Dear Schlo,
Yep, you guessed it! This is totally an open letter to you, my dearest friend. And confidante (is there a feminine word for confidante? Confidantee? Sounds sort of like amputee...) And occasional wing-girl. My apologies for not producing blog entries of substance for your after-hours viewing pleasure. I suck. It's the holiday season and I've been busy! Just this week alone, I managed to down five stiff cocktails on a Monday night, buy my first tube of lipstick (Laura Mercier, good shit), bike eighteen miles (uphill and down!) into the wintry depths of Brooklyn, smoke my first cigar, play fetch with a dog in the middle of the street, devour the most delicious Stumptown chocolate chip cookie, and hit the gym for the first time in weeks (a sad victory). Needless to say, it's been hard fitting time into my schedule to churn out thought-provoking entries in the hopes of engaging my many readers (read: zero...wait, no, there's you! one!) in intellectual discourse (HA!). So yeah, I'm sorry. Can you accept this blog entry, dedicated to the awesomeness that is you, as my apology/love letter? I promise you that all this holiday frolicking is actually field research for my next big piece (title yet to be revealed). I'm thinking something along the lines of carpe diem: x-mas version. Something tantalizing like that. In the meantime, I hope this little ditty will suffice. Think of it as an amuse bouche for your main course. Yeah, I'm a tool.
I heart you,
Burgerface
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