Anger Diary #532: The Neverending Chapstick

Dear Diary …

Let’s get all trippy and philosophical here for a second … because I’m wondering if there’s ever been a human on earth who has ever done a certain thing. Do you ever have those weird, trippy questions in your head? Things like … “I wonder if somebody’s thinking about me right now?” … “Is anybody else embarrassingly dancing around their kitchen to old Huey Lewis songs?” You know … philosophical stuff like that.

Anyway … here’s what I’m looking for … and I don’t think this person exists … Is there a single human on the planet who has EVER used an entire thing of chapstick? Because I don’t think there is.

In my entire life, I have NEVER finished a thing of chapstick. They simply just disappear about halfway thru their use, and then I gotta go buy a new one. Not a single time in my ENTIRE existence have I made to the bottom of one of those things. I don’t think I’ve even come close.

And that’s why I put it out there, because I’m pretty confident that there’s not a single person in the history of mankind who’s managed to pull this off. I mean … if you told me you had a picture on your phone of Bigfoot making out with the Loch Ness Monster while he was riding a unicorn ... I’d consider that a more likely possibility.

Go ahead … prove me wrong. Claim to be the person who’s used a whole thing of chapstick. Show me that person, and I will show you a LIAR!

OK … moving on Diary …

I stink.

And I don’t mean “I’m bad at something.” (I’m bad at several things … listening … caring about your feelings … basketball …) Anyway … it’s not that. It’s that I actually stink. Like smelly. (Is this where I can use the word “literally” and say I “literally stink?” You know what? I hate that word so much, I’m not using it even if it is.)

Fact is ... I stink.

Now ... I shower. I wash. I use soap. And if you run into me, I smell fine.

It’s not during everyday life. It’s at night.

When I fall asleep, I don’t know what kind of transformation happens, but I am a rotten stinky ogre of a creature. I go to sleep normal, but then when I wake up in the morning, all my pillows smell like some dirty troll slept on ‘em. It’s like I have a secret second life where I fall asleep, and then I live under a bridge and collect tolls from “Ye who be trying to pass by into my village.”

Where is this stench coming from? Why am I sweating so dang much? And is there a way to coat myself in some kind of protective, sweet-smelling layer to make this all go away?

I don’t wanna stink! And my wife sure as heck don’t want me stinkin’ either! So what do I do?


Alright ... well thanks for nothing!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

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