Biography of a 21 year old

A while back I was approached about writing in a magazine.
I talked about it here, I'm sure. I was pretty stoked about it.
Then, like with everything in my life, the opportunity was unfairly snatched from me.
I don't know if I wrote about that beyond "FUCK THIS SHIT! I FUCKING HATE MY LIFE!" or something to that effect.

Well, once again, it has been offered.
WHY was it offered? Because the stupid bitch editor is writing up my godson's biography.
Me: My godson's BIOGRAPHY? HE'S 21! What the fuck is this bitch going to write about?!
Mom: That's where you come in...
Me: What the fuck does she want?
Mom: She wants you to revise it and edit any information she might have left out or jotted incorrectly.
Me: Here's an idea-- CONTACT MY GODSON. I'm sure the piece will drastically improve the moment she collects actual quotes from the kid himself.
Mom: No, no. That's not the point... she's writing a biography...
Me: Without his permission? What kind of fucking idiot is she?
Mom: She just needs accurate information.
Me: How about she actually TALK to the kid? She hasn't even crossed a word with him in real life. Not ONE word. What an opportunistic bitch.
Mom: AnoMALIE! Show more respect!
::I move my right hand in an up-and-down jerk-off motion::
Mom: ANOMALIE!!

Twenty minutes later, Mom walks back into my bedroom.
Mom: She says you can collaborate pieces whenever you want...
Me: She can fucking blow me.

Me? Resentful? Naaaaaahhhhhhhh.

And now, for the best fucking song in the universe, my anthem:

Best. Song. Ever.
(and the symbolism in the music video? Fan-fucking-tastic)