I'm writing to ask you where you are. First, you missed my 25 year anniversary of posting online on October 14th. TWENTY FIVE years, Gunnar. And who was my first ever post a reply to? Some guy named Gunnar. Some nowhere-to-be-seen guy named Gunnar.
Secondly, you didn't show up on your birthday. So...where are you? You're supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be able to look at the board before I go to bed and see you here and read your most recent post. It's a rule. It's a ritual. It's a requirement.
I actually demand it at this point.
You can't rightly expect me to be here and then go to sleep without my ritual, can you? Do you think that's fair? No, it is not. It's supposed to be...read Gunnar, pray, then go to sleep. That's how it goes and pretty much how it has gone (except for a few gaps) for what? TWENTY FIVE YEARS.
Except on Wednesdays. You're never here on Wednesdays. (Feel stalked?)

I don't know where you are or if I can sleep. I may never sleep again.
Gunnar come back!!
Jersey...Queen of the Late Night Forum.
