Dear Diary,
I was watching "the fabulous life of celebrity couples" and saw the most appalling thing yet. Kobe Bryant got his wife a Lambourgini with an automatic transmission. They don't make those. He got it specially made. It's the only one in the whole world with an automatic transmission. You know what I would do, if I didn't already know how to drive a stick, and someone gave me an Lambourgini? I would LEARN. This is easily the most sacriligious thing I've seen in a while. It takes a lot to get me to turn off the TV when "the fabulous life" is on. But clearly I had no choice.
I went to Goodwill today to get rid of some stuff. I brought a bunch of crap that I didn't care about, but at the last minute I threw in my moose stuffed animal, affectionately known as "Mooseboy," thinking that I needed to try to get rid of some of my extensive stuffed animal collection. I mean, crap, I'm 20 years old. Who wants to date a girl with more plush toys than friends? As I was driving away from Goodwill, I looked back in the rearview mirror, and saw Mooseboy, lying facedown in a shopping bag, surrounded by crap. He was getting rained on, and the crap-sorter men were ignoring him. I was thisclose to turning around and going to rescue him. But how would that have looked? Me frantically hanging a U-turn, pulling up to the crap-drop and jumping out of the Aerostar- "I made a mistake! A terrible mistake!" I would have pushed one of the skeezy men out of the way and grabbed Mooseboy from the bag of crap. Then I would have sprinted to the car, buckled him into the passenger seat and we could have made our getaway. Mooseboy would then have said, "Sweet Jesus, Diana, don't let THAT happen again!" I would have apologized profusely, then we could have gone to get bubble tea together. This isn't what happened though. Instead I drove home along the wide and personalityless street that is 4th avenue, hit several potholes, and felt sad. Sad that I felt like I coulndn't have Mooseboy in my life anymore. Sad about lots of stuff.
23 days of Seattle rain and counting.
Love,
Diana
3 Comments:
My suggestion: Buy mooseboy back. Better yet, one of your local blog readers should buy mooseboy back for you. Mooseboy would then be a gift. You can't refuse a gift. It just isn't done.
oh my god. its ok to keep mooseboy. try to get him back. i am looking forward to my package. love, sis
Diana,
I am so sorry. This is a "growing-up" moment that you don't need. In fact, it's not even a "growing up" moment, it's a fake one. You have no obligation to shed your toys--some boys even like them. Google Furries next time you're drinking cheap vodka in a dorm room. It's really fun, I promise.
Go get moose boy, he still believes.
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