Let’s Talk About SEX!
Dear Diary,
Today was a BIG day for me. I finally graduated from a training bra to a full 36 D! Quick progression? Not really. I got a boob job. Yep, I saved up $3.75 and flew down to Mexico for Dr. Sanchez’s discount. It was well worth it. What a wild experience! One minute you’re talking to the Doc right before he puts you under, and the next minute you wake up with D cups, bruises on your ass, and a “thank you” letter. I don’t know why he was thanking me… Oh wait! That’s not good… No wonder he was sprawled out naked on the lobby floor smoking a cigarette. I feel violated. –Chris’ made up excerpt from Pamela Anderson’s diary.

Granted, it’s a fake entry, but hey, it would explain the Hepatitis C. Aha! No, not the 80s hair band, I’m talking about the joyous exclamation Aha! Let’s try again. Aha! Thanks to my own random thoughts, I have found a new Hip-Hop name. How does Heppy C sound? Kinda like Heavy D, but much better. I think the name stays. The first single to be released under this name will be a parody of Sean Paul’s “We Make It Clap” entitled “She Got the Clap.” If that one doesn’t hit #1 on the Japanese Top 40 Chart then I’ll retire indefinitely. The Japanese will listen to anything, esp. if it sucks. If it hits #1, I will continue to make hits. The follow up album will be Tejano if I can pronounce the Spanish correctly. I can bet I won’t pronounce it correctly because I’m what the “tan” like to call a “gringo who can’t roll his ‘R’s’ properly.” If the Tejano album makes the cut, I’ll release it under the name Honké Suave. You better not be laughing. These ideas are golden. Jus’ messin’, they’re pretty bad. The poor quality of my “Tejano” idea can be likened to a recent poor choice on the part of California residents. Of what choice speaketh I? Oh, electing an Austrian retard as governor. Arnold was probably running as a joke, but ya’ll up and elected him. I wonder what he said when he won. “Ah chit, I vwas keeding. I dun’t vwunt to be gyee-ooo-BER-NAYT-OR. D-ahm-eet!” I doubt I’m far off on that one. I’m still waiting for Ashton Kutcher to fly over California screaming, “You’ve all been punked!”

Now, “Let’s Talk About SEX!” I had to put that in quotes, for if I didn’t, three pudgy, light-skinned, mocha mamas would knock on my door asking for royalties. Sorry gals, I gots no dollas fo’ ya! Now go back to the sandbox and play with En Vogue like nice girls. End digression-HERE- Today, I attended “Sexual Harassment and Cultural Diversity Training.” That’s pretty much it. I learned a little bit about what not to say, grab, pinch, and smack. I also learned that it’s against policy for a fat girl to run up, lick your face, and shout, “I knew I smelled chicken.” I had a fat girl do that to me at my old job. I felt that it was grounds for termination, but I guess networks won’t fire a host. Back to this training thing… Apparently, workers can’t give gifts, compliments, massages, kisses, or unwanted sexual advances to fellow employees. So after Diversity Training ended, I walked up to the teacher, smacked her ass, gave her a rose, kissed her on the cheek, and said, “Tonight, 11:00 o’clock, my apartment, you and me, no clothes, some candles, and a few cams. Do this and I’ll make sure you climb the corporate ladder.” I’m out… I gotta shower, buy some candles, and acquire a camcorder. Daddy’s got a date tonight… at 11:00!

I've been a pimp ever since I can remember.