Love Letters, pt. 9

Dear Felicia Day (Again),

I hope that the Love Letters I wrote after writing yours have not caused you to doubt my love for you in any way. You’re still number one in my heart (even if you don’t read my blog).

If anything, writing my love letters to other people has only strengthened my love of you. After all, Jack Black, though extremely dreamy, does not hold a candle to you. Not to mention my obsession with Harry Potter is apparently “unhealthy” and “a bit odd” considering he is fictional. Whatever.

But I digress.

The truth is I felt the need to write you a second letter not just to express my love but also my to show my respect.

I have those same wine glasses! It's a sign <3

I have those same wine glasses! It’s a sign ❤

Since writing my first letter to you I have gone back and re-watched all the episodes of your Flog and other uploads to YouTube. I even dreamed one night that you wrote a book which I obviously read. It was great (both the book and the dream).

Your awkwardness and ability to own your quirkiness truly is an inspiration to me, especially on days when I feel too weird for words.

(I feel vaguely stalker-ish right now. I promise you, despite all the signs that clearly say “Stranger Danger”, I really am not that weird. Well, I am that weird, but not “creepy” weird … Ok. Not “dangerously creepy” creepy, just run of the mill creepy. Like an overeager puppy. … I’m going to stop explaining myself now.)

Any way … I had hoped to have you one day read my Love Letter (I guess “Letters” now) and see them for the compliment they truly are. You kick ass, girlfriend! (Ok, never saying that again.)

Instead I fear I have joined the ranks of creepsters who send you unbelievably inappropriate messages on Facebook without the slightest bit of shame. I blush when I read the comments section of your Facebook and YouTube pages. People are gross. I know that I was a bit risqué in my last letter and I hope that did not offend you. (I know it didn’t because you don’t read my blog, but I won’t hold that against you.)

But I digress, again.

I just wanted to take another opportunity to gush about you.

You are probably the coolest person ever in the universe and I love you a lot. Thank you for being my imaginary best friend and also for making the wonderfully entertaining entertainments that make up Geek and Sundry possible.

I hope one day that I will be able to meet you and not frighten you by being super intense and eager. You see, Felicia, I honestly feel that if I manage not to creep you out we would get along great and then be super tight and delightfully quirky as friends (probably even better friends than Rachael and Monica, and they were, like, really good friends).

A girl can dream.

Until then,


I imagine our first meeting will look something like this. Thank you for smiling politely.

I imagine our first meeting will look something like this. I will do my best not to be super awkward, but I make no promises.

Love Letters, pt. 3

This love letter is in honour of George Stroumboulopoulos’ recent 40th birthday. I am sorry it is so late, but the truth is his milestone birthday has made me feel old and I have been in denial.

Dear Strombo,
(May I call you Strombo? When answering, please note that I will call you Strombo regardless. Ok? Cool.)

After Zack Morris and Tuxedo Mask you were my first television crush. I have fond memories of watching you VJ on Much Music, the volume on mute so I could play Spice Girls in the background while pretending that watching your show somehow made me more “punk”. Sometimes I would bribe my siblings by offering to do their chores so I could take the remote, granting myself an hour of your time.

You were my only Canadian Celebrity Crush (at least until I realized Ryan Gosling was Canadian. I sure do love Ryan Gosling).

These days I content myself by watching highlights of “The Hour” (I’ve yet to watch an entire episode, and wasn’t even aware that it’s no longer called “The Hour” until I did a Google search of you before posting this) and subscribing to your feed on Facebook. (Not to actually read it, but to see your dreamy eyes pop on my home page with startling frequency. For such a busy man you sure spend a lot of time online. Are you paid per post?)

Unlike my previous love letters I do not have a list of qualities I love about you (though there are many), and I will not be listing the reasons we belong together. You see, I never entertained dreams of us marrying. Not because of the age gap or the knowledge that I never had a chance in hell of actually meeting you, but because Sarah Stroumboulopoulos sounds ridiculous.

(If any of your family members are named Sarah I apologize. Both for the insensitivity of my remark and because they are named Sarah Stroumboulopoulos.)

With love, affection and a hefty dose of nostalgia,


PS. I too love the Montreal Canadiens and their crumbling empire. Though, that’s mostly because I look good in Red.

You read? I read too! Clearly we were meant to be.