OK then. You still alive?
Fill me in on the last two months, bud.
I want to know the old friends you've seen, and how they make you feel youthful, in an odd forty-something sort of way.
I want to hear about new karaoke friends and acquaintances (male or female) that have thrown themselves at you after your sensual rendition of "At a Medium Pace".
I want to hear about the (shudder) one that got away.
I want to hear about all the people you've fucked until they were raw, and while you were still in your flight back home.
How was the coffee on said flight?
I want to hear about how you miss the abundance of dunces* in this part of California.
I want to know about a country that (in parts) has banned the use of colored additives in margarine, making it look like Manteca de Quebec.
I want to hear from you that i was the only truly insane, thus forgivably (just bearably) sane person with whom you got to spend time.
Give it to me. I miss you. *We miss you.
I don't quite miss you yet, Dave. Don't make me get all Carly Simon on your ass.
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I'm so vain I think this blog is about me.
(In Mok's voice from Rock and Rule): Me.
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