I got my business cards today. They are heavy, and embossed. No, wait — what’s the awful Photoshop filter? Is that Emboss? Bevel? I think I mean Emboss. Also, the corners are super-sharp. I think, if in a bind, I could maybe stab it into the tender flesh between my assailant’s fingers and cause him/her discomfort. Yesterday I cut my thumb on the ridged edge of a tape dispenser. There was a sharp intake of breath on my part. You can’t even really call me a man at this point.

Here is some copy I wrote today: “Now might be a good time to check in and either apologize or point and laugh. Or maybe just nod with grim satisfaction — it’s up to you.” I’m pretty sure nothing I’ve written at this job thus far has seen, or will ever see, the light of day.

I should maybe mention that the House of Wigs is an actual business in San Mateo, Calif., or at least it was like 15 years ago or whenever I last saw it. Also, my good friend B, back in high school, on his debut solo cassette, performed a song called “The House of Wigs,” which I assume was inspired by the store. I only remember the beginning: “Let me / take you / to the / House of / Wigs.” It’s good.

Here is a real-life email I just received:

Hey there, I was wondering if you could give me some help? First of all, I need to know how to make fading words, like for my gaming clan I want it to start black, then fade into the words “Shadow Dragons Clan” then fade to black again, and when it fades back in, i want it to say “OWNS YOU!” and maybe fade out and in a few more times with different things said.

The roadkill in this state is astounding. Dead things everywhere and I guess no one is really too interested in cleaning them up. Every day I have to pass the same deer on the side of the road. And then there’s the raccoon whose little leg sticks out stiffly into the air. Like I’m not already emotionally distraught enough coming home from work, I have to see this zoological horrorshow, too.

And all I can think about is how I’ll be killing some cute animal with my car in the next few weeks. Like, if you run the numbers you’ll see I have a hundred-percent chance of running something down within the month, guaranteed. My best bet is that I’ll plow through a mighty white wolf and his pack will circle around me, sniffing, then bowing their heads with respect, because whomever slays the head wolf becomes the new leader, and I’ll learn their ways and customs, my senses growing ever keener, the thrill of the hunt flowing through my veins, and I’ll instruct my children to search the side of the freeway for dead animals and eat them or move them or somehow get them the fuck out of my line of sight.