thediastema's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Standard-issue weak comedy entry to follow a depressing reality episode Master, pass this on, eh? I've enacted a few more universal laws of which I thought everyone should take note: 1. I don't care what your friends are high on, lady, you don't have the right to camp out on my lawn tonight. And I don't have an obligation to furnish the lawn for that purpose, either. There's a badly inbred drug dealer just around the corner and across the street. That's what his lawn is for. Camp there. 2. Nobody gets to laugh at his own jokes (or anything else he misperceives as witty) in online correspondence anymore. This is what you look like, John Doe: "So the second midget goes, 'fun? I couldn't even get up on the bed!' LOL" Dude, stoppa that. 3. No more stepping over velvet ropes, anywhere. Do they look like yellow policecop tape to you? 4. Combovers are now a felony unless you are a cartoon. 5. Nobody gets to honk his horn in traffic unless faced with imminent death. This means A. The guy in front of you is only doing 50 in a residential and you're losing patience? Suck it up, darling motorist licenced to drive in the state of Utah. 6. Yuppie has to call me. (This law, unlike Utah's fornication law, makes perfect sense, but, totally like Utah's fornication law, it isn't really enforced.) 7. The Guild cannot blame PTC Concessions for being unable to sell their lame-ass cookbook to the teeming masses of patrons who would rather just nuke something. 8. Frisky gets Hendrix whenever he wants Hendrix. Understood? Don't test this. ~ETK 04:48 - 25 May, 2001 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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