When I hear Ewan McGregor sing “Your Song,” it’s like eating a really big Mento. There’s a really really fast rush of “I don’t think this is a good idea” when all the condensed mint flavor kind of explodes all over the place, but then half a second later I realize that I am absolutely invigorated and can conquer anything, in a soft and simple way. Take that, infected monster bug bites. Take that, student loans! Take that, enormous load of laundry that’s been building up for a month. None of you matter because Ewan McGregor has just professed his feelings for me to all of Paris. And his voice didn’t falter even once. And I have the sweetest eyes he’s ever seen. Ha! And now I don’t have to brush my teeth, because I just had a Mento. Double ha!
– I was in the same room as Josh Ritter. While he sang with an orchestra. While he was standing 2 feet away from my Girl in the War book. Scientifically speaking, there’s an 85% chance he saw the book lying on the ground at one point, 90% chance that it didn’t get thrown away at the end of the concert, and 100% chance that we will be secret pen pals.
– The world cup happened. I laughed and cried and sang Waka Waka and called David Villa a lot of mean things (because that’s what you do when you have a crush on someone).