I know, I know. You love the Converse. You live in an old converted whorehouse. You’re a smart kid and a bit of a tomboy. I like you. You seem smart. I think you’re adorable. If I lived next door to you, we’d be hanging out, shooting the shit all the time. And if that were the case, today I would go shuffling over some time after noon with Tito’s Tacos (for the hangover) and the papers, and we’d eat six or seven bags of chips and then I’d say, “Ellen, WTF?” And you’d roll your eyes, and then I’d say, “WHY DIDN’T YOU ASK ME?” and you’d say, “because you would have told me not to wear it.” And I’d said, “And?” And you would say, “and you would have been right.”