The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
May 28, 2005


It is early Diary. Not even Manolo is awake. Check that, he is right behind me. It looks like it will be a pleasant day on the weather front. The forecast calls for clear skies and low winds. The lawn team has just left and the grounds have never looked so nice. They only broke one floodlight in the process. Call Guinness. The record book, not the brewing company, Diary. The smoothie or drink Manolo handed me has round things in it called "boba." It has blown my mind. You might think the "boba" would be firm, but they are in fact soft. They are a strange consistency as well. I can't put my finger on it. Nonetheless the drink is delicious and Manolo has pushed the B-12 with the skill of a Dmitri Mendeleev in his prime. Tito is singing something that sounds like the theme song to "Airwolf." I think I owe Ernie Borgnine some money in more ways than one. Cash the check, Diary.

[signed] Nick

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