Tonight I admitted to someone's suspicions about me, talked freely about my insecurities, made a passing remark about my familiarity with the concept of self-loathing, and somehow managed to leave my credit card at a bar.
Happy birthday, Pauly. In 45 minutes you will be one year older than you are now, and though you're a couple of years younger, you'll always be wiser than me.
To bed, now, for me. I have to be in Descanso Gardens for an 8 a.m. meeting tomorrow, and I need to be sharp.
(That's a joke.)
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