Whats up? I love you guys~! So, going back to the UAE tomorrow, so I'm posting this chapter up early. In other news, 9/11 is coming up... does anyone have a 9/11 story? I dont really remember mine, but according to my mom, I, a puny five year old, went to school the next day in a headscarf and gave a speech about 9/11.

Of my own accord.

Which is really shocking, since I have social anxiety and stage fright. But I totally wish I remembered it. If you have your own account of 9/11, leave it in the reviews. It'll be a good place to vent, since I know a lot of people feel strongly about it.

On to regular stuff~

Review of the week: "Matthew, WHAT, WHAT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Yeah, something is rotten in Denmark, and it's his PISS POOR ATTITUDE! On the bright side, this is the best your hair's looked in months!" - (Twice in a row? Awesome! Keep on keeping on :D)

Comment of the week: "Today, my grandma walked into my room and asked if the thing lying on my nightstand was a computer. I said ''Grandma, that's a clock.'' After staring at me, confused for a few seconds, she then farted, and left my room. FML" -An FML post.

September 10, 2011

Dear Diary,

Today I found out what a douche bag is.

I think that I am undeniably, irrevocably disgusted.

Oh crap, I sound like Bella Swan, even when discussing- Urgghh.

I am shuddering Diary, SHUDDERING.

I dont think anybody deserves to be called a douche bag now.

Oh, and speaking of douchebags (Crisse, I did it again!), Peter is the child equivalent of one. I would smash his head into a wall repeatedly if I wasn't so loving, and caring, and shit.

Yeah, I definitely have issues...

It all began on the first day of Peter being here that I started going batshit insane. Specifically, breakfast time.

Flashback time~!

"Hey, Matthew, can I have this tiramisu ice-cream for breakfast?" Peter said, brandishing a carton of the delicious stuff that Cuba ships to me by the barrel.

Trying to be a responsible foster parent to a growing (HA!) thirteen year old (physically) boy, I said, "No, Peter. Now, why dont you sit down and have some delicous sugary just-as-bad-for-you pancakes smothered in maple syrup?"

What happened next was possibly the most frightening time of my life.

He stalked over to where I was standing, a glare written on his face. He then kicked upwards between my legs in a very swift motion, pausing abruptly right before he could hit the family jewels.

"Now listen to me you friggin Mountie. This can go down either way: You give me my ice cream and you dont get hurt. If you dont... well, lets just say I'm made out of steel."

I nodded my head, scared out of my wits.

He smiled and lowered his leg. "Good. I'm glad we came to an understanding.

I think this kid has me whipped now. I'm afraid that if I dont do what he says, he'll sneak up on me while I'm sleeping and chop off my balls in the dead of night.

Thats not all diary, it turns out this kid swears like a sailor too.

Actually, thats not that much of a surprise... What is a surprise is that he gets up at five in the morning.

TO GO JOGGING.

I refuse to believe that a puny sea fort is more militaristic then me, but sadly, I think this is true. Well, half true. I think he only does it because he keeps muttering about invading England and 'kicking his scrawny ass, yup!'.

Thank god he doesn't have an army, or we would all by royally screwed.

So, after the ice cream event with Peter, the week has been roughly uneventful, unless you count Tuesday.

Ah, Tuesday...

Well, Gilbert came over. Because, after I snap and kick him out ( It's happened before), he waits for a few days for me to cool down, then invades my house again.

Honestly, I'm not complaining. He's pretty damn awesome, but every time he gets close to me, and I think about my love confession deadline on my Calender of Doom©, I get a bit more freaked out.

So freaked out that I start trying to find calming ways to, well, calm down. So far, the only thing thats come up in my mind is slaughtering babies.

I am a terrible person.

Oh, speaking of terrible things, remind me to avoid Alfred on the eleventh, Diary.

He gets... strange on the eleventh.

The above is known as an understatement Diary.

Here is a list of things Al does on September Eleventh, Diary.

List of Things Al Does on 9/11

Start crying when he wakes up.

Become incredibly paranoid and suspicious of people that otherwise, he would trust his life to.

Call Iraq, then hang up abruptly when he anwsers. (I think this stems from guilt, mostly.)

Cry some more, then call England and put on a 'Hero Face'

Wake up the next day, not remembering a thing.

Usually, I watch him on 9/11, to make sure he doesn't do anything crazy, but this year, its the tenth anniversary...

Who knows what he could do to me, with his heightened sense of paranoia?

That sounded rally selfish, but please dont think badly of me Diary!

Oh, and if you remember when I started talking to you today, then you will recall that I mentioned a certain Bella Swan.

Now, I dont know a thing about the Twilight series, but one thing is for sure: If Edward can get a girl, so can I.

Er, guy.

I meant guy.

Well Diary, I'm sleepy now, and I have to prep for a meeting and press conference next week tomorrow morning, so I'll go to sleep and slip you underneath my pillow.

Sleep well, oh Saint of Books.

-Matthew Williams