Who Is That Freaky Chick
Who am I? Frankly, I've been wondering that myself for the past 18 years.
I live in the Great
Unshaved Armpit of America (more commonly known as Indiana). My given name is
Heather, and I despise it. First of all, I was named after a charcter on a major
soap opera; where's the pride in that? Second of all, it's so damned common. I have the
delusion of being a creative soul and the name "Heather" automatically identifies me with
a thousand other teenage girls. Thirdly, I don't believe it suits me at all. "Heather" connotes
a tall, slender young woman with a pretty face who curls her hair and shaves her legs. Definitely not me at all.
I'm
a cynical person by nature, pragmatist by will.
I don't care if the glass is half-empty or half-full; I want to know if someone
spit in it while I was gone. Yes, I'm a paranoiac as well. I am the
quintissential sarcastic, witty, chain-smoking best friend. I would never be
the leading lady, but I'm one hell of a supporting actress. It depresses me a bit that I fit the
description of a stock movie character so well. I'm the kind of
person everyone remembers as "that one sarcastic chick".
I am not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. I'm mean-spirited when I choose to be. I've been known
to cheat on various academic endeavours, but who hasn't? I smoke like a chimney
with no respect for my own health or that of others. I'm lazy to a fault.
I drive like a maniac. I type like a dyslexic epileptic. I still sleep with a blankie.
I spend my spare time listening to music, reading, studying, studying, studying, and rotting my brain through television.
That's all I feel comfortable divulging to unknown readers. I'm glad if
I meet with your expectations, but if I don't, I'll sleep just as well.
Email: satanslapdog@hotmail.com