So, part of the custody thing is that I'm supposed to keep a journal to prove that I'm mentally stable, or what-fucking-ever. Well, here it fucking is. You happy, Lis? Bitch.
Where the hell am I supposed to start with something like this? I'm not writing it for me, so whoever the hell is reading this, let's start right at the beginning, huh? My name is Sigurd Andreassen. Thirty-one years ago, my pa fucked my ma and out popped me, nine months later, at St. Olav's University Hospital in Trondheim. Never was rich, but I don't think any of us cared too much - oh, right, yeah. Second kid of three. Dad was a priest, too. Had to get that magic number. I was always big and got into a lot of fights, so, naturally, club hockey scooped me up at the tender age of thirteen. Made my way through high school via hockey and alcohol, 'cause like fuck was I about to do much of anything else. Spent a year chain-smoking after graduating, didn't have the money or the ambition to get into college. One of my friends gave me the bright fuckin' idea to pack a duffel and go soul-searching around the world for a couple years - looking back on it, I think he was joking. But hell if I didn't do it.
That was a pretty godawful time. I got married.
I've spoke English most my life, and got myself roped in to the Colonial Marines by a fucking suit five full bloody years ago. Hell if I know why I signed up, but to the cunt old me with a cigarette and five bucks in a faded jacket, it sounded like the cool thing to do. The pennies they were offering seemed like a lot at the time. Guess oversized hockey players with a lot of pent-up aggression are a key demographic for the USCM.
I went hunting a couple times with my old man, always thought I had a knack for shooting straight. Turns out I did. They threw a smartgun and a promotion in my hands as soon as they could; big fucker like me's the guy who they want holding it, I guess. I went through demo-man training in 2183, nabbed an E-5 slot last year as a result of it. Oh, yeah, and my fucking wife filed for divorce because she 'didn't like how I was spending so much time with other women.' IT'S A MIXED-GENDER CONTINGENT YOU BITCH. NO FUCKING SHIT SOME OF MY SQUADMATES ARE GONNA HAVE CUNTS.
Fuck this shit. Fuck your stupid journal. I'm a goddamn Sergeant, I have more important things to do than scribbling in a journal like some kind of fucking fairy. Eat shit.
Dossier notes are included to the side, as some kind of mocking afterthought.
Vitals
Name: Sigurd Hrolf Andreassen
Hair: Light Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Skin: V. Fair
Height: 6'7 (2.0m)
Weight: 242 lbs (109kg)
Distinguishing Marks: Facial Scarring
Disabilities: Hyperaggressive tendencies
Place of Birth: Trondheim, Norway
DOB: 01/03/2155
Age: 31
Next of Kin: Jakob Andreassen (Father) Karoline Andreassen (Mother) Viktor Andreassen (Brother) Susanna Andreassen (Sister)
Nationality: Norway (US Contingent on Service to United States Colonial Marines)
Employer: United States Colonial Marines
Rank: Sergeant E-5
