This is Me.

I am not that great of a person. Hell, who am I kidding? I am a horrible person. I find myself routinely dashing the hopes of others, violating the "unspoken laws" of society, and very much living for the hedonistic pleasures that life will give me. I am the center of my own world and, as far as I am concerned, everyone else's.

Knowledge of my planet-rotating personality only makes me become more of a bitch, and gives me more reason to break the social norms that everyone else so gingerly dances around. I've laughed at midgets openly to their faces, I've spat upon people because I didn't like their attitude, drank more then my share on multiple occasions, causing ungodly amounts of puking, pissing, and more blackouts then one should have in three lifetimes. I've hooked up with, beat up, or verbally assaulted almost everyone I've met. As each day progresses, I continue to add to the list of people that hate me, places I've been kicked out of, and (most importantly) people that worship me like a god. Truthfully, I like those last select few people best.

It's that last group of people that may throw you off a bit. If I am this bad of a person and willing to admit freely to anyone that asks that my head is stuck so far up my own ass that I can lick the back of my own teeth, why on God's green earth would people still want to be around me? Entertainment, ladies and gentleman. I am one entertaining bitch. I mean, think about it. You have a friend that, without trying to be anything but themselves, has given you hundreds of stories to tell your grandchildren. Wouldn't it be great? Wouldn't you keep them around too, even if they had puked on your front steps in the dead of winter causing an ice sheet of puke to be walked over the next morning, and then laughed at you when you fell on their ice puke? Admit it: you would, wouldn't you?

All I have to say to that is: Fuck you all using me for your own sadistic purposes. The stories are mine and, damn it, I am going to tell them the right way. My way.