Numero Uno!

Well, let me begin by saying I don't know much about blogging. This is my first blog. Whenever I hear the word blog, it makes me think of a bugger, a-crusty-hard-to-scrape-from-the-nostrils bugger. One of those buggers that embeds itself? No. A bugger that implants? No. One of those buggers that sinks its fucking bugger roots into the hidden crevices of my hairy nose. A bugger that latches onto a hair and won't let go. A son-of-a-bitch bugger that I have to scrape with my manly fingernails from my nose while tearing out a hair and bursting a capillary just to flick the fucker across the room. Yes, that's what I think of when I hear the word 'blog'—a lodged bugger.
So, why am I writing a blog? I don't know, actually. The reason is there, but I haven't communicated the rationale, the motive, the cause of typing this shit. The need to write has always been with me. I write out grocery lists. I write out my plans for the day. I have written my life goals. My bucket list. The attributes of a perfect life partner. I write, and I write, and I write. So why not write a bugger, I mean blog?
My only worry is in getting myself in trouble. Because I always get myself into trouble when I write. People will read this shit and think that the words are me. I wrote about rape in a creative writing class, and I was asked to leave. I was put on suicide watch when my doctor found me writing about killing myself. My writings were on full display at both of my criminal trials for burglary in two different states.
What? Have I said too much?
I write because ... I have no choice in the matter. I eat because I get hungry, and I write because it is a natural ramification? No. Inbred development? No. Instinctive consequence? Maybe. I write because it's me.
So I will begin writing this bugger, and I hope to inspire some of you to read it until a moderator turns off the spigot.
Next up, how many times have I tried to kill myself? Or Why am I a PornHub model?