It’s Allison Hatfield. And, tonight, Rhett Miller, who’s onstage here in NYC at Webster Hall. I happen to be on the guest list with two people who not only have his phone number but can actually call him at home and say, “See you tonight — what time?” Despite my excitement of being just one degree of separation from him twice, I don’t know that I actually want to meet him. Life could just go downhill from there. I’m probably better served to watch him sling sweat and sing sweetly from afar.
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