What an egotistical git I hear you say.  I would tend to agree (she said, broken)

My Mother, from Birmingham in the UK married my father, a German American and we all lived together happily in Bayside, New York.  I would spend my time in deep thought, unable to grasp the intricacies of telling the time and unhappy at the prospect of going to the toilet (it was a real problem,  although now, I believe it was because I was above defecation). Time passed and so sadly did my father which caused my Mother and I to pack up and move to Australia for a while before finally picking the erm....sunnier climes (?) of Birmingham in the UK.  We lived with my Grandparents until we were settled into our own place.  It was there that my many accidents (I haven't even scratched the surface with my current stories) started to happen and where I fell foul to many childhood illnesses such as chronic nose-bleeds, plagues of boils (the arse ones were the worst) and abscesses in the ears. A sickly child, I grew into a sickly adult (but that's jumping the story).

It was around this time that I met the original 'Bad Santa', a man so obviously evil that it is a wonder that I escaped with my life! Note the look of childish innocence on my face.  I still had a cute American accent at this point.  It wouldn't be long before I sounded like a cross between Jasper Carrot and Ozzy Osborne and my path in life would change from one of sweet loveliness to serious criminal mastermind (the big jelly baby scandal which is a story I will post when I can be arsed).

.....and then I joined the armed services.  I would like to point out that I am proudly sporting the ONLY badge that I ever got.  Ironically it was for cleaning things.  I had to go to an old woman's house, dust her shelves and cook her some rock cakes.  Yes I was a shit Brownie, and today I remain shit at cleaning.  My bed sheets look like the Turin Shroud and my bedroom is akin to a bomb site, rubble and broken down crap everywhere.

I worked hard, got a serious new haircut and rose through the ranks (well, I got to old to be a feckin' Brownie).  I am proudly sporting the NO badges I ever earned as a Guide.  I was the most shameful Guide in our pack and yet I didn't care for I was a rebel disguised as a nice kid.  I am fed up of writing my bio now and I can't be arsed to get any more pics from then up until the one I have for now.  'sides it is most probable that no one is reading this and no one would give a shiny shite whether I complete it or not. I could say that I became an Olympian, the first woman in space or discovered that I was the president's love child if I liked.........I'm none of those things.  My tales of humiliation kinda explain what happened to me as I grew up. 

This was me at the start of 2006.  What a miserable faced bitch!  See how I have changed since I was that kid?  Broken, that's what I am, BROKEN - and what the hell happened to my hair?  HORMONES, that's what!  Feckin, stinkin' hormones that gave me hair I had no concept of how to control.  Brush the stuff and it is a giant great frizz, leave it and it turns into tangles and dreadlocks (bizarre).  I have had to cut brushes and a gerbil out of this hair.  A couple of years ago I got it caught in chicken wire covering a thatched bus-stop and had to tear a great chunk out to escape.  I am currently single and I live with my best mate Phoenix.  I suspect that we'll end up sharing forever and as she reckons she'll die first I'll be left all alone only to be found dead and rotted into the carpet covered in flies by the Life of Grime tv crew.  That's it.  I can't be bothered to say any more.