in the Best Western in a small Montana town, I hear my Hollywood
publicist brother's phone ring in the room next door. "Oh, hi,
________!" Steve says, and proceeds to shoot the breeze with a
Hollywood acting legend. I want to yell into the phone that earlier in
the day ________'s fancy publicist was swinging from his mommy's
clothesline in rural Montana, pretending he was in the Olympics, but
since I already pointed out a high chair for him at a diner today
(he's short), I refrain. I am a bully of a big brother, but I know my
limits.
Sent from my iPhone
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