As a mom who almost lost a child to what we *think* were black mold spores in the lungs, Me and Mr. Mildew (because no self-respecting mildew man in Texas would shy away from brother mold) thank you for being the bigger man and walking away from a name you were clearly born to bear.

Gutbloom is way better anyway.

Funny thing about that: When I first saw your name here I knew I’d heard the word before but I couldn’t think of where. All I knew was that every time I read it, I got queasy. So I couldn’t read any of your stuff, which disturbed me because I knew you were pee-in-the-pants hilarious and I wanted to be able to partake of your warped intellect without losing my lunch.

So I did a Google search for gutbloom, hoping to discover why I was having such a strange response.

I found some very interesting signs of you out there in Googleland. But I never did find out why I kept wanting to hurl, and eventually the *you* part of Gutbloom overshadowed the *other* part of it and the queasiness went away.

Well, until I read this, anyway, and brought the memory screaming to the surface.

To whom should I address the therapy bills? ;)

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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