Okay, I wrote up this entry last week, immediately after Uncle Bob's Diaryland Island spoof.

I've thought about not posting it, as there was a little bit of controversy about that specific entry from my dearly beloved Uncle Bob. However, since my computer is back up and running, and since I'm writing this as comment and because this is my diary and I'm entitled to my own obnoxious opinions... I'm going to transcribe it anyway. *grins*

So, either don't read, or do. There should be a few chuckles at least.

Anyway... so, verbatim... here ya go folks.

So, I've signed up for the Survivor thing. Haven't heard about whether or not I've been accepted as a contestant. Doesn't really matter either. I just think the idea rocks. Cordelia Meg is so totally cool. Kudos to her. (I wasn't chosen as a contestant... obviously)

And, because I feel like bitching--- What was with the hurt feelings about my beloved Uncle Bob's diary-play??? Perhaps I was looking at it the wrong way, but I thought the parody was hillarious.

But, I'm one of those people who loves Wierd Al Yankovich. I think Wierd Al is way cool. I love the parodies. Personally, I think that it would be a tremendous honor to have one of my songs/stories parodied by him.

*shrugs* I guess I just have a different perspective. Hell, I understand hurt feelings, I just thought it was completely tongue-in-cheek.

The thing is, he captured the diary personas perfectly. I personally think that each of us, here in Diaryland, has a view of themselves which is slightly limited. Myself included. I think that we let people see a hell of a lot more of who we really are through these pages. Not through the entries. But through the way we speak. The sentance structure. The run-on sentances. *chuckles*

YES, I did get good grades in English... But that was more than 12 years ago. I've gotten a little lax since then. *smirks*

Regardless... Let's disect the entry, or rather, the parts of that little scenario that apply to me. *grins*

First off, let's start with my greeting..."Whoooohooooo!!! Uncle Bob RAWKS!!!"

*chuckles*

My diary persona... Fuck yeah, that's exactly what I'd say. *grins brightly* And the diary persona would probably sound slightly drunk while she said it. *chuckles*

Of course, then reality sets in.

For reality... I would NEVER actually party on a ship full of drunken people. Specifically not this month when I don't have the money to buy the groceries I really want.

BUT, assuming I had an unending supply of money *grins* Okay, so I'm ignoring reality again... BUT, this is the only stipulation. Money. Assuming I had lots and lots and lots of money... this is what would really happen.

I WOULD charter the ship that went to rescue Uncle Bob. AND, I would be on that ship. But I would spend most of my time during the voyage in my room or out on one of the upper decks either writing or typing on my laptop.

I'd talk with fellow diarylanders, and I'd spend a little time "mingling", but most likely I'd spend most of my time being thought of by fellow shipmates as a sooty, snobbish, holier-than-thou-pain-in-the-ass.

Yes, My readers... that's probably what you'd think of me *sniff sniff*

I would, of course, sing for talent night and the like. And I'd talk and socialize with everyone in a CEO-walking-through-the-office type way. But, as soon as the drinkin and druggin started, I'd grab my pepsi, go off to a place by myself and either write, play my guitar, or type on the laptop.

A few times there would be intense all-nighters. Conversations with my deceased Addiction, Charles, Melly and the guy behind Tiger's Son. Hell, we'd probably have small RP sessions and the like. Charles is an awesome Game Master for RPGs.

I'd talk to people in small groups or one on one, but as soon as any partying started, I'd be out of there and alone or with just a couple people.

ANYWAY, once we'd actually gotten to the Island, I'd be on the launching vessel to the island to pick up Uncle Bob. And, rather than saying this quoted material...

"Regardless...c'mon Uncle Bob...we didn't charter this ship for nothing *chuckles*. Get on the boat and let's get the hell out of here. You're too dainty to be on an island for 20 days."

I would actually say something like... Uncle Bob, your wife and son need you home. We're here to take you there. But, it's your choice as to whether or not you go.

In point of fact, I would most likely launce into a rambling and disjointed (much like this entry) lecture on personal choice/responsibility and how the choice is all his, but shouldn't he think of the wife and child at home, and if it's just a matter of money, I'll deposit 500,000 in his account instantly.... (I'm rich, remember? I can charter a ship, I have a laptop and I'm a multi-trillionaire, so I could do it!!!!) so that he could go HOME and be wehre his family is.

And, most likely, Uncle Bob would get on the ship just to shut me up.

And, on the way hame, there would be a hell of a lot more partying, but people would steer clear of me cause they were tired of my continual bitching, ranting, raving--- verbose tireades and the veritable plethora of words I didn't know the true meaning of.

*grins, winking*

Okay, so maybe that's a little overkill, but work with me, folks. I'm just a multi-trillionaire with an insecurity disorder and an incredible amount of self-loathing.

However, I wouldn't just stop with picking up Uncle Bob... I would offer the ride to every one from the island. Hell, I chartered the fuckin cruise ship, there's more than enough room.

Fuck that... I didn't charter the damned thing... I bought it. (I'm a multi-trillionaire, remember?)

So, on that note, let's have a safe Survivor Contest. And I promise the only creepy-crawlies on the ship will be Brad Pitt and D.Love. *smirks*

So that was it.

I thought it was funny. But if you would like to complain at me for my comments and my bizarre sense of humor, feel free to email me at [email protected]". I don't get Email very often, and I'm sure I'd read yours. Or rather, I'd have my clone read it. After all, I'm a multi-trillionaire. I don't have time to waste on petty Emails from people who wish to tell me how much I suck.

*smiles sweetly, batting her eyelashes*

Or something.

*laughs at herself*

Anyway... I hope all of you have your every positive wish come true. In the very, very near future.

Peace unto thy hearts, friends.