When I called my dear close personal lady friend Christina Hendricks last night, I’d interrupted her bath. And that was just the beginning of my troubles.
I feigned ignorance: “Who?”
“Christina Ricci, as if you didn’t know.”
“I’m sorry. I drunk dialed. I meant to call you, honest.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I forgive you. That, and all the nice things you’ve written, trying to help raise money so that Soldiers’ Angels can send out more than 150,000 care packages to our troops stationed overseas this Christmas season.”
“I’m trying,” I offered.
“I know that, too. And besides, Christina and I got to talking last night, and one thing led to another. She’s still in the tub. Want to come over? Two Christinas, no waiting.”
For a phone call that started off with me in trouble, it sure had a happy ending.