So, I'm gonna ramble for a little while. Any objections? If so, shut up, no one cares what you say!

I am increasingly driven to write "memoirs." Which I think is ridiculous, 'cause sure, crazy shit has happened to me (crazy PEOPLE have happened to me), but I haven't done anyhting but whether it out, and get really depressed in a way that wasn't interesting, just more depressing. Honestly, I haven't even managed to go crazy in an interesting way. Which is good, 'cause you know, I like NOT being dead, scarred beyond recognition or in an institution. It's just not much to write about.

Anyways. A LOOOOOONG time ago in a magical time called 1960 a little baby girl was born. I can't tell you what she looked like, and I've never heard an stories surrounding this event. I know it was July 21, and that the babies mother had been hoping for a boy that she could name Andrew. Instead she got my Momma and named her Andrea.

Andrea, as a young girl liked to eat things that she wasn't supposed to, this resulted in trips to hospital to get her stomach pumped, and her mother keeping a bottle of epicac in the house.

Andrea was shy, introverted and loved to read. She grew in a small town near an army base in Southeastern Arizona.

Her mother is an insidious egotistical crazy person. Nancy is charming, and nice, and lovely, and manages to drive anyone around her batshit insane (just like her).

Tune in next time for: Andrea goes to college, drops out and marries a drugdealer!

Also soon to come: SEAN