BY KENDEL OKON

After reading too much of Henry David Thoreau's journals and diaries written by people I really couldn't care less about, I tried to figure out why people would read all of this stuff. I mean these people, who are writing down their deepest personal feelings on paper, are being paid for it. So I figured what a way to make money, right? Before I get a year of my life published for the whole world to read, I thought I'd give you a sample of my diary right now.

Monday. Today on my way home from school, I found a $100 bill on the ground. I picked it up and took it to Lord and Taylor where I planned to spend it all on clothes. I walked in the store and found out I was their one millionth customer. This meant I was entitled to anything I wanted in the store. Oh wow, (this is my deep personal though) I don't really need all of this stuff. So being the nice person I am, I mean after all with me there the store could and would probably go bankrupt. I just bought a scarf and walked out.

Tuesday: Warren Beatty called me today and asked me to star in his new movie. But gosh, (enter deep personal thought) I don't want to let John Travolta down. He really wanted me to dance with him in his new movie, "Sunday Morning Hangover," the sequel to "Saturday Night Fever." I told Warren darling to call me back in a couple of days.

Wednesday: I just got back from Studio 54. What a wild place! There was whipped cream floating around on the floor and spread all over the walls. Bianca Jagger asked me where I got my jeans. I told her K‑Mart. K‑Mart? She asked me if she was a new designer from France or something. I told her K‑Mart was Calvin Klein's sister. After dancing until about three in the morning, we went to get something to eat and drink.

Thursday: Warren called again. About the only exciting thing that happened today was the African Safari I went on after lunch.

Friday: The Bee Gees want me to produce their new album. Wasn't it enough that I wrote "Stayin' Alive" and "Night Fever" for them? I mean it's a lot of work to write songs for grown men who sing like little female mice. Well, I'll have to think it over on my way to Hollywood where I have to pick up my two Oscars.

Saturday: I finally got my check from John Travolta for his dance lessons. Farrah came over for some hairstyling tips. Steve came over for some new material. He told me that the "Excuse me" idea I gave him was getting sort of old. Warren called again. I told him Farrah could use a job.

Sunday: Warren called me to ask me what color tuxedo he should wear to the Academy Awards. Farrah and Lee came over for dinner. She was in a bad mood so she started throwing darts at my brother's Cheryl Ladd poster. Then she really got upset when I told her Charlie called and wanted me to be an angel. She began to throw darts at me. Oh well; you know how those big stars are.

The above was an excerpt from my diary's chapter on "If You're Going To Lie, Lie Well." This can also be found under the chapter entitled "Fifty Lies to Tell Your Parents When You Come Home at 3." If you have any more ideas for chapters that I could write about, I'll be at the laundromat trying to get the whipped cream off of my K‑Mart designer jeans.