[Sound of capitalism crumbling at its foundations.]
If only I had been to a museum before taking out twelve subprime mortgages.
Oh well. I’m going to go fantasize about Hendrick Hertzberg picking me up in a horsedrawn carriage and explaining to me why he deserves all his success, in a speech full of debonair emdashes, rhetorical crescendos, and restrained finales.
It's true that Nick and I don't always see eye-to-eye when it comes to politics, but our friendship is too strong to be broken by his weird boy-sympathies for Sarah Palin. We share so many memories (three).
This one's from our thirtieth birthday party:
Here's us getting married:
This one's just Nick and his violin.
Just Nick 'n his violin.
(thanks, internet.)
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