I didn't watch the Golden Globes last night, but I was reading the live tweet box on Slog, so I found out from Danielle that my once future girlfriend* Julia Louis-Dreyfus spent the evening smoking an e-cigarette, eating hot dogs, and dissing Reese Witherspoon, and I fell in love all over again. Today is her birthday. This post is just a token of my admiration for her genius.

It's also Lorrie Moore's birthday. Freaking love Lorrie Moore. It's also Edmund White's birthday. Freaking love Edmund White. (I recently read, very late to the party, The Farewell Symphony: three sex scenes on every page and then everyone dies at the end. Recommended.) Today is also the day James Joyce died, in 1941. And it's the day that Air Florida's Flight 90 crashed into the 14th Street Bridge over the Potomac River in D.C. in 1982, killing 74 people on the plane and four people on the bridge. But let's not think about that.

* As a closeted teenager raised by parents who believed homosexuality was a sickness, I used to watch TV to try to incite a sexual interest in women. Friends was dangerous to watch, because when I watched Friends I found myself attracted only to the men, but when I watched Seinfeld, to my great relief, I found none of the men attractive. The only person I was attracted to on Seinfeld was Julia Louis-Dreyfus. For a while, that gave me hope.