Dear Universe,

I love you. I think you’re swell. You consist of great things, great opportunities, and, damn it all, you’re just great. It’s only Tuesday evening, and, so far, you’ve provided me with such an excellent week. I’ve workshopped a screenplay, submitted a chapter for a new writing endeavor I’m working on with some friends, made Mardi Gras plans, bought fun t-shirts, had a facial, worked out, watched the Bachelor and immediately regretted it, made new friends, caught up with old, and now I’m dogsitting on a whim while eating chocolate covered almonds and drinking pinot noir.

So, yeah, Universe, I stand by what I said about you being great, because you’re just that. Great.

If I could ask for one thing, though, and only one thing, it would be that you send someone my way who’s willing to pay me to make them laugh. I’m not sure how this would work or what I could do. I could be their personal assistant/comic relief. I could write jokes for their standup sets. I could be cast in a comedic role. Who knows. The possibilities are endless. And because I trust you, U, I leave this in your mighty hands. Or atmosphere. Or whatever it is you’re cradling us with.

In your holy name You rock, never change,


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