Chapter 1: Why my life should be written down

I've written and rewritten this approximately one hundred times. And never in a million years would I exaggerate.

Will I rewrite this? Scrap it for the 109th time? Odds are pretty good.



So, I've been thinking for a while about starting a blog. I've been told that some people think I'm interesting (? I don't really understand either, but I'm going to run with it). And I thought, "Shit yeah. Ive got really important things to talk about, like jam. And other things." But, I then realized that I don't know how to do that. Nor am I really even sure what the fuck a blog is. So.



My name is Chelsey. I wish my name was Seth Rogan. I'd be friends with Adam Sandler and you would be so jealous of me.



I was born once. As far as I'm told, it was an alright time. I'm the youngest of 3, therefore (I wish I could do the three therefore dots, but I'm on a computer and I don't think they have that symbol yet. I have faith that it's coming soon.) my parents didn't really give a nugget of their own feces that I wanted to chill in their family. Baby book? Haha no. Baby pictures? I don't even know what I looked like as a small person. Immunization? Pfft. Who needs that. Actually, that last one was a lie. I had to have my shots so I could go to school. My mom had very important naps to have in the afternoon, and there was no way I was going to cramp her style.



Side note: I'm peeing right now AND typing to you at the same time. Choo nasty.



Anywho, while my mom smoked cigarettes, napped and repainted our kitchen every 35 minutes, I was out in the world. Getting all my life experiences, ya know? And when I say out in the world getting life experiences, I mean sitting in the tube by myself at school, getting ketchup chips in my eye. Maybe my definition of life experience is different than yours, okay?

Aside from burning eyes, 2 time hand me down clothes, the fact that I couldn't read or write my own name, (first day of kindergarten, our names were on laminated dinosaur cards... First one up, last one down.) I think I was a pretty cool kid.



My sisters used to play this game with me (it was pretty much my favourite thing) where they'd spin around in circles over and over again, fall down unconscious, wake up with English accents, and pretend they didn't know who I was.



You can kind of grasp the kind of kid I was. Awesome.



Next up...

Chapter 2: Why you don't put kittens in your lunch pail. A life lesson well learned.