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Are we unhealthily, trulymadlydeeply obsessed with Rosie O'Donnell's blog? Yes, we are, and we're unashamed. How can there be shame in loving the poetic stylings of someone who can turn a mundane sneaker-shopping trip to the Sport Chalet in the Beverly Connection, Mall of the Dead-Eyed Damned (and the Occasional Souplantation Patron), into a story of loss, redemption, and generosity?

I heard
“it is blue with a zipper and orange piping”
the pain in his voice obvious
the red headed boy lost his wallet
i felt my heart crack [...]

his wallet – had 50 dollars in it
plus a tower records gift certificate
he had gotten for his birthday

putting out my hand to shake his –
i handed him a hundred
the way mobsters do movies
folded up tiny
i snuck it into his palm
before he knew it was happening
happy birthday i said
and walked away

We're also not ashamed to admit that we cried three times in the course of reading Rosie's post, which should immediately be clumsily illustrated and published as a children's book. Make sure you click through and read the entire thing, which features a twist ending worthy of O. Henry.