It's Never Too Soon To Start a Blog...

...to publicly document the ridiculous and embarrassing moments that will indefinitely lead to years of therapy.

Please!  Like I won't need those years of therapy already.  I mean think about it...

...my mother is a self-proclaimed Empress who is plotting world domination.
...my grandmother is a former Queen who ran off to a nursing home, runs a prison, and who's best friends are all hookers.
...my aunt is a brownie eating, Bahama hopping, lush.

I could seriously go on and on.  I'm DOOMED!

For those who have yet had the wonderful pleasure of meeting me,  I am the wonderful...

the fabulous...

the FABUWONDERFUL...

OGRE CHILD!

MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
Aren't I just the CUTEST?
Three-years-old and I'm already stashing nuclear weapons under my bed!

As you can see I got my good looks from my mother
(which in her mind indicates all my terroristic ogre traits clearly came from my father's side of the family)

But seriously, I started this blog when I was still in diapers to help keep the grandparents up to date on the 4-1-1 that was my life.  Once they moved closer, I no longer needed a blog to serve that purpose.  However, I personally think it is absolutely ridiculous that I suddenly don't get a voice in this shit!  Suddenly, I'm just the little twit at the mercy of my mother's rambling fingers.

You should all know up front right here and now...
THAT BITCH LIES!!

Do NOT listen to a word she says about me.  I'm a sweet angel.  She just doesn't know the rules of being a great Mom.  She doesn't seem to understand we CAN have cake for breakfast EVERYDAY!  I SHOULD get a PB&J every time I want one because I don't like beans.  I MUST have her undivided attention at ALL times because I MIGHT do something amazing at any given second.  And I do expect her to be equally excited the first, fifth, twenty-seventh, and ninety-third time that I do something new and mundane.

Geeze!  I realize I didn't come with a manual, but it should be simple.  If I'm throwing a tantrum I clearly did NOT get my way.  FIX IT!

But no, parents are just dumb.  Teaching that woman how to make me 100% happy is like teaching a Golden Retriever how to fly.  She just looks at me with this dumb, give-me-a-treat look.  I'm pretty certain she was probably the RUNT of the litter, but she's my only Mom so what can I do about it?

Anyway, I totally have a ton of important shit to do around her.  Top of the list is a scientific study on where my mother's noise thresh hold is.  I'll start by dragging out every toy in the house that is capable of making an annoyingly ridiculous sound.  Wish me luck.