 Good morning, Hank. It's Friday. Pizza Miss rolls on. Today's video comes to you in four very special parts. Part one, the weirdest thing that ever happened to me. So obviously a lot of weird things have happened to me over the years, but I think the weirdest one is cheese-a-john. This thing is amazing. It's a terracotta planter, so you can either like spread chia seeds around here and make my hair into chia, or you can use it as a regular planter. Just put some potting soil in there and mint, basil, anything. I think I'm gonna plant a mint plant in there, so when people come over, I can offer them a mint julep and be like, I have fresh mint. It comes out of my head. It's just the most wonderful thing. Sorry, both of our glasses fell off, and it's available only during Pizza Miss, and only at Pizzamas.com, along with this incredibly soft blanket. All right, part two, hard left turn. So one thing about Pizza Miss, Hank, is that you're allowed to make dramatic tonal shifts. Like, here's a video of me at the UN. Here's what the UN is. Here's my face as a planter. So I'm gonna take a hard left turn right now, Hank, and tell you the truth of what I've been feeling for the last few days, which is extremely grateful that you're doing so well. Like, it is incredible to see you dancing on many levels, but one of them is just that it's wonderful. I'm just so relieved and happy that, at least for the foreseeable future, you are through chemo and doing so well. Like, it's just wondrous and a little discombobulating, because five months ago, we were on the phone being like, should we cancel Pizza Miss? Like, we'd already ordered some of the stuff, and so we couldn't cancel it, but at the same time, we were like, maybe we have to cancel it? And now you're dancing, and you have a surprisingly thick mustache, and I just, I wanna tell you how I feel about that, which is really grateful. I don't wanna be overly sentimental, but it's nice. It's really nice. Part three, but speaking of the mustache, Hank, I think everybody in our family has some concerns about the mustache. Not its presence during Pizza Miss, but the way you've hinted that it might become a more permanent presence in our lives. And I feel like I need to express in the strongest possible terms, Hank, that your Pizza Miss mustache should only be a Pizza Miss mustache. And to support this position, I'd like to introduce two exhibits into evidence. Exhibit A, you look like the Minneapolis-based rapper, Prof, except Soft. You know, Prof, Hank, the rapper who memorably wrote so drunk that I can hardly see is that Jennifer Aniston balancing on a manatee. Now, you're both obviously excellent lyricists, but Prof can pull off the mustache because he's hard, and you're respectfully soft. Exhibit B, and it gives me no pleasure to do this, but I would also like to enter into evidence the great goatee debacle of 2011. Given how poorly this aged, how can we be confident that a post-Pizza Miss mustache wouldn't age equally poorly? It has to end with Pizza Miss, Hank. Okay, part four, hard left turn again. Pizza Miss always reminds me of the distance between my current self and my 2007 self. Like, how did my 2007 self make videos every other weekday for a year? What must have my priorities been? Like, how much free time must I have had? My life was just very different then. When I was in my teens and twenties, I kind of thought that human life was like a bullet train that rocketed you through all these spectacular environs before arriving at the end of the train line, which was called adulthood. And then you got off the train and just stood there in the station until death came for you. It turns out, of course, this is not true. Like, adulthood is really interesting and full of change. I changed a lot in my teens and twenties, but I also have changed a ton in adulthood, including since starting this project. 2007, me had no idea what it was like to have kids or to live in the same town for 17 years or to be part of an online community that convinced a multinational, multibillion-dollar corporation not to make money off its tuberculosis tests in poor countries. But I also couldn't know all the terrible and hard things we were going to go through. I couldn't know that you were going to get cancer or the other difficult things we've been through. So, yeah, in kind of a lovely way, I feel very distant from my 2007 self and it makes me wonder what does my 2039 self know that current me doesn't? Amazing things, I'm sure, and also terrible ones. As Octavia Butler put it, the only lasting truth is change. Thank, I'll see you on Monday.