A note from me to you - Hello, and thanks so much for putting up with me this long. I'm just stopping by to tell you that this looks so much cooler in a word document because the font is a really sassy one, and it allows you to adjust it and stuff. This note is about as pointless as the rest of this thing, so I figured you wouldn't mind a break from the stupidity. I'll let you get back to your reading now. Thanks for being fabulous.

Chapter Two – An Apology for the Short Chapter One & Some Other Stuff

I should clarify and say that was the lamest "about me" in existence. It's probably gonna go in the Guiness World Record Book. I don't think I spelled Guiness correctly. It isn't "genius" or anything, if you were wondering. I don't know… google it. I can't keep up with these things.

Anyway, I am truly sorry for the lame "about me" in the first chapter. Little tidbits of information about me will come out in the woodwork – or in the story. Whatever phrase floats your boat. Really, this whole entire thing is an about me. HOW FREAKING AWESOME IS THAT?

Here's something else about me: I live in a hickville. I also like to call it a Redneckville. There's a hallway in my school that I call "Redneck Hell" instead of "Redneck Hall" because of all the good ol' boys sittin' out there. That, for all of you classy high class people that haven't been in a truck or don't say "y'all" every one second, is a country town. In my little town dip clogs the water fountains, the rednecks are the popular kids, and it's almost against the law to not drink moonshine.

Dip, if you come from a sane part of the world and haven't ever witnessed it, is a can of tobacco. It is also known as snuff, I think. It's really gross. You just tuck a piece of tobacco under your lip and occasionally spit into an empty Dr. Pibb bottle so you don't get caught. You know, because they're both brown? The only factor that might give away the dipping thing is… well, you're spitting into the bottle, not drinking out of it.

Anyway, I'm gonna have to ask you to stop getting me distracted. The other readers are wasting just as much time as you reading this, and they do not appreciate the random detours.

My ex-boyfriend dips. The ex-boyfriend's name was Max (not really, but Max is a good generic name to use if you don't really want to reveal the actual name of your ex-boyfriend; you're welcome for the pro-tip) and it was literally the grossest thing ever. It actually ruined the relationship.

That was a lie. It didn't ruin the relationship; his lying about dipping ruined the relationship. He told me quit, and he didn't really quit. I'm a fairly nice person, but when you lie to me, I turn into Godzilla. Literally.

It rocks.

Not really.

I mean, I do turn into Godzilla, but it doesn't really rock.

Okay, yes it does.

He also started picking fights, blamed stupid stuff on me, and wanted me to hold his children in my uterus. Well, the last fact wasn't really proven, but sometimes you just get the vibe. Have you ever gotten that vibe from someone? Like, from someone in the grocery store or something? The "let me impregnate you" or you if you're a dude, "let me be impregnated by you" feeling? Maybe it's the first one if you are a dude… I am not here to judge. *

If you haven't, you are really missing out. WHAT?

Sometimes I type in all caps and it makes me look really aggressive. I'm not really aggressive. I've been told I look like a puppy. How is a puppy aggressive? Get it together. Sometimes I type in caps because it just looks like it flows better. And sometimes I've just had a really bad day and the caps-lock button just makes me feel better about myself. And sometimes I JUST TYPE IN CAPS BECAUSE I WANT TO.

They say I'm pretty fly for a white guy. I don't eat popcorn.

I'm done with this chapter. I am going to have to let it go on its own and it's just going to have to spread its little wings and fly away on its own. I believe in you, Chapter Two. Make your mommy proud. I am your mommy, just in case you were wondering.

Make me proud.

*I'm judging you