I settled into the sofa, preparing to gorge myself on the brainless mind-candy of a trashy magazine—specifically, a deep dive into whether Carrot Top or Kathy Griffin was the “truer” redhead. It was the kind of low-stakes feud I lived for. When the phone rang, I didn’t even look at the caller ID. I just crabbed, “Whoever this is, make it quick. I’m in the middle of a ginger-war.”