Dear Journal,

Around the club people have been saying I'm the next Tiger Woods…whoever that is. I don't care though. I'm so awesome at golf.

Dear Journal,

I tried to run this journal through the washer and dryer to get rid of the smell….it didn't really work. Now all these pages are wrinkled.

Dear Journal,

Still awesome at golf.

Dear Journal,

I lost my favorite romance novel: Detective XXX. It's not really romance. More just straight up sex. All the time. And I will never live it down if Juliet is the one to find it.

Dear Journal,

I found my novel…under Artemis's pillow. Don't ask me why I search his room…daily. I won't tell you.

Dear Journal,

I've been thinking about WHY Artemis had my novel under his pillow. It could just be because he's going through puberty and finally becoming a man. My little baby is growing up…it makes me want to cry….I mean (ahem) punch him in the back and congratulate him on becoming an adult in a gruff, manly voice.

Dear Journal,

I've become the best golfer at the club. I think I'll enter the tournament they're hosting two weeks from now. I will definitely win.