Tell me a story
Before I begin, let’s all just take a minute to acknowledge the huge thing that happened yesterday. The thing that made the world feel small – like everyone, no matter what culture, tribe, or tongue, agreed was a big event. An incident that shook us out of our day-to-day reality, and made us think about what is really important in life. A happening resulting in headlines, workplace chatter, and blog posts.
And she looks fab. Give her a cat-call, a high-five, and – my own personal favorite display of affection – a quick palm-circle-rub on the back.
In other news, there are a few things that I’ve decided that I “need”: a pair of black heels (how do I not own a pair of black heels?), a soft case for my guitar, and a new [insert the engine part that keeps my car quiet and not shaky] in my Honda.
Instead, you want to know what I’ve been doing with my hard-earned cash? Donating it to This American Life. Only twice, but still. Shouldn’t I be allocating my limited funds some place other than to what could be a FREE podcast? I feel like I am telling you my secret shame – confessing something I shouldn’t – like how I feign a healthy diet only to shovel cupcake icing into my mouth when no one is watching.
But I can’t help it. Ira Glass is my geek crush. He tells me the best stories out of anyone. And then he asks me to give money (“One dollar – five dollars – whatever you can spare. What kind of person do you want to be – someone who contributes, or someone who sits back and assumes someone else will take care of it? Do your part, so we can do ours.”), and I’m like, IRA I WILL DO ANYTHING.
Seriously, though. What a guy.