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Eight years ago the phone at theCHIVE HQ in Venice Beach rang. My awesome assistant at the time, Lindsey, turned ghost white and handed me the phone, “It’s Bill Murray, he wants to talk to you.”
She had that look on her face like, “I’m not fucking joking, it’s Bill.”
I froze, it’s not everyday your hero in life calls. We hadn’t met Bill yet, we’d put his face on a lot of t-shirts and it had smacked his radar, I braced myself to get chewed out.
“Hello?”
“You know, chief, I kinda’ like the shirt. Why don’t you come to my charity golf tournament in St. Augustine this spring and we’ll wrap a little bit?”
“Mr. Murray, I just wanted you to know I’m a huge fan and – “
click.
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