Dear Future Stella,
I slept like a starfish last night. Or wait, I don’t know how starfish sleep but I slept in the shape of a starfish. It was glorious. I used your dad’s pillow instead of mine because his is better and it’s a luxury that would never happen if he were here. I also slept in one of his t-shirts, which I am not telling you this because I think you will find it particularly riveting but only to irritate him when he reads this because for some reason he doesn’t like me to sleep in his shirts. Or wear his socks. He has this weird fear that he’s going to run out if I dip into his supply. Instead of trying to write how asinine this is, I will just show you. Here is what his shirt drawers, yes plural, look like. Keep in mind, he most likely has 7 or so with him in his suitcase, I am wearing 1 and there are about 4 others in the laundry.
Another important thing to note is that he just got rid of an entire garbage bag of t-shirts to the Goodwill. So yeah, the man has a shit load of t-shirts.
The sock thing really pisses him off. I thought I solved this problem by getting him 40 pairs of socks for his 40th birthday but not only was that an offensive and inadequate gift for a 40th birthday, he STILL freaks out when he discovers I’m wearing his socks.
So guess what? I just changed into a different one of his t-shirts and later when I get dressed I am going to most likely wear 2 pairs of his socks.
BTW, it took every shred of self discipline inside me to not get him another pair of socks for his 41st birthday, the thought being that he would always have the same number of socks as his age. I thought this would be handy as he reaches the later part of his life and the possibility of him forgetting his age becomes more of a reality. He was so annoyed at the first 40 pairs though, that I had this intuition that the next pair would completely throw him over the edge. There really is a great lesson in this for you, Future Stella. First, always trust your intuition. It has never failed me. Second, always walk the line with those you love between teasing them and totally fucking pissing them off. Your dad and I have a relationship that basically just cruises along this line at all times. For instance, considering it has been more than 20 years since he has received socks as a gift, I think it is totally acceptable and hilarious if you get him 61 pairs of socks for his birthday this year. Let me know if you need assistance (funds wise) for this, as I believe this is a totally normal and justifiable opportunity to dip into our savings.
Speaking of things as old as your father, I watched the 40th anniversary show of SNL last night. I hope that show is still on for you to enjoy, although I really doubt it can happen without Lorne Michaels. I am a diehard SNL fan, even when it’s not funny. I have so much respect for the writing of that show and even more for the actors who try and take that on. Comedy to me is everything and that show is an hour and a half of all things I adore. I’m hoping you have a sense of humor and enjoy both dishing our and receiving jokes. Laughter is basically a socially acceptable public orgasm. Like an orgasm, laughter is a pleasurable release of energy. Also, when choosing your mate in life, they should be able to make you laugh just as easily as they should be able to make you orgasm. They are equal to me in the importance department, and sometimes they go hand in hand. Similarly, making someone laugh is just as powerful as making someone orgasm. How gross is it to picture your mom having an orgasm? I know, right? That’s why I said it. So fucking gross. Yuck. You must be like so disturbed right now and I am loving it 20 years in advance.
Future Stella, I love you. Current Stella, you better not be behaving like a little shit monster for your grandparents today.