When the lovely Phoebe pitched this story to me, my initial reaction was to run. Run as far away in the other direction as possible.
What if Michael Cera somehow manages to read this? I wasn't ready for our chances at true love to plummet from 0.0001% to non-existent.
Surely, the best way to a celebrity's heart is to pretend you have no idea who they are, so that when you do meet at that random premiere you didn't research on Twitter three days beforehand, you can partake in that brief affair without any false pretenses?
Fine. I'm pretty sure I blew those chances in my last article, when all the top comments were about the giant floating Michael Cera head that is, you know, casually plastered on my living room wall (a surprise gift from my boyfriend, who finds him funny and obviously non-threatening. He knows nothing).
How can you not love George Michael Bluth? Those eyes. That face. The social ineptness that screams "I'm really vulnerable and just need a hug"?
I can't help it, you guys. I'm all for the tallish, lanky, awkward, adorable type. So, I leave you with this video.
Tell me it's not love: