I learned that lesson the hard way. Unfortunately for you, before I get into that nonsense story, I'm going to tell you a little about me, myself. I was born Chris Larsen Jr, son of Chris and Cynthia, in Concord, MA on September 7th 1988. In a bit of bad luck, I made if past the first few days of birth and was released from the hospital. Since then my parents would continuously tell me they regret not smothering me with a yellow pillow (I guess yellow is their least favorite color, or race, it's all a little fuzzy). I am a white male, and I molest children. Seems almost cliché nowadays, which is why I never cared to tell anybody. I mean, I'm just another Joe Smith getting some from little Johnny, and that just doesn't make the headlines anymore. Anyways, forty to life is the reason I tell the kids I'm Santa Claus and if they tell anyone, they won't get any presents.
On a more serious note, today was the first day I had learned about this blog. I had a tough time trying to figure out what to write about. I had a serious case of writers block, and this stone wall wasn't going to be knocked down by some David Hasselhoff, no way no how, too strong. So I asks myself, "do you write about yourself?" "No" is the proper answer. I'm a loser and I'm boring. What about a little boy on a log, thinking about his mother and adopted sister kneading dough? Well, this one I had to think out. I mean its solid, but I want to appeal to a large audience, and the child molester market is hot right now, while the dough kneading has really taken a hit with the economy in its current state of dieting. I guess in the future I'll write about my life (which sucks) or anything that may pop into my head at any given moment (which sucks), but I was forced to post on the first day, and I knew I shouldn't.
The Celtics just lost, and that saddened me, but then Adam Morrison was talking post game and that lifted my spirits. This one also goes out to my mom. Tommy Heinsohn said "The Celtics need a mental vacation," and I would like to think that he was talking about me right there. I mean, I seem to be the solution of every problem of every person; male, female, Chinese (who aren't as smart as they appear to be).
Life becomes too much to handle, and so I write... To this I write to thee, and now I will go and play Gears Of War 2 with my bro Nicholas, who got his first Mohawk today and makes a big brother proud once in a blue moon. Don't smoke pot.
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