I received a letter in the mail from my superfantastic sister today. In it was a headline from the Washington Post, for which she’d cut out the letters of my name and pasted them to the beginning, so it reads: “(Real Name): Cafeteria Manager, Jig-Dancing Yodeler.” This is the woman who wants me to write my memoirs and entitle them “The Fencing Bassoonist of Baton Rouge.”
I’m in stitches over here. All y’all probably just look puzzled.