Today is my birthday. My mother addressed her card to “My Darling Son Michael Stillwell”; she signed the card “With much love, Elaine” under which she has helpfully written, “mum.”
My father sent me McSweeney’s #4 for said birthday, which was very nice of him. Speaking of McSweeney’s, what do y’all make of the latest goings on? Why is Dave Eggers so bitter? Is it all a joke no-one got?
The other day, in my house, I caught a mouse.
Is there a story behind the choice of *69 as the number that calls the number that just called you? 69 is one hell of a mnemonic for anything to do with—giggle—reciprocation, but I’m guessing that there must have been some pretty entertaining board meetings over this. (“Peters, are you aware that children use the telephone? Children, Peters.”)
There’s both more and less photos of me at ALL IS VANITY. Check out my grandmother! (She: “You want me to stand against that wall??”)
