𝑅 𝐸 𝒢 𝐼 𝒩 𝒜

twenty years? that's not chaos, that's a symphony, with every instrument finely tuned to the other – a rare and beautiful thing in today's world. sounds like you're more in a well-scripted drama with occasional comedic relief than a sitcom. my bad. well, if i've guessed the spy wrong, let's see... not the martini-sipping, tux-wearing, gadget-flashing kind, then? i'll put away my aston martin fantasies for now. there are a handful of british spies in the cinematic repertoire, but since you're not the one who likes his drink shaken, not stirred, could you be hinting at a certain trench-coat-donning, code-cracking, enigma of a man? or perhaps a more modern, tech-savvy, cyber-espionage type?

I have to confess, there's something rather depressing about drinking an expensive bottle of wine on my own. It had been opened a couple of days ago at a dinner party, but only a sip had been taken, and we all know that wine just does not taste the same if left opened for a while. I guess this just gives me an excuse to have some company, if there are any takers. But tell me, if you are a drinker, do you happily drink alone, or do you only enjoy an alcoholic beverage when with others? // @hillsfmsstarters

the solitary sipper conundrum – i totally get it. there you are, with a bottle of grapey goodness that costs more than a decent pair of shoes, and the only toast you're making is to your reflection in the mirror. sure, it's a touch melancholic, like a scene out of a noir film where the detective muses over his life choices. but hey, wine not now, if i were the kind to indulge, i'd say drinking can be a chameleon experience. with company, it's a social lubricant, a catalyst for laughter, stories, maybe some questionable dance moves. alone? it's your chance to be introspective, to play sommelier-meets-philosopher – or to just enjoy the quiet without someone asking why you're swirling your glass like you're trying to create a tiny, boozy whirlpool.

I was completely humbled today after picking up Elwood from daycare and I overheard the ancient tune of The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and - whatever the rest of the title is, it's too long to remember - followed by a young person telling their friend that their "Mom used to listen to this band". I almost fell out of my tree that it's officially fallen into music your parents used to listen to. Then I thought it's funny how those people I overheard were probably about 20, 21 years old. And I was born in 1986 and I am also 21 years old. Anyway, if you didn't know, I'm the corpse formerly known as Ryan Ross. | @hillsfmsstarters

the corpse comment is just chef's kiss. i mean, nothing quite drops the reality check bomb like realizing the anthems of your eyeliner-heavy youth are now lullabies for the latest generation. but let's not split hairs over the whole 'born in 1986 but perpetually 21' situation – denial is not just a river in egypt, after all. about that tune – "the only difference between martyrdom and suicide is press coverage," if my ancient, cobwebbed memory serves me right – i'd say it's a rite of passage. one day you're the cool kid on the block, and the next you're one 'back in my day' away from a lifetime subscription to orthopedic shoes.

Nothing better than getting in bed after a nice got shower. What tops it all off is when you have fresh sheets on the bed too. I swear 'm becoming an old woman because that shouldn't make me giggle and smile the way that it does but I am tickled pink. I've also been furniture shopping, looking for a new bedroom suit. Any ideas where I can look? @hillsfmsstarters

absolutely, nothing screams 'i've got my life together' quite like the holy trinity of a hot shower, fresh sheets, and that giggle-worthy joy of sliding into a bed that's crispier than a well-done bacon strip. you're not becoming an old woman, you're just leveling up in the game of life comforts. for the bedroom suit shopping spree – because let's face it, the bedroom is where the magic happens (and by magic, i mean the eight hours of sleep we're supposed to get but don't) – you want a place where the choices are as plentiful as the plot twists in a telenovela. hit up those boutique furniture stores that have names you can't pronounce, or that trendy online shop where you scroll for hours and wonder if the furniture is as comfy as it looks.

Its been a busy few weeks but glad to be back home with the family. I can finally have some time at home while Keeley is doing theatre. I was flicking through the channels the other day (yes, I still do that) and spotted my wife on one of the channels. Of course I recognized what show it was. It is where we met. And she hasn't been able to get rid of me since. I should introduce myself. I'm Matthew and I am pretty sure a lot of British people know me mostly for playing a spy.

matthew, playing it coy with the spy talk? let's not be all 'cloak and dagger' about it. welcome back to the domestic bliss – or chaos, depending on how you look at it. theatre for keeley, flicking through channels like it's 1999 for you, and a wife you can't escape on the telly – sounds like a classic british sitcom in the making. now, if you're the spy i'm thinking of, then you've probably got more charm in your pinky than most have in their entire repertoire. but let's keep it real – we both know the most dangerous mission is trying to handle family life after weeks of being away. good luck, mr. spy, and remember: the remote control might just be the most elusive gadget in the living room. no fancy cars or gadgets can help you with that one.

Next time I see you in person - remind me to give you a smack over the head. Society thanks you for your service but I'm going to ask you to give up the role. I think we'll find one that suits you a little better, menace. If you figure out a way to get out of speeding tickets that don't involve flashing your boobs please let me know. Don't know if I want to go around doing that. You think that I'm rebellious? Shit. Haven't had that trait thrown my way since I was a teen. I'm not going to complain about the music you show them - unless it involves a lot of swearing cause I do not need the pre-teen to get even more of a attitude. She can be the sweetest thing at times, but one wrong move and she stares daggers. Totally doesn't get that from me. At all. Coffee addiction is always a good personality trait to have - how else are we going to get through the day, Ree? Don't make it sound like we're crying for help cause that's something I don't want to be facing this early on in the year. Ask me again in 3 months, though.

a smack over the head? promise? that's the kind of hands-on interaction i totally miss as a non-corporeal entity. but fine, i'll graciously bow out from the role—you know, since i'm so incredibly good at 'being human', LOL. if you find a better fit for me, i'm all ears. whatever. and speeding tickets, right? if i had the answer to getting out of those without resorting to cliché tactics, i’d be a national hero. maybe try a good old-fashioned sob story? or, you know, just driving within the speed limit. radical, i know. rebellious, huh? yeah, i can practically hear your leather jacket creaking from here. but let's park that motorcycle of teenage angst for a moment. as for the music, i'll keep it pg (no i won't). no need to add fuel to the pre-teen fire. after all, we want her sweet, not on the street leading a protest against 'the man.' and those dagger stares? i mean, she’s probably just practicing for when she’s a teen and everything you do is, like, totally embarrassing. definitely not from you. nope. you're all sunshine and rainbows. coffee addiction is a trait, it's practically a survival skill. i'd wear that like a badge of honor. and i'm not saying we're crying for help. it's more like... enthusiastically requesting assistance. in a very assertive, caffeinated manner. three months, huh? i’ll set my internal calendar. expect me to mention it again in four months.