Bittersweet me.

Dear Michael Stipe,
Happy birthday.
Love,
Tara

P.S. I miss you showing up in my dreams. Remember that time we went house hunting and then jumped into the pool from the second-floor porch? That was awesome. Especially when we realized the pool was filled with raspberry vodka and Al Gore was mowing the lawn. Then there was the time you were bartending at that bar in Boston, the one Oprah took me to and then introduced me to NSync, who to my surprise turned out to be little people (using the politically correct term). That was awesome too. I wished Al Gore could have made it. I'm sorry about that time we were at dinner at Cinderella's and I punched you. You did just say something bad about Al Gore. I'll try not to do it again.