Is this a good comedy diary?

I made a comedy diary. Do you think I should finish it:

11:30am: In bed. Can’t be bothered to go downstairs, even though I’m practically DYING of hunger right now. Besides, the goobies (aka my family) are downstairs, raving to Abba. That is how queer and utterly mental they are. So, to prevent goob disease, I must stay with my cosy duvet and not take off my rubber ducky jammies.
11:31am: “CHLOE, GET UP! NOW!” My dad shouted. How dare he shout at an awesome person like me, when I’m trying to get my beauty sleep. Shame on him. I snuggled up to my duvet. My dad is such a frog. And cog. And dog.
11:32am: Why have I got peanut butter and banana sandwiches in my bra?
11:33am: Molly my cat must have nicked them and snuck into my basket.
11:34am: I say basket, but its really a giant mountain of clothes, constantly growing in my bedroom.
11.40am: Gah. Stupid converses. Why can’t they make them easy to put on? Time for another family torture activity: a family bike ride. Why can’t my family be normal? Why does my insane dad wear knee-length yellow socks? And why does my mum have a lap-dancers closet?
11.50am: Pant pant. Ugh, why can’t they make hills easy to ride on.
“CHLOE! RUMBLE BUMBLE!” My dad shouted What, in the queer name of Elvis’s underpants does that mean? Knowing my Dad, he probably thinks it’s some sort of cool saying. I should keep a mental note to tell my Dad to NOT think.
12.30am: I think my toes are wonky. The big one is slightly slanted. Oh dear, I hope I don’t get athletes foot like Delilah. She’s my bestest friend. Although she has giant ears I “lubbie” her as my younger brother, Jordan says.
12:31am: Hahahahaha lubbie.
12:32am: I think I officially need a psychiatrist. Well, madness runs in the family. So does stupidness.
1.00am: Met up with the girls in Starbucks. That’s me, Delilah, Bridget, Jodie, Allix, Tamara and Kara. We like to call ourselves the “Cool Clique”. That is what we like to call ourselves.
“So, two days until St Sadness. Any ideas on how to fill in the crappy hours of boredom and torture?” Dellie said. Wow. I’m surprised she could say that all. Mind you, she has got a massive gob. I sipped my frappuccino (its some sort of icy beverage, don’t ask me too much, search it on wikipedia) and started thinking.
I know its a weird writing style, but its how I like to write.

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