Are There Vodka? It's Me Chelsea.....

...........and Stephan. That's right, I said it. You see, I 've predicted my future, and you know what I see after age 45? Being sober when I'm drunk, drunk when I'm sober, toting around a martini glass and a long Tiffany & Co cigarette holder, wearing all black with constant over-sized sunglasses. Anyway, I finally finished Chelsea's "Are You There Vodka? It's Me Chelsea" and, oh my god, I loved it. From her fake movie career when she was 8, to her constant pot smoking while in Costa Rica with her dad who got first-class tickets on the plane by saying it's their honeymoon. From what I can tell, her life is one big piece of shit. That, is a completely serious compliment. How? Because, after reading her book, I've realized that my life is almost as big as her's piece of shit. Recently, i came out of my closet to my mother, her response was, "Ok, I kinda already had an idea". I mean, am I that fucking obvious? I guess so, my grandmother (who hasn't actually been told yet) gives me these strange looks once in a while, specifically whenever I do something that is considered gay. Also, I recently found out that my family history involves drugs, alcoholism, narcicism (big surprise), racism, abuse, and suspicious deaths. Moving away from my horribly scarred family, Chelsea just has this manner of telling stories that is all her own. From calling her father "bitch-tits" & "Shamu", to her detraction (almost disgust) of red-headed men, one whom she slept with in one of her stories to "know what it's like". Out of five stars, I give it six & a half. Well, I'm off to go to dream land (sleep, idiot) where hopefully I will see either, Jim Sturgess, Callum Blue, Jamie Bell (I really am going british), James Lafferty, or Macy's. What? I can dream that my cheap ass mom will actually take me shopping for once, instead of a browse at Sunglasses Hut, leaving me pissed and leaving empty handed. Toodles and Nighty Night (look at the time posted bitch).