A friend contacted me, dealing with some mental health issues. That’s scary, and I’ve been battling my brain as long as I can remember, but I think mostly she wanted someone to cheer her up. At least, I hope so, because otherwise I was a very bad friend.

Me: I feel like I should give you a tiara & sash, and welcome you to the wide, wonderful world of crazy, but I can’t come up with alternative lyrics to the Miss America theme song.

Her: Tell me there’s cake.

Me: Just Vaseline on your teeth and glue on your butt. 

Her: Well shit.