This will be a quick one today; I wrote a tome on Monday relaying the entire Barry Gibb saga and it left me a bit behind on other things. I’ve spent most of the day today tracking a new original demo at my apartment for the very first time, which has been eye-opening and incredibly, self-pityingly frustrating.
My real reason for writing is C, or my better, more-reluctant-to-share, half. He has now forbidden me to use his full name in my posts, and asked that I go back through these first 8 Reasons and change his name to either “C”, or “Cannonball Mckrakken”. I have chosen the former.
He does not want me to be so personal when it comes to information about him, and to be a good partner, I have to be okay with that. I do tend to over-share, to my own detriment. This blog is about me and for me, and shouldn't include my poor private significant other if he doesn't want it. So be advised: let him be him, and I'll provide you with plenty of entertainment. For your reading pleasure, I have provided three possible backstories for my fiancee:
1. He is actually from the future, where everyone in the world has outrageous French accents, and has been sent back in a time tunnel Terminator-style to observe the Frenchification of the human race and bear witness to the Earth finally "getting" what great bread really tastes like.
2. He is a hardened biker dude, with extensive tattoos covering his body that were painfully removed with lasers just before we met. He grew up on a steady diet of nails and was raised by motorcycles.
3. He is the greatest dancer who has ever lived, but he does not, under any circumstances, ever dance.
Thank you for your attention in this matter, and leaving dude alone. He thanks you too.