The Fake Diary of Clif Haley

The wife and I were going through a bunch of old papers that were boxed up in the garage last weekend so we could shred all the personal account stuff and then toss the shit out. I did manage to find a few interesting bits of writing I'd done a few years ago. What follows are totally fake diary entries I came up with for my own amusement...the dates are fabricated, I think it was all written on the same day around 2003...

The Daily Journal of Clifton Michael Haley Esq. - June 16, 1998

The itch is getting really, really bad now but I'm too embarrassed to go to the doctor! I will DEFINITELY wash the next pair of underwear I buy from a guy on the street! I guess I've learned a few things, though. Namely, A) 'Fruit of the LOAM' is NOT a major brand, B) if a pair of underwear appear to be made out of attic insulation then they probably are, C) if the phrase "please send help America, I am twelve and supporting a family of nineteen on 52 cents a day and am not making enough money to buy dogs for food" is stitched into the waistband, I should probably ask for a discount, D) most legitimate underwear dealers do not also specialize in Three Card Monte, E) when you open a brand new three pack of underwear the only things in the pack should be underwear and NOT toenail clippings, band-aids, spent bullet casings, chewing gum, or fishhooks. Oh well, I gotta go. I just heard about this guy who sells what I'm told is "the best sushi in town" out of his van. I'll let you know!

The Daily Journal of Clifton Michael Haley Esq. - October 9, 1999

God I hate Ryan! The first thing I'm going to do when the band makes it big is kill him. I'm sooooo sick of the way he looks at me and transmits via telepathic rays "You're just a big ol' baby! Baby wanna go poo, poo? Baby wanna ride the magic Wheelbarrow of Happiness to The Land of Happy Happy Bouncy Shiny Things? Baby wanna DIE!" He acts like he's not doing it, but I know he is. I mean, when I see him he's all "Hey dude, what's up?" but his eyes are saying "Hey you big fat baby, where's your big fat pacifier, dumbhead?!" I don't know...maybe it's just me.

The Daily Journal of Clifton Michael Haley Esq. - February 2, 2000

I checked out this great band last night called WarehouseLarry. They sounded like a rocket powered freight train full of Black Sabbath crashing into a nuclear power plant at the speed of light. Awesome show. If I ever start another band I'm going to call it WarehouseHarry, and we're going to play songs that sound exactly like WarehouseLarry's but have different words that say pretty much the same thing. for instance: WarehouseLARRY has a song called "I Love You Baby" but WarehouseHARRY will have a song called "You Know, I Really Like You a Lot, I Mean, No, Really I Do, It's Just That I'm in a Really Weird Place Right Now (Hey, Where You Going?)" I think that would be cool. Something else I think would be cool are shoes that look like feet. Or maybe just tiny, individual shoes for each toe. Damn, those are both pretty cool.

The Daily Journal of Clifton Michael Haley Esq. - April 15, 2000

Well, it's official: I like corn. It's taken me years to do it, but I can honestly say now that I like corn. Corn on the cob. Creamed corn. Whole kernel corn. I don't know why I didn't like corn for so long. It's sort of sad, really. All those years I've missed enjoying corn. I'll never get those years back. And to think there are people out there, lost people, who STILL don't like corn! Maybe I'll rent a corn shaped suit and hand out pamphlets praising the glory of corn tomorrow. Nah, I think I'll just sit home, watch some TV, and partake in a little bit of corn eatin'!


The Daily Journal of Clifton Michael Haley Esq. - January 7, 2001

I've been trying to write poetry lately, but I just can't seem to do it. I'm too happy and content with life. The only things I can seem to write are Hallmark cards or inspirational posters for first grade special ed classrooms. You know, stuff like "Roses are Red, violets are Blue, I know you love me, and I love you too!" or "Being retarded ain't so bad. At least you're not blind!" I'm sure that kind of stuff could make me a hell of a lot of money, but it wouldn't really fill me up inside. Good poetry only comes from the tragedies in life, and I currently have none. Oh well, I better get Dad to the hospital for his chemo. Later!

The Daily Journal of Clifton Michael Haley Esq. - March 25, 2001

I met this great girl at the strip club the other night. She's just like mom except for the stripping and the cocaine and bi-sexuality and the piercings and the mustache and the "big time debt" from the "operation" that she won't tell me about. she gave me her phone number for ten bucks (what a flirt!), but I must have written it down wrong, because every time I call it I get Fong Wu's Chinese Bistro. We really hit it off, though. She sat on my lap and asked me what my hobbies were and (get ready for this!) she ALSO likes building ships in bottles and covering them with rare, misprinted stamps from countries that no longer exist! I mean, what are the odds of that?! I bought her a ring today. Nothing fancy, just a two karat diamond set in a platinum band. Guess that whole "higher education" thing is going to have to wait a little bit! Ah, love. It's a wonderful think.

There you have it...I hope that didn't take up too much of your time.