Vartolomeo; The Best Name To Have Ever Existed

This is my first post,
all my life I have always loved and wantedthe name Vartolomeo, it has a funny feeling of it being to long but yet, too fucking cool.
When I was 12 I always asked my mom why she didnt name me Vartolomeo, but the only answer (or the most reasonable answer I remember I got) was a simple: 'Cause I didn't feel like it.

Seems that I've grown too lazy, yet too smart to change my name.

Well, Today Im moving to Brooklyn, while I was signing the paper to a mover (which had a mexican accent, that aroused a sort of racist suspicion in me) I noticed that his name tag said Vartolo, a sudden rush of panic (or something that made my hands sweat and some goosebumpy feeling like when you have "The Run") went through me.

Politely yet nerviously I asked him:
Hey uhh..is your name really Vartolo?
he looked at me and gave me a smile (the kind criminals have). And he said:
Yeah yeah..my name is vartolo..why?
That panic or whatever it was suddenly went down but I felt more nervious than before, (like when you talk to a chick but then suddenly you feel nervious when you actually see her face)
I said:
Yeah, I wanted to change my name to Vartolomeo when I was little.
(me, trying to not admit that I still wanted to change it. Because for some reason I have a big reputation to hold up:
A New Blog).

Anyway, after explaining about my name, the mover started getting bored..I noticed that, but for some reason I didnt want to stop talking, he started looking around trying to act like he was actually doing something.(like someone trying to find a familiar face in a cocktail party).
After boring the shit out of a mover I realize, whoa..I do suck at telling stories...

Anyway my girlfriend Sara starts talking to a another mexican mover guy...now ofcourse I always think of mexicans as Don Juans, what gang bangers call a "Player" or "Dat MuvaFucka Gat Gaime Homie!"
Anyway, I feel a bit jealous and start to "help" carrying boxes and such, and purposely pass through the mover and my Sara in a way the mexican dude thinks:
Dude..Wait..Wtf? Isn't that my job?

Well luckily my plan worked, and I managed to keep my girlfriend and move everything from my old house to Brooklyn, just when I settled into brooklyn some noisy neighbours come in their house, with a funny hillbilly accent, I automatically get annoyed at them and try to concentrate on my first and new entry, the funny thing is..I look out the window and see 3 ten year olds looking through my window, I politely shut the window and feel sudden embarassment by them seeing me in my sesame street boxers (Im not kidding) and my dog slippers, I walk in the kitchen and Sara looks at me and sees me all red:
Shes like:
Are you ok?
I think:
Yeah im OK its just that 3 kids now are making fun of me and my self-esteem lowered 20 points (I keep score).

Allthough, my highly superior brain processes the question and automatically comes up with an answer that does not lower my ego and doesnt make anyone laugh:

Yeahhh, I'm OK.