Well slap my ass and call me Sally, fellow dimwits. 500 uber sexy, wonderfully talented, witty, kind, and delightfully mischievous followers. I can die peacefully now. Seriously though, slap my ass or pinch me, because that’s pretty cool.
Once again, a simple thank you didn’t seem to be thanks enough. I was thinking of another way to show my appreciation for all the wonderful feedback, kind remarks, and marriage proposals that I’ve received this past week. So how’s about an autographed photo of me wearing obnoxiously short shorts, a pair of old grandpa blue blockers, an official NBA logo headband, and a cut-off T-shirt revealing just a touch of my fatty McFat McDonald’s french fries eating fat gut.
Yep, that outta do it. Thanks, dimwits. It means a lot.
So originally when I started this blog, I was going to mainly post musings about my daily life. Things like my favorite ice cream flavor, how the wind was really windy today, and how this girl I really like named Beyoncé told me that she thinks we’re soul mates. You know. Traditional diary type stuff, so that’s why I named my blog the Dimwit Diary. But I’ve come to realize that I don’t really write much about my daily life musings. My writing is mostly about feathered hair, whether it be mine or Sally Jessy Raphael’s.
It’s probably for the better that I stick to writing outlandish, made-up stories and keep creating Photoshop madness instead of the daily journal thing. There was a time when I used to write about my daily life, and it was an incredibly drudging read. Here is an example of one of my old, boring ramblings.
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Dearest Delightful Diary,
Today I went to Barnes & Nobles to do some writing. Wait, is it Noble or Nobles. I always get that so confused. Anyway, dearest diary of mine, sweet leather bound entrusted confidant, it doesn’t really matter if the Noble is pluralized or not. The reason that I’m writing is to tell you about two things that happened to me today.
#1) I ordered a grande Americano, extra hot, no cream, and the gal who wrung me up took my name down as Chris. While they were making the drink, I went to secure a table, and not 30 seconds later, I heard them call out my name.
“Chrissy. Your drink is ready.”
I thought, now those rude sonsofbitches calling me a girl’s name like that. I mean, Chris can be a man or a woman’s name, sure. But clearly I am a man, and to shout out Chrissy in public like that was humiliating. It brought back all of those nightmarish memories from high school when the other boys used call me Chrissy and told me to tuck my wiener like a vagina, because I’m a little sissy girl. You know how high school boys can be so mean sometimes.
Well, I went to get my drink and give them a piece of my mind, but it turns out the girl who ordered before me’s name is Chrissy. Isn’t that hysterical, Double D?!! I had a good old laugh with the barista over that one, but not before I called her a skanky ho and we got things all sorted out.
#2) Later in the day, the gentlemen sitting next to me had to go urinate. He musta thought I looked like a trusting soul, so he asked if I wouldn’t mind watching his stuff. I told him that’d be fine, unless he was going number two, because I wasn’t going to sit there all day looking at his computer while he squeezed out a turd. He assured me that he was going number one, and after I made him do a pinky swear promise, I begrudgingly agreed to keep an eye on his stuff.
As I’m sitting there though, I was thinking about how everyone at bookstores asks you to watch their stuff all the time. It never fails. I mean, what if I was a crook? I could have a real field day stealing people’s laptops at Barnes & Noble (I asked the friendly barista; it is Noble and not Nobles.)
I was sitting there for a long, long time. Too long. The guy clearly lied to me, probably because he was too embarrassed to admit that he had to take a number two, so when he finally came back, I told him, “Listen here, you mathematically challenged imbecile. That was a number two, wasn’t it? You were dropping the kids off at the pool, and don’t try to tell me that you weren’t.”
Of course he denied the whole thing. We got into a BIG shouting match in the bookstore. He swore on his mother’s grave that he took a number one and not a number two, but I know better. I’ve watched a lot of people’s stuff over the years, and that was the very last time I’ll ever do it again.
Oh – I forgot. One more thing.
#3) Today the wind was VERY windy and I ate a pistachio flavored ice cream.
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Okay, so maybe it’s not all that boring, but I enjoy writing the variety bits better. I’ve also enjoyed reading through some of your daily musings whenever I get a moment to do so.
Lots of good stuff coming up on the dimwit docket, so stay tuned. I’ll be sharing excerpts from a romance novel that I’m writing, more Photoshop tutorials, a ridiculous advice column called “Chris Cares,” and some other general silliness. Hopefully it will give ya a good laugh, maybe even some coffee spitting, belly-busting fits as well. The world could stand a little more laughter and I’m just the right kind of simple-minded bonehead to deliver.
Thanks again for reading and following, you dimwitted half-breeds.
The Captain of the Dimwits