i wanted to buy you a copy of the 'burbs screenplay and get it signed by tom hanks. i had it all in my head, i was going to buy it, i was going to attempt to call in the favor of all favors, i was going to point excitedly to thanx's signature on the front page, you were going to be so impressed and have a bunch of sex with me. turns out it is damn near impossible to find a copy of the 'burbs screenplay. like, we're talking the kind of situation where even the dark web (https://btheburbs.runboard.com/, a website i was sure was going to give me digital herpes) had no answers. after days of searching i finally found this on ebay: a copy of the 'burbs screenplay signed by bruce dern — only bruce dern — and addressed to someone named chris. to be honest with you? i think this is better than my original plan. how anyone could ever give it up is beyond me but this signed copy of the 'burbs screenplay that says "chris, again, thanks - bruce dern" is yours forever. in the event you choose to mount this modern marvel on a wall in either of our homes, i will happily supply the frame.

to keep you sexy and stylin' on the nights we spend on the couch watching ice t convincingly play a character who has presumably tried coffee before, the kind of pathos even daniel day-lewis couldn't pull off. well, you're watching and i'm sleeping but this shirt is really soft and therefore perfect for taking shoulder naps on. "you can't say dickwolf on tv."

did you know that when places say they do monogramming on glasses cases that doesn't mean they'll screenprint a picture of your dogs on a glasses case? i know, total bullshit, i argued with a lot of people over email about it until a benevolent soul on etsy realized how much money i was willing to shell out to have it done. our new ally's name is katherine, she lives in michigan, and when i sent her the picture i wanted on the case she said, "omg your dogs are so cute!" yeah, no shit, katherine. thus: a case for your new glasses with a photo of tre and mia on it to remind you why the power of sight is worth it, and not just because you look smokin' hot with those frames on your face.

ask (read: beg) nonstop for months and ye shall receive. it is obviously from ws.com, please don't ask me stupid questions, but oddly enough there weren't any reviews for their charcuterie plate so i was forced to make some decisions on my own which, as we all know, is always the best course of action. it will arrive this afternoon and should be enjoyed with the twelve pack of grapefruit seltzer i bought you. take a day off from the penguin, baby. is this a sexy gift?

full disclosure: i have been trying to get you a tunafish disaster print since last fucking christmas. they wouldn't let me take it out of the san fran moma (i asked) and i wasn't about to pay some nerd on ebay $20 for a lithograph. since all of our friends declined to participate in an ocean's eight, eleven, twelve, or thirteen style heist with me (we need new friends), i had to resort to scouring the internet until i found some very nice people who "give access to the wealth of contemporary art from around the world." that's what they said on their website and in the email they sent me. they claim they don't get a lot of requests for tunafish disaster (imagine that) and seemed very happy/confused when i asked about the price. anyway, this is signed, numbered, and framed, and is to be hung and displayed wherever, and on whichever coast, you would like it. most importantly, mike is really happy to have this out of his apartment, which is where i've been hiding it for weeks. he called it "unsettling." i'm sure this is exactly what andy warhol hoped would happen to his art.

march 29, 2019. me, you, and some ungrateful, aging rockstars. i'm sorry i didn't take you last year when jon bon jovi finally got his due and the members of dire straits had a collective, months-long meltdown, but i'm making up for it this time around. there are few things i enjoy more than listening to you riff about the rock n roll hall of fame and i can only hope you do it while the "acceptance" speeches are going on. i promise you no one, least of all the people on stage squinting at their notes from behind their duane reade cheaters, will care. mostly i'm doing it for drunk twenty-something john who deserves to see radiohead inducted into the rock hall fully against their will. i'm also kind of doing it for myself because i really want to see if jonny greenwood brings up some long lost grievance from 1995 in front of a bunch of people and cameras.

look, we knew it was coming. i guess you were right about this being more of a gift to myself than to you but, based on all the research i did before buying these (because i really wasn't cool with giving goop my hard-earned money if i didn't have to), my partner, who is you, should get just as much joy out of giving me "pleasure" as i do receiving it. apparently! isn't that cool! hey, did you know that all anal beads are fucking insane looking? did you know that reading reviews of sex toys is probably worse than reading an actual fifty shades book? did you know someone named a set of anal beads after the fifty shades series and i almost bought them as a bit but then i remembered they'd be going inside me so i rethought it? this is a joke gift and also it's not at all. l'chaim!

i couldn't think of anything romantic to write it on so in a fit of tre-like confusion and frustration i ripped out a blank page of your work diary because it was the closest thing to me. in retrospect that's not romantic either. sorry?

yes, in the eyes of the law i am officially a mulaney and all i ask is that you please, please don't tell your dad. i won't be changing my instagram handle — imagine the mass confusion! — or asking to have my imdb page updated because i still need that 100% jew cred but it's on my license, it's on the receipt i signed the other day when i was getting coffee, and it's on the paperwork you'll find on the desk in your office that officially puts your name on the deed to this house. all you have to do is sign.

happy anniversary and merry christmas, john. what a goddamn stupid, perfect life you've given me and our horrible children. all i've ever wanted was a reason to celebrate this ridiculous holiday and now that i've married into a catholic family i finally have one. mazel to us both. (am i doing it right?)