Di Has Stories…

(and they’re all true)

Mad Libs Monday June 13, 2005

Filed under: fun stuff — Diana @ 12:13 pm

Got this from Barb, and sent it around (you can see hers at www.airynothing.com). Here are the results:

A typical day for Sarah Elizabeth Green Haggerty.

On a typical day I wake up, wash the pine sap from my Achilles tendon and put on my girdle. I say goodbye to Orville Redenbacher and I Greyhound bus to a Poughkeepsie where I am an Instructional Designer. I feel delicious about what I do, sure I’d rather be a Rectal Thermometer Tester in Vatican City, but this pays the bills and buys me lots of pet rocks that I can catapult.

My morning is pretty furtive. Aside from my 729 trips to the galley to coif my hair and my moist encounter with Barbara, it’s just the same every day.

I break for lunch and draw with Dave Herman over a fabulous plate of magic mushrooms. A quick jaunt to The House of Blues to Colonel Angus Diana, who’s a total reluctant pirate bride, and it’s back to the grind, until 3:07 p.m. when I jump in my puffy orange Vespa and head for home.

My evening is spent recycling and listening to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch while doing yoga around the dressing room wishing I was Paige and drinking all sorts of Tang. Then it’s off to bed where I dream of monkeys and Jenni Sadique in support hose.


A typical day for John.

On a typical day I wake up, wash the gum from my nose and put on my underwear. I say goodbye to George Best and I bike to Nepal where I am a pubber. I feel bluish about what I do, sure I’d rather be a CEO in Brazil, but this pays the bills and buys me lots of sheep that I can kick.

My morning is pretty (adjective). Aside from my 7 trips to the powder room to shave and my pretty encounter Di, it’s just the same every day.

I break for lunch and draw with Dave over a smart plate of magic mushrooms. A quick jaunt to home to shake hands with Sarah, who’s a total Dracula, and it’s back to the grind, until 3:30 p.m. when I jump in my dark red bus and head for home.

My evening is spent sleeping and listening to Coldplay while playing soccer around the den wishing I was Sir Matt Busby and drinking all sorts of whiskey. Then it’s off to bed where I dream of bottles and Simon Mayo in a neck tie.

A typical day for Jessica Hays.

On a typical day I wake up, wash the cum from my ear and put on my pants. I say goodbye to Angelina Jolie and I fly to a Paris where I am a porn star. I feel crunchy about what I do, sure I’d rather be a mechanic in Lakeland, MN, but this pays the bills and buys me lots of boys that I can jump.

My morning is pretty yellow. Aside from my 6 trips to the outhouse to crap and my green encounter with Diana, it’s just the same every day.

I break for lunch and draw with Paris Hilton over a blue plate of magic mushrooms. A quick jaunt to Italy to kiss Diana, who’s a total pumpkin, and it’s back to the grind, until 3:00 p.m. when I jump in my burned orange bicycle and head for home.

My evening is spent sleeping and listening to 3 Doors Down while playing soccer around the can wishing I was myself and drinking all sorts of Pepsi. Then it’s off to bed where I dream of cats and Dallas-Doing Debbie in underwear.

A typical day for Dean.


On a typical day I wake up, wash the cum from my boob and put on my garter. I say goodbye to Gillian Anderson and I take an airplane to a Alaska where I am a Tech Lead. I feel lovely about what I do, sure I’d rather be a CIO in Minnesota, but this pays the bills and buys me lots of trains so that I can run.

My morning is pretty quick. Aside from my 69 trips to the kitchen to shower, and my slow encounter with Adam, it’s just the same every day.

I break for lunch and draw with Jill over a sweet plate of magic mushrooms. A quick jaunt to Boston to hug Joe, who’s a total vampire, and it’s back to the grind, until 2:00 p.m. when I jump in my weakly red car and head for home.

My evening is spent sleeping and listening to The Streets while playing polo around the bedroom wishing I was Chris and drinking all sorts of beer. Then it’s off to bed where I dream of boobs and John in a stocking.

A typical day for Dave.

On a typical day I wake up, wash the Mercohnium from my adenoid and put on my spat. I say goodbye to Aimee Fischer and I take the Hindenburg to a sewer where I am a anal-lyst. I feel lascivious about what I do, sure I’d rather be a Comptroller in Zululand, but this pays the bills and buys me lots of pocket gophers that I can reel.

My morning is pretty remorseless. Aside from my one trip to the shower to brush my teeth and my guilt-ridden encounter with Di, it’s just the same every day.

I break for lunch and draw with Paige Davis over a incendiary plate of magic mushrooms. A quick jaunt to Vietnam to cage fight with Di, who’s a total rape victim, and it’s back to the grind, until quittin’ time, when I jump in my deciduous periwinkle Beetle and head for home.

My evening is spent staring into space and listening to Foo Fighters while lynching in the cat box room wishing I was Hitler and drinking all sorts of root beer. Then it’s off to bed where I dream of severance packages and the psychoexgirlfriend.com guy in a pantaloons.

A typical day for Jenn.

On a typical day I wake up, wash the colostrum from my left knee and put on my sock. I say goodbye to Garfield and I foot to Hawaii where I am an RN. I feel silly about what I do, sure I’d rather be the Queen of All She Surveys in Ireland, but this pays the bills and buys me lots of cats that I can swim.

My morning is pretty orange. Aside from my 7 trips to the kitchen to think and my hot encounter with Di, it’s just the same every day.

I break for lunch and draw with Jeff over a weird plate of magic mushrooms. A quick jaunt to Canada to chat with Di, who’s a total gorilla, and it’s back to the grind, until high tea when I jump in my squishy platinum Beetle and head for home.

My evening is spent sleeping and listening to U2 while tickling around the closet wishing I was Greg Louganis and drinking all sorts of Coke. Then it’s off to bed where I dream of teeth and Ana in a hat.

A typical day for Diana.

On a typical day I wake up, wash the rubber cement from my big toe and put on my brassiere. I say goodbye to John Cusack and I take a burro to a Ireland where I am an account manager. I feel sticky about what I do, sure I’d rather be a stevedore in Pennsylvania, but this pays the bills and buys me lots of kitties that I can juggle.

My morning is pretty yellow. Aside from my 37 trips to the dining room to wax my upper lip, and my encouraging encounter with Sarah, it’s just the same every day.

I break for lunch and draw with the Wild Colonial Bhoys over a outstanding plate of magic mushrooms. A quick jaunt to IKEA to snuggle with Barb, who’s a total bum, and it’s back to the grind, until 3:30 p.m., when I jump in my crunchy blue train and head for home.

My evening is spent scraping the cat barf off my floor and listening to John Groban while walking around the bathroom wishing I was Queen Elizabeth I and drinking all sorts of Bailey’s. Then it’s off to bed where I dream of pubs and Megan Slankard in a shoe.

A typical day for Sara Camerer.

On a typical day I wake up, wash the boogers from my junga-jungas and put on my knickers. I say goodbye to Colin Firth and I jet to a Stonehenge where I am Whatever I Want to Be. I feel horny about what I do, sure I’d rather be a Chief of Hole Inspection in Ireland, but this pays the bills and buys me lots of puppies that I can skip.

My morning is pretty purple. Aside from my 13 trips to Room 12 brush my teeth and my bumpy encounter with Sarah Haggerty it’s just the same every day.

I break for lunch and draw with Dave Herman over a zippy plate of magic mushrooms. A quick jaunt to St. Paul to touch Diana Johnson, who’s a total pickle and it’s back to the grind, until 3:00 p.m. when I jump in my funny green Audi TT and head for home.

My evening is spent sleeping and listening to Sting while having sex in the playroom wishing I was Eleanor Roosevelt and drinking all sorts of Coke with Splenda. Then it’s off to bed where I dream of buggies and Barbie in a socks.

A typical day for Jenni.

On a typical day I wake up, wash the tree sap from my knees and put on my skirt. I say goodbye to Bruce Willis and I moped to a Texas where I am a nurse. I feel strange about what I do, sure I’d rather be a dog walker in Yemen, but this pays the bills and buys me lots of sticks that I can throw.

My morning is pretty intense. Aside from my 25 trips to the sunroom to sing and my loud encounter with Haley it’s just the same every day.I break for lunch and draw with Diana over a uplifting plate of magic mushrooms. A quick jaunt to Target to hug Sarah, who’s a total princess, and it’s back to the grind, until 3:32 p.m. when I jump in my wrinkly green rickshaw and head for home.

My evening is spent knitting and listening to Michael Jackson while drinking around bedroom wishing I was George W. Bush and drinking all sorts of tequila. Then it’s off to bed where I dream of cameras and Craig in a belt.

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