An entire page has been dedicated to the Goonfather here because he’s a regular feature on my blog and because people keep thinking that he’s my father.

Duh.

Please note that the Goonfather is:

• My significant other
• My chauffeur, handyman, IT support, entertainment, slave, ATM machine (I wish)
• A goon

Here’s an old anecdote I wrote in April 2005 which will shed light on the choice of name:

In other news, the boyfriend recently acquired Patrizio Buanne’s The Italian. It’s made up of mostly classic Italian hits (including the theme song from The Godfather) and a few English oldies.

So, he was playing it in the car today when he suddenly said chirpily, “I feel like I’m the mafia, driving a black BM and listening to Italian songs!”

“Uh-huh,” I said, giving my usual enthusiastic response to his nonsense.

“Damn, this is cool,” he said, as he rocked to the beat.

“Uh-huh,” I told him.

“I am the GOONFATHER!” he said.

“That’s right, you’re a goon,” I assured him.

“Yah, my BM is not big enough so I can’t be the Godfather.”

With a boyfriend like this, who needs children?

And here are some popular blog posts highlighting his goon factor (in order of title length because it’s fun to do that):

Upskirt
Who let the goon out?
Goonfather’s Goonmobile
Why the Goonfather is a goon
Bastard husband, lousy mother
A stranger came up to me and…
How to have fun while crapping
Conversations with the Goonfather