does mr. gladwell know about this?

you know you've made it when this happens. i think. maybe you don't know you've made it until two lovely gay men write to tell you that you're the drop-down box that brought them together. at any rate, it's a level of fame that i'll be happy never to achieve. malcolm, being a much more collected individual than myself, seems to be holding up just fine.

what is this rubbish about diane cardwell, by the way? (see end of fifth paragraph) sure, they rhyme, but whatever, i'm, like, so way cuter than her. i don't care, i could totally take her. strong like bull and stealthy like ninja, that's me. i got mad skills. sleep with one eye open, reporter lady.

no, no, i'm joking. ha ha.


ha.