I’m sorry I missed your birthday, Los Angeles, but I’ve been too busy melting as I travel to and through various parts of you.
I’m here for you, though. My nearest and dearest, on the other hand, decided they would travel to other cities instead of stay here with you. Don’t feel so bad though; comfort yourself with the fact that these idiots went to Las Vegas and Arizona, places which are much, much hotter.
If it’s any consolation, we celebrated your birth by watching Inland Empire, outside in the yard, on a projector. We had some beers and cursed at the mosquitoes eating our legs. I’m just sorry for not getting you any cake.