The answer, dear friends, is yes.
And I call you a friend because this is my blog and that's what I declare. See how simple that was? Now I can refer to you as my tiny ducklings and it's just fine. Because you can't comment. Shhhh. Your silence is golden to me.
Now, let me take my finger off your booger-lips so that I may thrust it to the wind and detect the changing breeze. Ah yes. It's time. To write that is.
Now what does this blog have to offer you that other blogs don't? Are you asking me that? No? Okay, good. Because I don't think I have an answer to that yet. I do know this. I have a lot of thoughts and creativity just dying to wheel and deal their way out of my brains and guts. You will be my canvas. This blog will be my paints and this brain... yes this one right here sitting above my nose, will be the inspiration.
The Legend Begins
I was born on a balmy October morning, the 2nd to be precise, in the small coastal town of Porbandar - which was then part of the Bombay Presidency, British India. No wait, that's not me. What was I thinking? That was Gandhi. I sometimes get us confused because I, too, am frigging awesome. I was born waaaaaay on the other side of the world in a tiny town in Canada. But, as you'll find with most Canadian history, there was pretty much nothing eventful going on and anything worth knowing is on a dollar bill. So, if you'd like to know a little bit about me, I would like to direct you to Exhibit Eh:
Well that didn't really explain anything at all. Not about Canada and not about me. FoxCreek. I say that, FoxCreek I mean, when I don't want to drop the eff-bomb. Fuck, where was I going with this?
Oh right.
Look, let's just get to know each other the same way Richard Gere and Julia Roberts did in "Pretty Woman" -- through time and shared interests.
I'll be seeing you soon, Cuddlemuffins.
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