For Ivan

So you've come to that bright welcoming red ribbon of an opening blog. Here. Have some gold scissors. Hack away. And with a statement like that, it's no wonder my mother doesn't let me play with my utensils.

A bit about myself to begin. My name is Hanz. I am female. Woah. What. Wait. No. I'm just going to keep talking and you are going to have to accept that as truth. I am a ninja at heart, if not in reference to coordination skills. Every so often I have private dance parties to relieve stress and can then return to a normal life style. I am 98 years old. Okay. You can raise an eyebrow at that one.

The reason for this blog is very simple. I have a dear friend named Ivan. And Ivan and I have many bold adventures, quests for price checks at the local grocery store, and deep introspective discussions about video game trailers. But, even more than video games, I love writing. And so it begins. This blog you see before you is my promise to Ivan that I will write an epic tale of our fabulous adventures. And every so often place updates here on this blog. Parts of the novel itself. Updates of the life of Hanz and the slow workings of a fiction based on nonfiction of the fiction that is our lives (did that make sense... like... at all?). And maybe I can even get Ivan to update on here every so often *do you seeeeee this faaace?*

So, interspersed with rants about my not so secret dislike for hugs and my super secret love of - well, then it wouldn't be a super secret. Behold the sarcasm! Behold the mania!

Ever so insincerely,

--Hanz--