Of course, I’d wake from a dream where I died on my birthday. On my birthday. This is so on-brand I would expect nothing less from my subconscious. Keep up the good work, kiddo. I would tell you how it feels to be forty-five, but my laptop decided to book a one-way ticket to Hades and I’m left with my phone and three boxes of Puffs Plus Deluxe. Sending my laptop postcards from L.A. with the words: I really wish you were here, motherfucker.

My saving grace in the great black comedy that is my waking life is YOU. Yes, I’m allergic to people. Yes, I’m a walking igloo, but from a distance I heart all of you. You motherfuckers are the gift that keeps on…