Well that brings back high school.

I didn’t even get a label.

autocorrectic asphyxiation

Her husband, who apparently just passed away, incidentally became my writing mentor in the early 2000s, when I, also in my 20s, took a bartending job at the place where he drank three vodkas and wrote three pages a day.

this is one of those narrowly applicable perfect jokes that I wish I could remember and extrapolate from, but will never recall because the recall prompt is unlikely to every arise.