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.