Dear Diary, Well, it’s back to the ol’ daily grind, as our group is havin’ regular meetin’s in the big chamber, again. I ‘spose that short, little bald fellah will be poppin’ up like a gosh darn, ol’ Jack-In-The-Box, pointin’ he’s finger at me all over again. Why that fellah always has to sit directly’s across from me all the time is beyond me. Don’t make no sense.
Dear Diary, We’re No. 9! We’re No. 9! We’re No. 9!
Well, actually, we wasn’t exactly No. 9. We was tied with anutter province for ninth place. But, boys, what a great finish we had at da Canada Winter Games. Nova Scotia won four whole medals, which was only 137 medals behind da first place, Quebec. Dey got 141 medals.
Dear Diary, Been thinkin’... well, “thinkin’” ain’t quite the right word. Bit strong, perhaps. But teenagers been on me mind lately.
They never catch a break. Or exercise either. We abolished exercise fer teenagers when we stopped dem from joggin’ a mile or two to the local General Store to buy us a packa smokes.
If our teenagers is fat, we’s the ones to blame.
Hey there, Nova Scotia! How ya’ll enjoin’ all the snow up there?
Fortunately, folks in my group can afford to take off to the sunny South any dam time we please. And nobody’s the wiser.
It’s fun being head of the group. Soon my group, which I am the head of, will start to divvy up all the money.
Dear Diary, Hello again. I couldn’t decide if I was going to write an entry last week or not. Couldn’t make up my mind. There was so much going on, and by the time I got around to making my mind up, the whole doggone thing had been taken out of my hands. Guess I’m what ya might wanna call a waffler, or a procrastinator, or sumthun’ like that. Life keeps passing me by.
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