dear diary

so every monday, the ny times publishes the "metropolitan diary" which is as cringeworthy as the personal stories that contestants on jeopardy tell about themselves.

Dear Diary:
After a noontime walk-turned-half-jog in a chilly Central Park, I felt the need for a good stretch. I decided to kick out the kinks while waiting for the light to change at Columbus Circle. Right, left, right, left. After all, I said to myself, this is New York, no one will notice, and people do stranger things. As the light turned green and I stepped off the curb, a woman turned to me and said, "You're hired!"

uh, okay?

Dear Diary:
A variety store in my neighborhood had a sign on its outside wall listing wallpaper, paint and art supplies among its stock. However, the "W" and the "P" were in a color different from the rest of the sign, and had faded to invisibility, leaving passers-by with the unarguable information that "allpaper aint Art Supplies."

omg, hilarious. can you believe that?

Dear Diary:
Recently, I was riding on a subway car that was packed like a tin of sardines. Because I kept getting poked by someone's umbrella, I turned to the guy behind me and said, "Excuse me sir, could you please not poke your umbrella into my side?" Without missing a beat, he exclaimed, "That's not my umbrella!"

okay, i might have made that one up.