Dearest Muthf***in' Diary,
Can you please explain what the f*** I did that was so wrong that the scale wouldn't go down? Actually I can explain it. I almost had a breakdown last night. I drank some pepsi. The alcoholic would have told me that I'd have to give up my 60 day sodar card. He WOULD have told me had he answered the call I made to him in my time of need. He was nowhere to be found though I didn't try too hard. Maybe I need a sponsor to lean on when I get weak. It's usually the EBG, but I didn't ride last night cause I had some work to do. Then I started eating food all late. Just like I did when I wasn't trying to do better. I thought it was going down. Not sure why I stopped. Could have been the will power. Could have just been good sense. Might have been me washing the dishes. My hands were otherwise occupied. That could also be the reason I didn't slap the s**t out of you. Not that you did anything to deserve it. At least not this time. But f*** you anyway. You'll do something to earn it.
PS. Can you explain why the universal menu at black funerals is Albertson's fried chicken, green beans, potato salad and spaghetti?
PSS. At my funeral I want steaks. Also I should be buried with a 10 oz. Wagyu ribeye from CUT. Medium.
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