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UnBooks: Confessions of a Tonsorial Artist.
Hi! My name is Dave and I decided to write this delightful UnBook about the pros and cons of being a Tonsorial Artist. Just fab ins't it? Now some of you may think that my job is not very important at all, but I can assure you darlings when it comes to building self-confidence through the unique skill of doing away with those dead ends and adding life to those gray strands of hair which scream "Amg im an old tart," at you every single morning when you look in the mirror, then what I do is very important. I mean seriously, is a phsychologist going to make you feel better by confirming that you feel aweful first, or is a good little nip and tuck, a few bottles of merlot and a fabulous fuck not gonna do the job? Just sweep those silly little niggling lies that that bald old man told you under the carpet and live happily ever after. It's really that simple! In the following chapters I describe my heart-wrenching journey to achieving my dreams. Hopefully by reading my story I can inspire you to forget about your self-hatred and move on with your life.
edit Chapter 1: When I was just a little girl
I asked my mommy, "What shall I be?"
"Snicker," Just kidding, i'm not really about to sing Ka Sera-sera to you, the song just seemed to get stuck in my head at the time. I guess it has alot to do with the fact that as a young boy I was very confused and that song just reminds me of the difficulty involved with growing up and not knowing what I wanted to be, handsome and rich or pretty and poor? I mean, seriously It was so difficult to choose between being a fireman and marrying one.
But anyway enough about that. I was born somewhere in the Namibian dessert. I can't say that I know or remember anything about the desset because shortly after being born, my mother moved to syngapore. Can't say I remember much about that either, after moving through five or six countries we ended up living in Holland when I was five. Just me and mum.
Apparently she accidentally got pregnant with me after a one night stand with a hippie who collected crystals and stones and who happened to be travelling through Africa at the time, so of course back then they didn't have cell-phones and didn't bother to keep contact. I'd absolutely die without my cell-phone! I have to have my four hours a day of cyber chat sites at least.
My mother says that she struggled to breast feed me, because I would not drink from anything but a bottle. I still wonder to this day why that is. Anyhoo, so I ended up being raised an only child with no father. I had a few friends, all of whom turned out to be female for some reason. I guess I preferred playing "house-house" instead of "cops and robbers", but you know what they say, "different strokes for different folks".
So I guess that the moral of this chapter is if you mix a camel and donkey, you get a wonkey? Something like that.
edit Chapter 2: My phsychadelic, emo, desperate, teenage-angst, no-one-gets-me stage
Whew! That's alot of words to describe alot of emotions. Well come on! You hate yourself, so you know what I am talking about when I say that I was one emotional teen. It all starts there anyway; you meet a girl, she becomes your best friend, and then you sleep with her after getting trashed one night because it is so cool to get shitfaced all the time and then you wake up feeling like you just committed incest. I am not saying that that's what happened necess-okay fine I am.