Hey Wigleaf,

I thought we could play transcontinental MASH in honor of childlike things. I took the liberty of selecting your options / saying stop for you. I'm also pretty sure I miscounted (twice?), but there's no question, this is your fate:

I regret to inform you, you're marrying Jeff Bezos. To celebrate (?), you honeymoon in Chili's. (A lot of dough went into those rockets, apparently.)

You are a professional spaghetti thrower, and honestly, how novel! There are much worse ways to make a buck. Somehow, Bezos plays for the NBA. (Which is the worst team? He likely plays for them.)

You live in a shack (darn!) in Sydney (yay!) and so do I (not the shack part). Anyway, come down to the pub and I'll buy you a schooner.

You have two kids, but more importantly, a well-trained raccoon, and I envy you for this.

In your spare time, you do claymation!

You have a brief affair with Ana De Armas. (Nice!) You should also feel proud knowing you are a record breaker (for longest toenails in the world).

Sadly, you don't eat enough pizza in this lifetime and get fatally beaten by clowns, but hey, that's life, right?

L.