Today, I sold a Lizzie Borden card and a 10-card set, which puts me approximately $30 closer toward my final destination of Romania. Henry’s not invited, since he wouldn’t take me to the hospital. He can have fun staying home in gay Pennsylvania while I’m off riding donkeys and wildin’ out on Romanian date rape drugs. I can’t wait to taste Romanian pie and pee in their toilets. With a little conniving and perseverence, this dream might be realized by next summer. It’s only my dying wish, you know.

It’s not too late to purchase holiday cards. Send me to Romania. If you’re lucky, I’ll get stuck over there and wind up living a meager existence hauling oats in a field with no Internet. And then I’ll lose a wager with a gypsy over who has a bigger ballsack – the town cobbler or the albino who lives under the bridge and inspires dark fairy tales – and next thing I know, I’ll have a gaping hole in my side and my kidney will be chilling out on ice. Don’t you want that for me? Tell people about my cards; make your dreams (and mine) come true.