Dear Diary,
I was driving home and imagining a picture to myself. The picture was of myself [a favorite subject, is this not why I have a blog after all?] It wasn’t really an exciting picture, but I was imagining it hard and that’s what counts. Though I suppose driving home is a sort of bad time to be really imagining anything or fully delving into daydreams, etc in the first place. But anyhow I was and a little bored, and a little lonely too [is this not yet another reason I have a blog?] And in the picture of myself I was wearing cowboy boots. I am not sure why, maybe it was because of the hillbilly music the radio was playing. At any rate, I’m driving home and picturing this and I’m thinking to myself, “Jesus, I look silly, who wears cowboy boots with shorts?!”
Hyuk hyuk hyuk.
Your turn to imagine a picture of me:
In real life once I wore black-loafers-with-no-socks-and-shorts-and-short-sleeves -and-a-tie to a wedding because it was the groomsmens’ “uniform” and I had to. I was a little fat then.
Looks like Baby Huey or something right?
Okay bye!
-Keith Dubya
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About Me
- Keith Bush
- It gets rid of your gambling debts, it quits smoking It's a friend, and it's a companion, And it's the only product you will ever need Follow these easy assembly instructions it never needs ironing Well it takes weights off hips, bust, thighs, chin, midriff, Gives you dandruff, and it finds you a job, it is a job And it strips the phone company free take ten for five exchange, And it gives you denture breath And you know it's a friend, and it's a companion
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