Reason 313

Racquetball. In the last month I have rediscovered my affinity for a sport where small blue balls zip past my head at unsafe speeds and I unsuccessfully attempt to smack them with a tiny racket. For reasons unknown to man, the racquetball skills possessed by my husband, who isn't the most athletic of fellows, have improved by leaps and bounds, while mine seem to be more on the trajectory of toddler-sized hops. And yet I continue to play against him a few times a week. Such a masochist. At least I am entertaining in my gracelessness. Turns out I'm kind of like the John McEnroe of the local racquetball scene (if that scene actually existed), throwing mild tantrums and swearing up a blue streak when I miss easy shots. I'm also a bit of a rebel, playing sans safety goggles despite signs posted outside the courts encouraging players to protect their peepers and the pleas of my dear friend Emily, who is convinced a ball is going to get lodged in my socket, creating a vacuum that will suck my eyeball clean out. Have I mentioned that some of my friends are insane? Anyhoo, I hear you get your endorphins pumping by putting a bike between your legs, Jason, but if you ever want to squeeze in a game or two of racquetball and come away feeling pretty darn good about your athletic prowess, just let me know. I may even consider wearing safety goggles, if you promise not to destroy me too badly.

Image source: http://www.johncandy.com/videos/images/imgVidThumb_64.jpg

Reason 312

Kick-ass librarians. After speaking at the American Library Association's midwinter meeting this year, you must be aware, Jason, that librarians are some of the coolest people on the planet. With all of the time I spent in public libraries growing up, I already knew this, but now that I have switched careers (see reason 310) I get to witness such awesomeness on a regular basis. A few weeks ago I wrapped up a year-long library media endorsement program at the University of Washington and today I passed a grueling on-line multiple choice test, which means Washington state officially recognizes me as one of those kick-ass librarians I referenced a few sentences ago. I don't know how it's possible, but I am even cooler today than I was yesterday, all because of a little piece of paper. Just think, Jason, how many incredible librarians I could introduce you to if we were besties. I mean, you haven't partied until you've spent Friday night with a bunch of censorship-hating bibliophiles, drinking beer, eating triple chocolate cake, and watching a couple of dogs play tug of war in the backyard. Don't even get me started on the raucous games of Cards Against Humanity! I'm blushing just thinking about some of the perverse cards that were thrown down on my dining room table last week. Of course, I have met a few less-than-stellar librarians in my lifetime (I'm talking about you, cranky lady at the Newport Way branch who wouldn't let me use the phone to call my mom for a ride home), but thankfully they seem to be few and far between. So, the next time you're in town I promise to introduce you to some of my colleagues who consistently blow my mind with their passion, innovation and dedication to this profession of mine. Just promise me you'll brush up on your knowledge of Dewey beforehand. I'd hate for you to feel left out when all of us start cracking jokes about MARC records and you think we're talking about Mr. Antony's latest album.

image source: http://www.quickmeme.com/img/a3/a3b9a8def0c03992594ad87663795cd7a1353bb4de82195d4a17301b68da2272.jpg

Reason 311

Big days. I'm sure you don't realize it, Jason, but you were present for two of the most important days of my life. Since I'm one of those obnoxiously modern feminist types who questions traditional gender roles, I decided I couldn't wait for my then-boyfriend to get his act together and propose; I'd be a genuine spinster before he got down on one knee and professed his undying love for me. Not because he doesn't adore me, but rather because he is a procrastinator to the nth degree. So, I took the bull by the horns and, in front of many friends and a few strangers who had had too much to drink, I sang Lewis a medley of songs that reflected the evolution of our relationship, ending with "Marry Me" by Bruno Mars. As I'm sure you've surmised, my dear friend, he agreed we'd make a fabulous married couple (and we do) and then we celebrated with cupcakes and a very well-received rendition of "Life's a Happy Song" while the accompanying movie clip played behind us. So you see Jason, you were actually present the night I got engaged. You also made an appearance on my wedding day. Once the vows were said (and I must say they were delightfully funny), rings were exchanged, and Lewis planted a big, wet, lickery kiss on me, we blissfully waltzed down the aisle flanked by family and friends to the smooth stylings of one Mr. Jason Segel, BFF extraordinnaire. That's right - our wedding song was "Life's a Happy Song". Seemed like a better fit than "Dracula's Lament". Now every time that ditty shuffles up on my iPod I get a ridiculously dopey grin on my face and am transported back to that overcast day in July when we threw the best darn wedding most guests had ever been to. I mean, bacon was served. Need I say more?

I'd like to think I've supported you on a few of your big days, too, Jason. I drove over twelve hours to be in the audience the first time you performed in the San Francisco SketchFest and I was there a few hours later when you performed a second time. I've also attended quite a number of opening nights for your movies. I'm sure my $12 tickets made a huge impact on the box office stats for "Forgetting Sarah Marshall", "Despicable Me", and "Bad Teacher", I probably convinced at least two other people to see those flicks after posting my impressions on some social media site. This afternoon you are making an appearance at the Barnes & Noble at the Grove in L.A. and, while I won't physically be in the room with you, I will most definitely be thinking about you and sending positive vibes your way. A few days ago, when I found out you'd be signing books on the same coast I happen to live on, I actually consulted my calendar and checked on airfare to your hometown. Then I realized it would be a tad insane and stalkeresque to fly to L.A. on a Saturday morning, rent a car, maybe chat with you for one minute while you scribbled your name in my copy of Nightmares!, and then hop on a flight home that evening. I love you, Jason, and a plate of chilaquilles rojas from the Mexican joint at the famed Farmer's Market next to the Grove would've made my tummy extremely happy, but I just can't justify the trip. Also, I already have plans for tonight to celebrate my dear friend Tamara's birth and it would be really lame to bail on the unavoidable craziness that is bound to occur in the presence of  nine, acapella-singing gay men. Despite my absence, I'm sure you'll have a stellar turnout, Jason. I wish you all the luck in the world and pray that your hand doesn't cramp up from all the autograph signing you're bound to do. If you happen to drop by a bookstore in Seattle to promote your new book I promise to be in the front row, grinning maniacally and totally creeping you out. That's just what best friends do.

Good on ya'!

I am happy to report, Jason, that I finished Nightmares! last night and thoroughly enjoyed it. Congrats on writing a funny book with a great message that doesn't treat kids like they're idiots and will also appeal to adult fans of kid's books. My copy will be added to my school's library collection so many others can root for Charlie as he battles his demons, and you can bet your sweet bippy that I'll be talking it up. Looking forward to the second book, sir!

Reason 310

A match made in heaven. It's been a busy couple of weeks around here, Jason, and it looks like you're keeping busy too, with all of the interviews you're giving for your new book. A huge congratulations, by the way! Between filming awkward sex scenes with Cameron Diaz and wrapping up the final season of HIMYM, I am quite impressed that you managed to co-author a children's book. Now, unlike you I haven't been maniacally pounding away at my keyboard as of late (which is pretty obvious from my lack of blog posts). I have, however, filled many hours trolling Pinterest for eye-catching bulletin boards, sifting through piles and piles of highly regarded picture books, and committing new biblio-centric acronyms to memory. Why would I submit myself to such delightful pursuits, you ask? Well, after teaching squirrely 6th graders for nine years I decided to shift gears and become a teacher-librarian at an elementary school. Holy cow, I bet you didn't see that one coming...unless you know me really well and know that I am obsessed with children's and YA books and basically spend all of my free time at the public library and have stacks and stacks of unread books covering the floor of our spare bedroom and always pack at least 10 books when I go on vacation and have the word "read" tattooed on my wrist and, well, you get the picture. I guess my acceptance of this new gig isn't much of a shocker after all. Anyhoo, it seems rather serendipitous that I should become a book peddler for the elementary set around the same time that you're peddling a book to that demographic. See? We're a match made in bibliophilic heaven! Feel free to stop by school any time for an author visit, Jason, or send a boatload of autographed copies of Nightmares, or drop in via Skype for a quick interview during check out time. The kids won't mind if you interrupt my riveting read aloud, although you'll have to top my wizard outfit, which includes an exquisite hand-whittled wand made by my adoring husband. Well, I should probably wrap this up, throw on my Muppets pajamas, snuggle down under the covers, and start reading your book. I'm looking forward to taking a peek into your psyche, Jason, and wish you all the best on this new venture of yours.
picture source: http://schlitterblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/peanutbutterlover.jpg

Reason 309

Home visits. My husband and I went to Disneyland last week and decided to squeeze a morning of LA exploration in between days at the happiest place on Earth. We strolled along the Santa Monica pier, held our noses as we explored the La Brea Tar Pits, gorged ourselves at the oldest farmer's market in the city, and swung by Jim Henson Studios for a photo op in front of the gate (which, let's admit, was probably the most exciting thing we did that day). It turns out that Chateau Marmont is a mere few blocks from Kermit's home and since I know you live within stumbling distance of the famous hotel, Jason, I thought it only appropriate to swing by for a quick visit. Well, it turns out it's awfully difficult to find someone's house without the actual address. The Internet was no help at all, only generating images of you exiting a door while holding dry cleaning or some such nonsense and pics that were posted before you purchased your house, which provide absolutely no kind of neighborhood context clues. Harumph. It would be so much easier on me (and my ridiculously patient husband who indulges my every whim) if I had my best friend's home address. Not only vould we have had a lovely visit, Jason, but we could have invited you to join us at Disneyland the next day. Who would pass up such a glorious opportunity?! I don't plan on being in the LA area any time soon (because, honestly, what Seattleite purposefully spends time outside in 85-degree weather), but the next time I'm heading your way, Mr. Segel, I will expect an invite.

Reason 308

Vanity. I am not what most people would consider to be a vain person. Looking gorgeous has never been a priority and I admit to being flummoxed by the billions of dollars women spend each year on make-up, hair care, weight loss products, and plastic surgery. Even on my wedding day, when I was photographed incessantly, all I put on my face (other than a big dopey grin) was some mascara, eye shadow and lip gloss. This isn't because I am a natural beauty who dazzles everyone she meets with just a wink and a smile. Nope, I would just rather put my time, energy and money towards other things, like reading the latest YA masterpiece, perfecting my chocolate chip cookie recipe, and singing ridiculous impromptu songs to my dog until he runs away in fear. Even at the height of teenage insecurity, when my face looked like the bumpy, reddish surface of an alien planet and my hair would have made Paul Mitchell drop dead in horror, I happily directed the spotlight to me, going as far as playing Tuba Ruba in front of strangers at parties (here's a link to the commercial, Jason, in case you aren't familiar with this, um, incredible game from the 80's: click here to have mind blown). Scary, isn't it? And to think I wrapped plastic tubes around my body and writhed around like a drunken fish out of water in front of other human beings. Like I said, vanity isn't really my thing, which will probably come in handy when I'm hanging out with my future bestie with some testes, one Mr. Jason Segel, and we are tailed by soulless paparazzi. I will have no problem looking like an idiot on camera in an attempt to keep those stalkers from snapping less than flattering pictures of you scratching your bum or picking your teeth or...whatever it is you do when you think no one is looking. The one thing I will ask for in return, though, is your willingness to have a couple of photos taken of the two of us together. You see, the one picture I own of me with you, my dear friend, was taken several years ago when I weighed about 25 pounds more than I currently do and, while my heart is filled with joy every time I glance at it in the frame with The Great Muppet Caper album cover you signed for me, I look rather puffy and tired. Besides, you're looking much healthier these days too, so it only seems right to have a more accurate representation of our fabulous selves hanging in my TV room. We can enjoy one moment of vanity, I guess, and then promptly return to acting like fools, no matter who happens to be watching.