Dear Diary,
*Fumbles the diary snap*
*Scoops up diary and tries to shovel pass it to a random mall walker who puts up their hands in denial to signal that they want no part of Bortles and his air of a frat house heir*
*Spikes diary to stop the clock...but Father Time (Mother Nature's uptight husband who is always complaining about her typical tardiness and all the racket that their daughter, Sister Hazel, is making in the garage with her banging on her drum set like it's going out of Harry Styles and don't even get him started on their son who refuses to reveal his true identity in a lifelong sting that commenced upon the departure from his mother's Doppler radar, Undercover Brother) continues soldiering on at the same pace that he always does, much to the chagrin of most of the Jaguar fan base who wishes that they could just fast forward to when they someday win a Super Bowl and the glorious time when Jacksonville will firmly take hold of the reigns of being one of the finest cities in all the lands, the Paris of Sunshine State, the Sicily of the Eastern seaboard and the King of the Alligators, if you will*
Why is Coach Doug such a jerk? First he benches me then he tells me that I am not allowed to take photos in the locker room for my Instagram, Snapchat or my new Looksie account (Looksie is an app that I actually invented (with the help of my Harvard Homies, an exclusive underground club at the Ivy League university which only allows admission to people who both know the origin of the Pythagorean theorem and can not only enter a pie eating contest but bring the cake home...these are the type of people who actually CAN have their pie and eat it too, preferably pumpkin if it is anywhere near Turkey time) which requires the user to not only look at the camera on their phone when they are taking a picture but to also be wearing a pair of colored contact lenses, at least a Johnny Deppful of scarves and proudly holding a fresh Moscow Mule copper tumbler of raspberry shrub.) Then he tells me that I am not "allowed" to wear my Jaguars jersey to the night club - since when did that become a team rule? Last time I checked, Leonard was the best man at a wedding and he was sporting the number 27. I think Coach Doug is just jealous of us players cuz he wishes that he could be in our spot, all young and with bright futures and the ability to look cool in Billabong board shorts and whatnot. Did you know that a lot of those board shorts actually have a comb in them that you can use for your hair if you bend over far enough and at the right angle (which is actually pretty close to a right angle)? It's like being a greaser and a surfer dude at the same time...like if the T-Birds, Pink Ladies and Scorpions all joined hands in a crescent moon formation and harmonized as they sang Kumbaya while drinking Kombucha til the cows come home.
You know what's even crazier than all that jazz? Hold on to your flip flops and sunglasses neck straps, it's about to be a bumpy ride...you must be this tall to ride this Ferris wheel. *Holds an open palm up to the logo on his No Fear tank top which is a highly detailed illustration of a dude whose name is Dewey Point repping a beautifully decorated sombrero and Hard Rock Cafe El Paso long sleeve t shirt (the high ups at No Fear reached a marketing agreement with the big dawgs over at the Hard Rock Cafe after several hours of waterfalling Monster Energy drinks and watching some nice young folks get way too into the Fortnite business) and heartily beer bonging a Mai Tai while rock and rollin' a cool longboard off a gnarly skateboard kicker jump straight off the rings of Saturn and in the general direction of Pluto, the cartoon dog from Disney not the planet that is not a planet* Coach Doug even told me that I am not allowed to attend the big bonfire that is held on the fourth day of every month over at Dew Point. That's like the hugest deal among my top eight friends on Facebook. At the shindig last month, my friend (who holds the number four slot in my greatly coveted top eight) Lacely almost lost her marbles after Lazy Steve (we call him Lazy Steve because he was the first and last one of our buddies to invest his money...making money for doing nothing? That sounds like the definition of lazy to me. There should be a picture of Lazy Steve straight up kickin' it on a hammock with Garfield in the Webster Dictionary next to the word slothful.) did the first ever buzzed 900 with a Tech Deck handboard that has been shown on TMZ...she almost lost the neon turquoise one - that is like the coolest marble in the whole set!
Anyway, for Christmas this year I would like the Jaguars to trade me to the Patriots so that I can be the next Tom Brady and Tom Brady can be the next Drew Bledsoe and I can gift Bill Belichick some sleeves for his hoodies so that he doesn't have to go cold and then maybe he won't be such a goober grump. (Goober Grump was my favorite character in Gilligan's Island...my favorite part was when he complained about the lack of room service on the beach.)
Yours truest,
Blake "Boss" Bortles #5
P.S. I would also like another new Nintendo Switch and for my brothers and sisters to stop resenting my newfound fame and success. Also, snow on Christmas morning would be a pretty sweet deal for everyone except the goober grumps who don't take joy in the little things in life.
Buy Chris's books SPONGE CAKE & WHAT'S IN THE FRIDGE? on Amazon
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