Today is my birthday. This morning I tweeted some things hoping to guilt people into replying to me. It’s the least they could do.
First, LeVar Burton:
So I figured I’d try Glen Mazzara, EP of the Walking Dead.
Jonathan Coulton is a great guy, I’m told. A great guy. A stand-up fellow.
Maybe a different musician…
So I switched back to actors. Younger, this time. And British. They have manners and stuff.
So I started to think, maybe asking wasn’t a good idea. Maybe I’d win someone over with charm and giggles.
See, I always wanted there to be an opera-singing, tuxedo-wearing, crime-fighting walrus with erectile dysfunction called Flaccido Domingo. Paul and Storm didn’t mention anything about penises, so I focused on obesity.
Maybe a really bad joke wasn’t the way to win them over.
These people weren’t really bringing me the birthday magic.
You know what, though? It’s all okay. It’s all just fine…
It no longer mattered that none of my other nerdy idols had responded to me. Anne came through.
LIKE SHE ALWAYS DOES, JONATHAN COULTON. LIKE SHE ALWAYS DOES.