DEAR DIARY . . . PART III

NOTE:  Dear Diary . . . Part II  was eaten by a Sasquatch and the diary gave the Sasquatch diarrhea.

Dear Diary . . . 



Today I looked at my floor and wondered whether carpets stop floors from talking.  If they do, then what would floors say if there were no carpets?

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Which is bigger, my mouth or my I.Q.?

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It rained today.  Things got wet.

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Am I crazy?  Yesterday I wondered whether I was crazy.  Will I wonder whether I am crazy

tomorrow?  Will the day come when I stop wondering and know whether I am crazy?

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I'm starting to believe that the Earth is flat.  If not, then where are its boobs?

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It rained again today.  Again things got wet. I'm starting to see a pattern.

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I cut my thumb today.  I cut it while using my wit. It wasn't a very deep cut.

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Instead of the first day, is today the last day of the rest of my life? 

Hmmm . . .

Can police charge a battery with assault?

Where are the dayclubs?

Is it still considered traveling when you go crazy?

How come you never see pop stars in cans or bottles?

Would dinosaurs still be extinct if they had used deodorant?

Do prisoners get periods at the ends of their sentences?

How come people who are out of their minds still think that they are in their minds? 

Does B.Y.O.B. on an invitation to a zombie party mean Bring Your Own Brains?

 

Are we done yet? 

"No, just one more picture and that will be it."

Promise?

"Promise."

 

ONE TWO THREE

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2

3

PICTURES NOT AT AN EXHIBITION . . .

THE VOICES TAKE A DAY OFF

I'm not sure what to do.  The voices in my head took today off.  One, or all, usually tell me what to do.  Now what?  I have never heard it so quiet in my head before.

Some friends have offered to lend me the spare voices in their heads.  But people would think I was crazy if they found out that I was listening to the voices in my friends' heads.  I will wait for the voices in my head to return . . .