Wipe Your Feet

I have an essay over at Grantland today. I really hope you like it, because writing for Grantland was an honor — the kind of honor that makes you feel very small, like you could clear some space in the center console of your car and climb into it, closing the lid so nobody can see you, hear you, or read you and think “Why is this person taking up space on a website written by way smarter people?”

I didn’t really shrink. I can’t climb in the center console of my car, and even if I could, it smells so weird in there I wouldn’t want to. It isn’t always bad to feel tiny, especially when you’re writing about TV shows during which people eat cerebellum sashimi (my favorite). In fact, I feel as great as I do miniscule, because I got to do something really fun for writers I admire so much. But, like I said, I hope you dig the essay, because when I dip below 5’3” (a loss of up to 2” is to be expected here and there) I think of the kindness and support I’ve gotten from many of you here on Tumblr, and how that has often enabled me to continue to go on the big-girl roller coasters and see over the dashboard of my car without sitting on a phone book. Sometimes people get shy, you know. So thank you. Now go enjoy your brains.