A Page from a Girl's Diary

This is a/an (adjective) entry in (name of girl in room)'s diary.

Dear Diary: Today I saw him again. When he looks at me with those (adjective) eyes, it makes my (noun) go pitter-pat, and I feel as if I have (plural noun) in my stomach. I think he likes me because he asked me for the (noun) when I was standing next to him in the (noun). I just had to hear his (noun) again, so I called his (verb ending in ING) machine and left a/an (adjective) message. I hope he doesn't recognize my (noun). He is such a/an (adjective) (noun), dear Diary. His name is (name of boy in room), and I live in hope that someday he will realize how (adjective) I would be for him, and that I am the (noun) he has always been looking for.

Thorny Tree Lady said...
This is a entry in Miley Cyrus' diary.

Dear Diary: Today I saw him again. When he looks at me with those chocolicious eyes, it makes my webcam go pitter-pat, and I feel as if I have American Idol Top 36 participants in my stomach. I think he likes me because he asked me for the bleu cheese wheel when I was standing next to him in the unbalanced checkbook. I just had to hear his rejected Facebook friend request again, so I called his contemplating machine and left a cheddarific message. I hope he doesn't recognize my Ritz cracker. He is such a better-than-sex broken nail, dear Diary. His name is Cris Angel, Mind Freak, and I live in hope that someday he will realize how smashing I would be for him, and that I am the run-down cell phone battery he has always been looking for.

Millie said...
This is a bitten in half by a shark entry in Syrupy Sybil's diary.

Dear Diary: Today I saw him again. When he looks at me with those printer toner-horfing eyes, it makes my Neighbor Kid go pitter-pat, and I feel as if I have empty threats in my stomach. I think he likes me because he asked me for the AC/DC album when I was standing next to him in the Cornballer. I just had to hear his former lover of Ellen Degeneres again, so I called his tiptoeing machine and left a spasmodic message. I hope he doesn't recognize my clotheshorse 4-year-old. He is such a hamster-shaving angry bee, dear Diary. His name is Jason Bateman, and I live in hope that someday he will realize how magnanimous I would be for him, and that I am the squid he has always been looking for.

Dalene said...
This is a verbally adroit entry in Penelope's diary.

Dear Diary: Today I saw him again. When he looks at me with those decrepit eyes, it makes my ice cream scoop go pitter-pat, and I feel as if I have jaded used vacuum salesmen in my stomach. I think he likes me because he asked me for the freshly washed socks when I was standing next to him in the geriatric ward. I just had to hear his lint trap again, so I called his procrastinating machine and left an astute message. I hope he doesn't recognize my mud pie. He is such a masochistic rain gutter, dear Diary. His name is Wiley Coyote, and I live in hope that someday he will realize how scantily clad I would be for him, and that I am the used book of mad libs he has always been looking for.