Sho, here I am. Completely terrified.
Okay, so where do I begin? Probably not the beginning anyway. Bloody hell I hate the beginnings of things. Always had, always will. Or, perhaps, perhaps not, we’ll see in the future. It’s just very awkward, like shall I jump straight into it? Or shall I make some strange slide into this, make it all seem natural? Maybe I’ll just walk away from the computer, make a second cup of tea and watch Game of Thrones? Actually, the third option sounds veeery tempting. Oh for Christ sakes, let’s just get on with it.
Hello, you can call me C. Most non-Swedish people tend to call me that, quite young if I say so myself and laugh at everything. Yeah, that’s pretty much it. Quite a boring introduction isn’t it? Why do I do this if I’m not very into writing strange things about me for the whole wide world to see?
Well, it’s story time now. Ladies and gentlemen, and the hens, of course, sit down, pour a cup of tea or coffee if you’re that kind of person, sit down in your favourite chair and relax because here comes the most boring story you have ever, ever heard.
A long time ago, actually it was a month ago but whatever. My friends and cousin and family and the rest of the world began pointing out that I – when reading books – need to let off some steam. And they’re completely right. Compare to me they don’t like reading very much so naturally, they don’t like it when I rant about books and dumb hot characters. When I tell them who’s head I want to chop off or who I ship with whom. They don’t even know what that means! Are they stupid or what? (I’m getting worked up here). And for you who somehow ends up spending your time reading this, my friends and I’s relationship is based on the fact that we mock each other, one of them can say something mean to me and I’ll smile and say something even worse. Mostly because we know each other’s limits. However, if you’re an outsider and you make one of us cry or feel sad we will burn your head off.
Back to the story, then one of my friends said “start a blog” and I was looking at her like she had lost her brain. Me? Starting a blog? About books? Hell no. Aaaand now I’m here.
Yees, I barely understand it myself. The end.
Yes, I am aware, I have a foul mouth, no I’m not gonna clean it. Nevertheless, while reading this you have to imagine it to be a female version of Jason Statham, because, that is how I sound when I try to speak English. You may wonder why I even bother pointing it out? Well, I have a ridiculous strange obsession with the British accent. Some of you are probably laughing at the moment, I am.
Have a good day ladies and gentlemen, and hens of course. Is that even how you say hen in plural and English for that matter? And I’m not thinking about the chicken people, I may not be English but I’m not a moron okay, I know a hen is also a chicken. Jeeze I’m talking about people who identify themselves not as a girl neither a boy here, not chickens. Ha, this looks fantastically dumb now when I read it. Wait, does the Eglish language even have a word for non-girls and non-boys? This might be the biggest “oh shit” in my entire life.