My Auto-Biography Written By Myself

        Recently I’ve received a bit of fan mail by way of delusional, ego-boosted dreaming, and all  my fans want to know more about me. What drives me? What was my genesis? How am I so awesome at everything I do while others wither away like unwatered roses left sent from a philandering golfer? Was that even relevant anymore? Well I’ve decided to answer these questions and more in this minor biography. Now there are probably some people who know everything about me, my parents will no doubt read this and not learn anything new about my life. However since there’s been over 260 people who have read this, and I only have two parents that means there will be at least six or seven people who will find out something new about me here. In times like this, its fitting to begin at the beginning.

       I was born in 1988 the next thing I remember I was being shaken down for my lunch money in the second grade by the foreign exchange student that couldn’t speak any english. I’m joking but I guess I’ll just start at the point I think most relevent. In sixth grade I had a bitch for a teacher, that probably poisoned my attitude towards people of authority until I was at least halfway into the seventh grade. She was a royal C U Next Tuesday… remember its a family blog I can’t say cunt. Also in sixth grade I was diagnosed with ADD looking back on it I want to go back and slap the doctor in the face and tell him/her to fuck off. I was a sixth grade kid who was more excited with the prospect of learning about his own dick than what the capital of Spain was. Not a whole lot else happened in my junior high years that’s really worth mentioning, other than 9/11. But that wouldn’t really change my life directly until later on.

     As we move onto high school, it really gets interesting… hmm where do I start. As a freshman it became evident I would not be able to get by on looks and brute strength along. Why you ask, because over that summer I had put on about 30 lbs, I was a little bit chubby. Because of this I had to adapt. I did my research and found out that in the wild, animals use bright colors and venom against their predators to protect themselves. Since I had restricted access to poisons, and couldn’t quite get that sick tribal tattoo that would make me look badder than Vin Diesel, I had to find another way to make it through high school. That’s when I discovered that if you poop in your pants not even the bullies want to mess with you, just kidding. Talking is what I really discovered. I got to the point  where I could talk myself out of anything, I also discovered bluffing long before poker got popular. I would just bluff my way through altercations knowing full well how badly I would lose any fight I found myself in. Luckily I never had to show my hand and made it through alright, and wouldn’t ya know I even developed a sense of humor that would border on insanity. Anyway it was also in high school that I decided school was not for me, or rather I was not for school. Since I decided this early on, that meant I had a pretty easy tenure at high school. If I didn’t feel like doing it, I didn’t. I told my computer lab teacher that I had senioritis and she told me the class she was teaching was for sophomores, to which I simply replied “yes”. I decided to just be a mixture between the class clown, and the class ass hole. In debate I especially enjoyed taking the unpopular approach to everything, and winning. In creative writing classes I wrote short stories about spies with body counts so high, it once got me a ticket to the counselor to see if I was a part of the trench coat mafia. Looking back on it I realize that I loved high school for the same reason every kid loves it. You discover alcohol, sex, and most importantly they are some of your most formative years. My junior year of high school I thought I was black (read https://deviant11b.wordpress.com/2011/06/25/letter-to-my-formally-retarded-and-younger-self/ for more information on that delusion) yes like ghetto black. My pants showed off my boxers, my jerseys hung below my unfortunately too white penis, and my dialect was that of a rapper, or a mother on Maury finding out she’s going to have to bring in another guy to try to find her kids father. Looking back on it, its surprising I had any friends at that point in life. My senior year found me a much whiter me though, and I finally came into myself. When you stop caring what people think, you enjoy yourself much more. It’s incredibly cliché, but clichés are around for a reason…they work.

      As my senior year wrapped up, I was starting to look forward to my life as a soldier, I had enlisted early on in the year, and was set to go to basic in August 2007. I finished basic in February of ’08 a full 40 lbs skinnier than when I started. While in the Army I did cool things like fly in a helicopter, shoot all kinds of guns, be a gunner in a Bradley, which for all intents and purposes is a tank, and work with some awesome people. I’ll be getting out soon, and while I was writing this I got a letter saying I was accepted into a community college, which leaves me feeling like a kid on the worst little league base-ball team that still gets a trophy just because he showed up. But itll be a start, and I need to do it anyway my highschool transcript looks more sketchy than a hookers STD chart, and the classes I take will help me get into a college whose name I wont have to mumble through in conversation.

     Most biographies end with a death, thus bringing the book to an already known ending. However this one doesn’t end with a death, it ends in a tirade. It will also never be a book since no one wants to read about an average joe, who’s done nothing but serve in the Army with two deployments and four honorable years in. They would rather hear about Lindsay Lohan snorting coke, or who’s fucking who on camera. If you don’t believe me turn on the TV and see whats passing for news these days.

The End

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