4:00 a.m. Unbelievable. I've been here on this stakeout for the last eighteen hours with Barney Miller and T.J. Hooker in the back, while I'm up here playing solitaire. What's worse is they won't tell me shit! I have no idea who we're waiting for or for how long we're gonna be waiting, because it's "classified". Jackasses. I swear to God, if we're still here at 6:00, I'm—(two thumps from the back) Thank God. Thank God.

8:30 a.m. Son of a bitch, I barely had time to shower before the phone rang. The nerve of these organized crime assholes to set up a heist at this ungodly hour. Seriously, this better be strung together right. I saw Reservoir Dogs, and I don't want any of that shit going on. If one of those guys comes out bleeding from the stomach, fuck 'em, I'm leaving without 'em. Which reminds me, I've got a bone to pick with that Dane Cook. Seriously, a monkey?! Does he really think a monkey could do my job? Well, listen up, asshole, it's more than just driving. You gotta know where you're going, when exactly to start and stop, you gotta time that down to the second. Does that sound easy? Huh? Didn't think so.

11:00 a.m. Wow, that did not go well. Ten minutes in, shots ring out. I saw it go down, and I saw it fall the hell apart. Three of them got back to the van before I took off. The other guy…who knows. Dead, arrested, I don't know. The point is, they only paid me half up front, and they said since their other guy didn't make it back I wouldn't get the other half. Well, isn't that just great? I'm not the one who fucked up the job, I gotta be looking out for me! So fuck it, I said next time, hire the goddamn monkey, see how well that works for you.

12:00 p.m. Just got pulled over again. Third time this week. Seriously, this is vehicle profiling, and that is bullshit right there. Just because a van similar to the one I drive is used in about a third of all crimes doesn't mean I did anything wrong. Dammit, leave me alone!

3:00 p.m. So, this guy called me, and he told me to meet him about a block away from the elementary school. Weird-looking fella, big scruffy beard, dark glasses, beer gut. Handed me two thousand dollars in exchange for borrowing the van for two hours. Hey, whatever, money's money. Besides, he's not doing anything weird with it. Not sure what the box of lollipops was for, though.

5:00 p.m. Just got the van back and I found a rope and a ball gag in the back. Now I'm a little concerned, but I don't have time for any of that, because I have to get back to the stakeout.

5:07 p.m. Pulled over AGAIN! For Christ's sake, if I committed half the crimes I've been suspected of, I'd be John fucking Gotti.

7:00 p.m. Alright, Matlock is outside, pissing on my door. Arrogant son of a bitch. Seriously, they take over my van with their super spy equipment and don't tell me shit, and they think they can just run this machine! Well, they can't! This is MY SHOW! I'M RUNNING THIS THING!

7:02 p.m. I think Magnum, P.I. heard me yelling just now and suspects something. Well…well, good! He's gotta know who's boss! If that means he thinks a little less of me, then so be it! If it means he thinks I'm a schizo, well…that's fine, too, because I AM IN CHARGE HERE!!!

1:00 a.m. Heh…wow, funny story. Turns out the dude we've been watching is the same guy who set up the botched heist this morning. Wow…this is awkward. Hopefully he didn't recognize me. Wait—shit, he recognized me. Damn. Well, looks like I've probably got about a day-and-a-half to live, so…hmm…solitaire, anyone?