CollegeHumor: Lost Diaries Articles This Month

CollegeHumor: Lost Diaries Articles This Month http://www.collegehumor.com http://www.collegehumor.com/article:1727939 The Lost Diaries of Your Stuffed Animals Thu, 19 Apr 2007 11:48:40 -0400 http://www.collegehumor.com/article:1727939 <table border=0 width="360px"> <tr> <td colspan=2> MISTER TRUNKS (May 7, 1993): Something was different about my Afternoon Snuggle with Brandon today. While we were cuddling, his mom started talking about “growing up” and “Spring Cleaning.” I don’t know what she meant, exactly, but Brandon started to squeeze me much, much tighter than usual, and I could feel his heart beating against my fluff.

PETER PUFF (May 8, 1993): Mister Trunks and I woke up today, and they were gone. Smoochbear, Miss Toots, Hug-a-Bug, Marshmallow Mindy, Captain Goochie and Lieutenant Goo. All of our friends… gone. Swiftly in the night. It’s just me and Mister Trunks now, and he doesn’t like me very much. Anyway, our friends are probably just on a Big Adventure. I can’t wait to hear their stories when they get back! I wonder if they’ll see a real live rainbow?

MISTER TRUNKS (July 8, 1996) : Over three years since the genocide, and I’m still stuck here in a dark closet with this psychotic douchebunny. He just sits across me smiling and humming “Walking on Sunshine.” If he asks me if I’ve ever seen a real live rainbow one more time, I swear to the Velveteen Rabbit I’m going to... Wait. Wait a second. Diary, I’ve had a long life, full of snuggles – and I think I just found my ticket out of this insufferable prison.

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]]> </td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan=2> <hr> </td> </tr> <tr><td valign="top" width="35px"> <a href="http://www.collegehumor.com/user:56979"><img src="http://4.media.collegehumor.com/collegehumor/ch6/d/3/collegehumor.6ab7686d87358ff55bab1a935bae57f6.jpg"></a> </td> <td valign="top"> Written 2007-04-19 11:48:40 by <a href="http://www.collegehumor.com/user:56979">Dan Gurewitch</a> <a href="http://www.collegehumor.com/school:1210"></a> <p> <img src="http://www.collegehumor.com/artwork/icon_likeIt_noLink.gif" align="texttop" /> 63 likes </p> </td> </tr> </table> <hr /> http://www.collegehumor.com/article:1723216 The Lost Diaries of Batman, Robin & Alfred Thu, 15 Mar 2007 15:17:56 -0400 http://www.collegehumor.com/article:1723216 <table border=0 width="360px"> <tr> <td colspan=2> ROBIN (Mar. 2, 6:20 PM): In retrospect, choosing “Robin” as my superhero identity wasn’t the greatest idea. If I had it to do over again, I would build an eight-foot suit of armor with built-in chainsaws and call myself The Lumberjack. Maybe then the newspaper wouldn’t say things like “Batman saved the day once again, despite being trailed by some sort of flamboyant elf-woman.” I know what it looks like when Batman and I scale a building together, but Diary, this is too much.

ALFRED (Mar. 3, 2:30 PM): “Fetch me some tea, Alfred.” “Fetch me a book, Alfred.” You have a utility belt – fetch it your Goddamn self. After years of thankless servitude, I’ve lost whatever semblance of a human soul I once had. Well, I’m tired of being some millionaire playboy’s wrinkled old bitch. Tonight, I’m taking the gay one and we’re going out on the town… in the Batmobile. If Master Wayne - no, Bruce - doesn't like it, he can shove it up his bat ass.

ROBIN (Mar. 4, 4:15 AM): Bruce was at a cocktail party tonight, so Alfred and I went out in the Batmobile – and I wore the Batsuit. Diary, it was AMAZING. I blacked out a few times, but at one point I remember being in bed with six girls. As I lay there, imagining what their tongues would feel like on my skin as they caressed my hard plastic Bat-nipples, I realized that I can’t go back to the way things were. Not now, not ever. I’m Batman now, and NOBODY CAN TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME! I think Alfred overdosed?

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You probably remember Christopher Robin as the happy-go-lucky lad who frolicked with Winnie the Pooh and friends in the Hundred Acre Wood. But behind the smile-filled adventures lurks a boy’s hidden pain - a pain described with intricate detail in his Lost Diaries.

May 12, 1922: What a beautiful day it was in the forest! It was as if the sun was giving the whole world a great big Pooh-sized hug. Tigger was so happy that when he won Poohsticks, he bounced right into the stream. I haven’t laughed so hard since Piglet very nearly caught a Woozle! Eeyore, however, was his usual gloomy self. What a droopy old donkey!

Aug. 8, 1922: Well, all the honey in my cupboard is gone. It used to be cute, but at a certain point, it’s just a bear in a cut-off T-shirt stealing your stuff. Honestly, I’m starting to get a little fed up with all of them. Owl won’t shut up with the constant nagging. I already have a mom, thanks! And Eeyore, what a downer. I made the baseball team today, and all he could say was “Looks like rain.” “Looks like” I’m going to start grounding up Prozac in his breakfast.

Nov. 21, 1922: How was your day, Diary? Because I got the sh*t kicked out of me at school for believing that my stuffed animals are real. I was too embarrassed to go to the doctor. If I’m crazy, explain the f*cking pig and tiger sitting by my bedside nursing my broken ribs. As Eeyore was carrying me back to the house, I thought I saw some scars right above his hooves. He said he got caught in some bramble. Fine. I’ve got my own problems.

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We're all familiar with American Gladiators, the early '90s phenomenon that pitted Joe Everyman against a series of hulking, testosterone-fueled beasts. But beneath their powerful pectorals, these gladiators had hearts... tortured hearts. For more, we turn to their Lost Diaries.

NITRO (Dec. 22nd, 1993):
It's getting harder and harder to focus when I'm out there in the arena. It's… Laser. I don't know what it is about him. His powerful grip on the tennis ball gun… the way his thighs clench when he climbs the rock wall… I shouldn't write this down. I shouldn't even think it. It's a sick perversion. This will be the last time I mention it.

ICE (Dec. 30th, 1993):
As I near my 8th month of pregnancy, I wonder if I should still be competing. I've taken some pretty hard blows to the stomach in the Joust lately, but I think the baby can take it. I haven't been doing 300 Uterus Crunches every morning for nothing. Gemini says I'm going to have to name the baby "Crushed Ice." He's such a goofball. I mean, I'm sure it's fine, you know? Not every mother-to-be can feel the baby kicking. Right?

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"The Boxcar Children," a series of novels about four orphans that take refuge in an abandoned train in the woods, have been charming youngsters for years. But the books didn't tell the whole story. For that, we turn to the children's Lost Diaries.

HENRY ALDEN, Age 14 (February 12th, 1941):
Sadly, the sun rose again today and I did not die in my sleep as I'd hoped. Instead, I woke up shivering in this God-forsaken meat locker of a boxcar, cupping my hands around my half-frozen ballsack for warmth. I know it's wrong, but the next time my sister Jessie and I are alone, I'm going to make sure I don't die a homeless virgin.

VIOLET ALDEN, Age 10 (August 9th, 1941):
Keeping your milk cool under a waterfall is not as easy as it sounds. Upon opening the bottle this morning, we found not milk, but curdled chunks of insect and bacteria-infested sludge. Henry, being his usual Nazi self, told me not to drink it, but I hadn't eaten for weeks. Since then I've been vomiting every few minutes, and it feels like my eyeballs are being scooped out of my head with a shoehorn. Is it getting dark early today?

JESSIE ALDEN, Age 12 (August 10th, 1941):
Yesterday, Violet died of dysentery. Henry sawed off her legs and arms, and he's roasting her thighs over a fire for dinner tonight. I plan to read a poem. On top of this, I have been carrying Henry's baby for six months. We mistakenly thought I wouldn't become pregnant if we did it in the caboose. We will probably drown the baby in the marsh, if I don't die in labor first.

BENNY ALDEN, Age 5 (October 4th, 1941):
Oooohh a kitty!

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