Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod, Idon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcare.. I was once a proud Douglas Fir (ironic no?) now my pulped remains have been condemned to listen to this guy bitch and moan about how he's allergic to mustard but loves mayonase.  Oh, here he comes again…wait, what?.. he broke Mr. Dink's grill, HE BROKE HIS GRILL?.. Okay, not listening.. lalalalalalala.. ohh-wee-ohhh, killa tof- what the hell is a nematoad??.. Alright, the kid is persistant- I'll give him that much.  Honestly, what kind of 11 year old starts a journal and sticks with it day in, day out?  I guess I can be thankful I'm not in his sister's room.  Word is I'd have to be scribed with dreadful stage plays and listen to non-diagetic jazz flute all day… Still, what did he mean, allergic to mustard but loves- OHHHH-  the blonde with the crippled dad.  [clap]…[clap] Way to Doug.  After hundreds of entries and countless terrible, terrible fantasies of wooing her and you two still haven't fuc- nevermind..  Of course not.  You're barely pubescent.  That wasn't fair of me, I apologize.  I guess I have the next seven odd years to look forward to of either being used as a medium for awful emo poetry or having some pages ripped out of my spine to be used as a makeshift cum rag… I wish the green fellow still had me.