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I'm kind of a private person, so I've been avoiding this thread, but....very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet.
My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon. Luge lessons. When I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds - pretty standard, really. At the age of twelve, I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum. It's breathtaking. I suggest you try it.
At the age of 58, I bought my first Boxster. And, well, here I am.
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