Dear Diary, Well, den, dats dat. Got me teachers all back to work. Dat didn’t take long.
Course, I’s basically what deys call self-taught so growin’ up in Bugtussle I didn’t have all da interactions wit da teachers dat otter kids had. Needer did me brodders or me sisters. But we wuz a happy bunch. Church mouse poor, but we wuz happy.
Dear Diary, ’Cuz it’s 2017. Been hearin’ a lot a dat lately. Don’t know what in da name a Sam Hill it means but every year somebody’s gotta come out and say ’cuz it’s 2000 dis, ‘cuz it’s 2000 dat. ‘Cuz it’s absolutely ridiculous is what I sez, Diary. Gettin’ on me friggin’ nerves it is.
Wells, I’s some dang glad da Christmas season is drawin’ to a close. But it sure wuz good, I guess, to git back home to Bugtussle and put me feet up fer a spell. Tings wuz gettin’ a little hectic, dere, near da end.
Dear Diary, Well, I just taught I’d let ya know that I’s gonna be a little late returnin’ from the big city in Ottawa where we’s just finished our big First Ministers’ Meatin’. I guess from what I’s now been told is dat I’s gonna be ‘bout tirdy days late. Sure hope da missus takes one a her puzzle books to da aeroport wit ’er.
But we did has a good meatin’ all and all.
Dear Diary, Sum days, Diary, I tinks I’d mite just as wells lays buck-naked in bed all days and listen to me John Denver recordins radder den goes into da orfice. Radder den has dat tiny, nasty, bald man Jamie Daily pointin’ he’s short, stubby fingers at me and callin’ me names.
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