Dear Diary,
Yesterday I hit the spa. Nope, it was on the 3rd floor. Why you always talking about the upper room? I'll send you to the upper room. You die first and I'm gonna sing at your funeral. I'm just gonna bust all into that muthaf***a sangin' The Upper Rooooooooooooom. Great time. Remember the waaa-ve rooooooooom and the salt grotto? Oh, yeah you didn't go in. Calm down. It wasn't my fault those very nice robes didn't have pockets. I lost my daddy's watch when I thought I dropped it in there. I saw some guy pick it up. I beat his a** and took it back. I couldn't risk losing you. Plus I figured you needed some alone time with the blackberry. How'd that work out? I get it. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. I can guarantee you with all the s**t I took yesterday, my manicure and pedicure won't stay here. Neither will the fact that I fell asleep in the Phantom of the Opera last night. I guess I can be grateful that there are no pictures of either. At least I don't think so. My boss's boss said if he got the picture it would have made it into a gag reel at our national sales meeting. I told him I'd willingly pose for as many as they needed if they paid to send me back. No takers. Damn. I ate well again yesterday and made a quick visit to the gym. When I was eating breakfast I ended up talking to a guy that is trying to lose weight and avoid diabetes. He said that he visits a site called www.dlife.com. I'm gonna have to give it a look. I need to step up my game. I looked back at the beginning of April and I have to say I'm not very satisfied with my progress. So no more weekends f***ing around. I can't do Life in a fat suit. This ain't Big Momma's House. I gotta get my focus back. I got some s**t to take care of. Literally. Diary can you please call the front desk and ask them what the f*** they have against 2 ply. They're as bad as Trina. If they can't get me some I'm gonna have to use a couple of your pages. Your pages are nice and supple like a lady. Believe me, I know. Look don't be mad. I'll let you choose the pages this time. B***h.
PS. Hey, this ain't my daddy's watch!
PSS. You goin' eat yo cornbread?
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