If I could fly, I would soar all the way up to the window of a plane carrying a suitcase in my hand, then I’d motion toward the plane’s door and make an annoyed face at the terrified passengers. I have a feeling I would do this a lot.

Do you like flora and fauna? How about plants and animals? Because we have more of that beautiful crap than we know what to do with. Charmingly domesticated troops of monkeys swing freely throughout our orchid-laden property. You’re probably thinking that a lot of all-inclusive resorts have monkeys. True, but only one resort packs a monkey for each of their guests to take home. You’ll be showing off more than a tan to your friends, you’ll be showing off a gibbon.

LEARN FROM THE MASTERS: Mark Twain once said, “Show, don’t tell.” This is an incredibly important lesson for writers to remember; never get such a giant head that you feel entitled to throw around obscure phrases like “Show, don’t tell.” Thanks for nothing, Mr. Cryptic.

A writer’s brain is full of little gifts, like a piñata at a birthday party. It’s also full of demons, like a piñata at a birthday party in a mental hospital. The truth is, it’s demons that keep a tortured writer’s spirit alive, not Tootsie Rolls. Sure they’ll give you a tiny burst of energy, but they won’t do squat for your writing. So treat your demons with the respect they deserve, and with enough prescriptions to keep you wearing pants.

I hate Risk. I have for many years now. I hate that you still like Risk. I hate that you guilt me into playing with you because no one else will. I hate that you do the accents of the countries you’re attacking from. And I hate that you wear a beret every time we play. God, do I hate the beret.

Are you having fun playing with those plastic 3-D models of ears, noses and throats? That’s kind of like what I do, except instead of cute little plastic models, it’s living human tissue, and instead of playing, I’m fucking working, and instead of fun, it’s fucking not fun, it’s serious.

If you come a little closer you will see that I am depicted as having three penises. Of course I’m not insinuating that I actually have three penises or even two. I have one. This is called symbolism. Is it symbolic in the sense that making love to me feels like I have three penises? Again, I can’t answer that, but probably, yeah.