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Two Hosts and a Model: Sara's Diary [new entries 3/17] |
| Written by Nathan Weaver | |
| Thursday, 06 March 2008 | |
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Share it:      Dearest Diary, I am on route to my destination of California. I leave behind that wretched series Two Hosts and a Model, I move on to newer and more profound things. My dearest Mr. Dempsy awaits my arrival, we are betrothed to be married. A marriage I am much looking forward to. My previous state of Missouri was quite a bore. Is there a state in existence where exists more social decay and arrogant prudence? I think not. If I were not a lady, I would spit upon it. But, alas, I am. Farewell for now, my cosmos, Sara
Dearest Diary, I am growing somewhat indifferent to this romance. Mr. Dempsy grows more tiresome as the days pass, barely keeping one's hands to his own self. I have to constantly bring to his memory that though I am his, in essence we are not each others as of yet. His wit seems to worsen with each passing moon and I often wonder how I came to this state of California. Even the center of the name hints at fornication. I often lay awake in bed, gazing at the stars and wondering: if I were the model again, would I be so full of woe? But then, like all melodramatics must do from moment to moment, I remind myself that I am more than just a statue to be admired or a smile to perk at the passing of a word, "Action!" Alas, I miss something, though, and I am not sure as to where it went or what it was. I fear I am lost. Good night, my cosmos, Sara
Dearest Diary, Why do I care so? It was a socially demeaning show and I made far below a respectable and minimum wage. Who am I deceiving? It is the very fact of its profound pathetic nature that irritates me. I am far more superior than them. If they assume in their minds that they can progress without me in a manner as if I was never a fixture and be succesful, their arrogance is far worse than I had previously imagined. They are quite simply nothing without my glowing presence. They are nothing without my smile. Good night, my cosmos, Sara
Dearest Diary, I have decided, practically decided, to return to the state of Missouri. However, there will be changes. There must be changes. I will demand for a moral and social revolution. I shall clean up the disgrace that is the show and retake my position as model. I see from the articles that they have hired a new model, name of Rachel. I prompltly went out and did the only thing a civilized person could do, I Googled her. From her profile picture on Facebook, I could see instantly that I was the fairer choice. They will most assuredly accept my presence over hers. In any event, I have no further reason or discourse for staying in this wretched place. I have kept my dignity and virtue by calling off this charade with Mr. Dempsy. Sara shall smile once more. Good night, my cosmos, Sara
Dearest Diary, I most currently have Mr. Bob Lind's ditty "Elusive Butterfly" floating about inside my mind. Mr. Weaver's choice of this song for our opening credits sequence is probably the only good decision the gentleman has ever made. I am in Missouri, again, suffering from weather with schizophrenia. I met with Ms. DeWitt, Mr. Weaver, Mr. Little and Ms. Rachel and I was very adamant that I be motioned back into my rightful place, though they desired to have both models present. I sarcastically suggested that I was not going to take part in any "Price is Right" fiasco and Mr. Weaver quickly responded by stating, "Yeah, we could call them Weaver Girls." Mr. Weaver than cackled, the way he does when he amuses himself, in a high-pitched flamboyant manner. I prevented further damage to the situation with a harsh glare. Consequently, we came to a compromise. I can implement some new social and moral guidelines to follow and they get their double vision. First on the list, we will be covering our ankles from hence forth. Secondly, from this day forward, we will address one another with our appropriate titles and surnames. "Don't be concerned, it will not harm you. It's only me pursuing something I'm not sure of. Across my dreams with nets of wonder, I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love." Good night, my cosmos, Sara
Dearest Diary, I fear my virtue is fleeting. This morn, Mr. Little entered my presence without his sleeves. Not only did I gaze upon his wrists, but also his forearms and scrawny biceps. Had my father been present, rest his soul, he would have challenged Mr. Little's honor. It is comparable to living with baboons. Good night, my cosmos, Sara Copyright 2008 Nathan Weaver |
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| Last Updated ( Monday, 17 March 2008 ) |
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