I have quite a few stories to tell. Quite many, in fact. I’ve been accumulating stories my whole short life long, and while it’s a fact that I believe most of us can claim, I have held onto the notion that somehow (fingers crossed!) my stories are possibly… special? Which, surely, if I’m capable of producing unique and fantastic stories, can only mean that I myself might be… I am… I won’t write the words for risk of having anyone read ’em and actually believe me. Where’s the fun in that? The truth is, I find myself commendably entertaining, and not just for boasting the memories and events I’ve collected steadily for the past twenty years. More than that, I retain some stubborn idea that it’s not just interesting things that happen to me, but that I have a knack for telling these stories to my lovely and (usually) willing audience. That there is really where I consider myself unique: By possessing a strong personal conviction that I can tell a good tale and, consequently, use my meritable story skills to convince all unsuspecting observers that I am… well, you know.
And now for the part that really matters, where I must stay true to my word and show you that I really am that cool, and also capable of entertaining you, my dear audience. I want you to get to know me a little better (this is actually a very crucial step if I’m going to be sharing my stories with you, although many of you will hear them and think I’m a little nuts anyways) and I want start telling you. Damn, do I have quite a bit to say. That’s where I will wrap up, for now. The gauntlet has been thrown (by me, for me) and I have a point to make. ‘Till next time, folks, thank you, I’ll be here all week.