Where am i supposed to begin?

well i've completed all the simple steps of "how to make a blog" and it seems like i've made one. but now i need to make it good. I also have to start somewhere, but where? how? It would make most sense to just start at the beginning and then I can just go wherever from there. 

Two human beings met and married. Late into their marriage they said "maybe we should have a kid, everyone else seems to be doing it." So they made one and that one happened to be me; Lola Lorber. Thank goodness! That was probably the best decision they've ever made. It was such a good decision and they did so well the first time, they thought, "why would we ever need to make another when the first one turned out fabulous?".  Shit, blogging sucks because I'm already concerned about censoring myself. I'm thinking "will my followers read this and think i'm a stuck up only child snob who loves herself too much?" or "ugh this girl is SUCH an only child" 

Well readers, even though I probably only have a few and those few are only going to be the select few that i copy and paste my URL to in an instant message "READ MY BLOG!!" Well, to you few, I hope you DO think those things. Think whatever you want. At least i'm writing my thoughts to the public and not censoring myself. 

Anyway, D, my mother, is a very special woman. Without disclosing any super personal or private information I will tell you that she takes on other peoples accents when she is speaking to people from foreign countries. Particularly in France, she speaks English to the waiters like she is a french woman trying to speak english "eh, do you have zee vin rose, oh oh, i mean zee red wine?" (It's actually not that bad, i'm exaggerating a little just to give you the idea of what it's like and how annoying it can get). It's even worse on the phone.

R, is my father. He's a P.C kinda guy. He likes doing things the hard way. he likes to remind me about how he grew up in the projects. He also likes to talk about how he went to college when he was only 16 years old. How he had his first job at 11. Why does he need to brag to me about this? Should i be apologizing for being average smart? Should I be apologizing for not getting a job until I was 16, and not going to college until 18? He really choses the wrong things to brag about. He takes pride in the fact that our T.V is older than his daughter (me, 18 years). He's happy that we have iRiver mp3 players instead of iPods and RePlay TV instead of Tivo. He used to brag about how our apartment was so big that it had 16 closets, but really? What does that even mean? We can keep or fake shit in them? We're opening a storage company? We can keep all of his memorbilia from growing up in the ghetto?

Well, that's my first post. Deal with it. And mom, dad, sorry if this offends you. love, lola