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Boy do I miss you. I miss you like Mexican food. I once missed a connecting flight from O’Hare and that sickening feeling I had is kind like the feeling I have for you. But O’Hare has a Starbucks, so that’s cool.

Also, Ms. Baku and I are getting married today. It’s not the big party we invited you to in April (except for you, Todd) but today is the day we make it legal. There won’t be any guests. Nor will there be a white dress or flowers or adult entertainment. Just the two of us. And two witnesses.

Late last week, we were in a warm embrace, standing here in the living room. She’s shorter than I so her head was firmly embedded into my stomach. As would with anyone, my internal pressure increased, and because I’m a guy, you know I’m gonna share this. So, I squeezed her.

And then I let one rip.

Then I gave her the ‘evil eye.’

If a blanket was within reach, things would’ve escalated quickly. But I care. And she cares about me. Which is why she’s next door getting her hair done and I’m here in my undies playing on the internet. This kinda got off track, didn’t it?