In the last four days, I’ve managed to slice the living hell out of my hand and drop my phone in a toilet. I also got to thank Clive Davis and my mom from a stage in front of the Grammy committee. Misha and I have split bills with Bushwalla, Bob Schneider, Cary Brothers, Trevor Hall, and Leon Mobley, during which we came up on no fewer than eight free burritos and countless bottles of drink. My roommates and I accidentally climbed one of the Hollywood Hills for the sole purpose of having a beer.

It’s good to be back in LA.

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