha ha! Good thing I'm random. I was testifying in court when I threw a smoke bomb at the judge and dove out the window and took a bus to Cancun. It's sweet here! Well it was. Until I drank the water. I'm in the hospital now throwing up every seven minutes. I aimed for the nurse, but she's got the reflexes of a cat. She must get people like me often. Wait. Here she comes................Ha! I got her! Oh crap she's pissed. Hey. What's that! OH NO! NOT THE PADDLE! MY REAR IS STILL SORE FROM LAST TIME! NOT THE PADDLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Wait. Window dive! All right! Ha, sucker! Oh. I'm kinda on the 5th floor. So I guess I'll get back to you when I wake up from my concussion. I'd really like to die right now. Well, I'm going to hit the ground in a minute. Ooh! I'll land on my head and try to snap my neck! Ha ha! So I geuss this is goodbye! It's been fun!

I'm home! Okay, so the scary neighbor man came downstairs and pulled out a machete as long as my leg. He held it right up to my neck until I could feel the coldness of the bad on my neck. He started to mumble something. His breath smelled like blood. "I have an important question for you...." I started to sweet profusely. My blood ran cold as I silently cried thinking this was the end. I knew I was going to die so I figured oh what the heck, I'll cooperate. "Okay. What do you want?" I asked, my voice shaky and my eyes full of tears. The silence that followed seemed like hours. He pressed the blade just a teeny bit closer, not close enough to cut my skin but close enough that I had trouble breathing. If he moved any closer I would instantly be spilling gallon upon gallon of blood. That's when he asked his question. "What setting do I use on the washer if I'm just washing some boxers?" Phew. I felt so much relief just then. Until I realized....crap. I didn't know. I just made something up on the spot and hoped he would buy it. "Oh, you uh, set it to uh, Swiss Nelson. I felt the grip on the blade loosen. "What?" "Yeah, you know. Swiss Nelson. Stick in a capful of tide and watch it work its magic." (Swiss Nelson? I know it's pathetic, but you don't expect me to know this crap, do you? I've never touched a washer a day in my life.) "Hmm. It sounds like a likely story. But I'd better go check and make sure you're not making this up." Oh crap. Well, I'm screwed. He left the room. I heard him upstairs fumbling in the washroom. I heard a door slam, the press of a button, and the washer starting. Then he came back downstairs. "Oh! Okay! I was wondering what the Swiss Nelson button was for. Thanks!" What? That's actually a setting? Where in the crap did this dude get his washer! Oh well. He unchained me and led me to the front door. I was in the doorway when I heard a loud beeping sound. "Oh! Washer is done!" Wow. That's quick and convenient. He skipped away merrily to check his precious unmentionables. I could hear him whistling zippety-doo-dah in the other room and the washer door opening. Then the whistling stopped. It was completely dead silent. Oh crap. Well, I'd best be going! I started to tiptoe out the door. It was still completely silent. I got pretty far from the house, but not far enough to break into a dead run. I took two more steps when I heard someone sprinting towards me. I looked back to see him running towards me with a bloody chainsaw in hand. "IT TURNED MY BOXERS PINK! YOU MUST PAY!!!!!!!!!!!" He lunged at me unleashing a blood-curdling scream that could have awakened my dead dog Skippy (had I not dug him up and eaten him during the six-week blizzard of '89) My brain froze. (It always happens at the most inconvenient times, doesn't it?) I had no idea what to do. So I stood there. And waited to feel myself being cut in half. He would have gotten me if I had kept running a couple feet. He judged my distance wrong landed directly to the left of me. Idiot. He faceplanted into his petunias and didn't move. So I bolted (after calling him a ripoff artists and kicking him in the shin) toward the nearest bus stop and took it to Milwaukee. So that's where I am now. Sitting in a cheap 25 dollar apartment. My neighbor welcomed me by bring me a platter of freshly-baked brownies. I can't trust anyone anymore so I smashed the brownies in his face and performed a Northern Lights Piledriver on him before pushing his unconcious body down the stairs. I'm locked in the bathroom now. The hotel security is using an axe to get through the door so I will get back to you once I get my prison sentance.

Dear diary,
I am locked in the scary neighbor man's basement. He allowed me to bring my laptop. He thinks it will make the process less painful. He feeds me gruel twice a day. I am naked chained to the wall right now. I am typing this with my toes. Dang! I'm doing pretty good! Ha ha! So maybe this is it. Goodbye, world!

Dear diary, today I made friends with the scary neighbor man that lives next door. He broke through my window looking for some antibiotics. Then he stabbed my teddy bear schmee and had to run away because he remembered he skettios were still on the stove. At about midnight I saw strange lights on and heard screams. He invited me over for tea tomorrow. I'll let you know how it goes!

Holy crap. Nothing happened today. I woke up, had a cup of coffee, read the paper, and went for a jog. I came back and watched my stories, taped Desperate Housewives for my roomate Hellsent Angel, and ate macaroni and cheese for dinner. It was good for me! And now I have nothing to write about in my journal. Wait. I hear something. Oh. It's just the termites again. One sec. Let me get the blowtorch.

Whoops. There goes the couch.

DUDE, THEY'RE COMING IN BY THE THOUSANDS! WHERE'S THE SHOTGUN!

Okay. I think they're gone. WAIT! THE QUEEN! SHE'S TRYING TO EAT MY LAPTOP! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUDO CHOP! TAKE THAT! OOH, HOW'S THAT TASTE, YOU LITTLE FREAK!

Okay. Sorry about that. Okay. Where was I before I was so rudely interrupted? I dunno. Oh well. Let's hope something more interesting happens tomorrow.

Well I made it out of the white space of doom. That place smelled funny. I ran toward the chanting and found a bunch of elderly dudes with 6 foot beards and piercing black eyes. I judo-chopped 3 of them and took the other 3 out with a piece of bathroom tile I've had in my pocket for the last three years. After they were knocked out the walls melted and I woke up in my bedroom stark naked with the numbers 69 shaved into my rear end. I don't know what that has to do with anything. Oh well. It was a blast! Let's see what happens tomorrow!

Well, I'm not really sure where I am right now. Um....the date was seriously bugging me because it was always a day a head. So I, um, decided to uh, fix that. It completely blew up in my face and I don't even know what year it is anymore. You see, here is how it went.
I set half the clocks in my house ahead an hour and the other half back an hour on Wednesday and spent 18 hours in some kind of space-time continuum loop, reliving
Thursday (right up until the explosion). I was able to exit the loop only by reversing the polarity of the power source exactly on all the clocks in the house while simultaneously rapping my dog on the snout with a rolled up Times. That's when I blacked out and when I woke up, I was just in a big empty white space. No ceiling, no walls, no nothing. It's just me and my laptop. So, um, occasionally I hear chanting, but it kind of wierds me out. And if I get too close my nose starts to bleed and I drift into a coma for a few minutes before I feel an electrical jolt running through my body keeping me awake. The lights are very bright here! Someone help me! I wish I had some steamed mushrooms! Maybe I can hang myself somewhere. I shall go see! Goodbye for now! Aww, poor wittle guy! I don't want you to be all alone like I am! Here, I will give you a friend. There you go! Oh no! Watch out for the cannibalistic smurfy thing! Run, little Gordetto and little Ty! You're too cute to die! Run! RUN!!!!!!

Well, sorry guys. They haven't let me out of jail yet for the stinkbomb incident, and this guy in the top bunk is making me "solicit" right now so i gotta go.


Good thing I practiced in the bank the other day!

Dear Diary,

I noticed the date was set wrong here for some reason. It's a day ahead. Today is only the 29th, not the 30th. Oh well. That just makes it more exciting. All of mine and Pierre's plans went perfectly. I won the bet about the old lady. He never gave me my ten dollars so I ran him over with a golf cart. He never woke up. I went to the viewing tonight. I had on black slacks, a pink shirt and an open black jacket over it. Man I looked good. No one seemed to care. They were crying about Pierre or something. I don't know. I don't pay attention to this crap. Kenneth wasn't there. He had to feed the farm animals. I think he just smokes weed. The only farm animal I've ever seen was the pig's head he has mounted on the mantle. He said it was his trophy shot. I think he just picked it up at Smith and Edward's. You can find anything there! I heard a famous quote in English class today. "If you truly want to find yourself, go get lost." I tried that. It doesn't work. I had Kenneth drop me off 50 miles away from anything. The middle of friggin nowhere. It was quite easy to find myself. I was there the whole time. What a stupid quote! So anyway, after I chewed off my pinkies out of hunger and tried to light a campfire which ended up burning down the entire countryside, I decided to just bag the whole thing and lie there and wait to die. I only made it about 17 minutes before I decided "screw that plan" because I was bored out of my skull. So I stood up and looked around. I hadn't gone anywhere. So I was still fifty miles from anything. That's when I noticed the truck stop located conveniently 50 feet away from my location. I went nad (Ha ha! I spelled nad!) AND used the payphone and told my mommy to come get me. The workers there weren't very nice to me. I guess my "campfire" burned down half the building. But at least I didn't burn the candy machines! All the people stopping by tried to give me a ride to the mental hospital. They said they had watched me the entire freakin time. Their favorite part was when I decided to go commando to really get a feel for the environment. So my mommy picked me up and grounded me. So I guess I will have to find myself at my house. It's still a stupid game. Whoever created it was a moron for thinking some poor loser would fall for this crap. I know I fell for it, but come on. Just look at me. Of course I'm gonna fall for that crap! Anyway tomorrow Kenneth and I have to go to Pierre's funeral. We're paulbearers and we're gonna see if we can sneak a stinkbomb into the casket before it's sealed! Ha ha! Won't that be great! Then we'll probably never be allowed at the mortuary and have to spend a night in jail, but hey, It's what Pierre would have wanted.

Dear diary,

I took some laxatives along with my Prozac. I can't get off the john but I feel good about it. After I finish I plan to ask the elderly lady down the street a very personal question (Like if she has any tampons I could borrow) and see if she chases me. If she does, my friend Pierre (who will be hiding in the bushes) will document how fast her electric wheelchair can really go. If she makes it over 15, I win 10 dollars! Then we will surf the internet and most likely get into mischeif and hack into secret confessions so we can laugh hysterically when we find out what Jenny down the block has been up to. Then we will meet up with Kenneth and for for our powerwalk. We will powerwalk to Smith's and try not to get stuck in the blood pressure machine this time. But if we do, it will give us an excuse to destroy it. I have always had this BURNING DESIRE to destroy one of those. Just to see what happens. The pharmacists will try to take us down but there are nothing but a bunch of old ladies working there so we should be able to take them down with a few punches. Then if we make it out before the whole building goes up in flames and fiery explosions (It's amazing what results you get when you mix some pop rocks, lighter fluid and alka seltzer) we will head across the street and see if the bank will give us any money out of pity. If not, we'll sexually solicit anyone who wishes for our service. Of course no one will (except maybe Griffin but that's just torture) so we will go home and think up another diabolical scheme for tomorrow! Well, my laxatives just wore off, so I had better go take some more. This time I'll take some viagra and see what results I get.