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Published September 21, 2009

So this past Tuesday I had the amazingly once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see Ed Helms live at a show at Largo at the Coronet and then after get a picture with, and all-too-briefly speak to, him. In a situation that would only happen to me, I sort of freaked out a little (not in a crazy, he-should-fear-for-his-safety manner but in a nevertheless still unbecoming way) and we left after about maybe 40 words tumbled out of my giddy mouth. The memory of this encounter wouldn’t pester me so much normally. But he asked me my goddam name, see? (Haha, I love Catcher in the Rye) After Margie told him he I was “like half in love” with him, he asked my name and shook my hand (signaling openness to a conversation, right? Or to start the restraining order…but he didn’t follow up with inquiries to my birthday and social security number, so…). Upon which I can only describe the following incoherent ramblings as the forewarnings of verbal diarrhea. I honestly don’t think I made eye contact once throughout the two seconds I was talking, that’s how giddy I was about meeting the man I openly refer to as “my husband.” Anywho, shortly after this began, Margie mumbled something about “Well you guys have a good night” and started to walk away; me being obviously unable to think for myself simply muttered “Thanks” and followed her…away from Ed Helms.


I could have had a conversation with the man. That is the part that breaks my heart. Not that I could have convinced him to marry me or stared at his gorgeous face for an extended period of time, but that spoken words could have been conveyed between myself and the man portraying my favorite character on my favorite TV show right now. A dialogue could have occurred between the person who has made me laugh and smile so many times and my unbelievably giddy self. But alas, it was not in the cards, good people of Myspace and wherever else I post this. So therefore, as stalkerish or insane as you may want to believe this is, I have constructed a sorta-kinda love letter for the man I love so dearly (not in a creepy way).

 

Dear Ed Helms,

I love you. I think you are an amazing actor and an incredibly handsome guy. Add that to the fact that you play banjo (among other instruments), sing and appear to be a generally decent guy, I am smitten. I am currently slowly coming down from a severe case of The Office obsession (which of course, never fully goes away), and as soon as I saw Andy Bernard, I was in love. The Nard Dog to me is what Jim Halpert is to the large majority of female Office fans. You make me smile-it’s the simplest way to say it. I too own the Here Comes Treble shirt that one of the guys was wearing Tuesday; that’s how much I love Andy. It’s all you probably hear, but I saw the Hangover three times (twice in theaters, once at the drive-in) and will probably wear out my DVD copy once it comes out. Perhaps it is best that Margie dragged me away before I really started acting like a fan girl and told you that my twin Jessica and I love The Office so much that we began coming up with our own warehouse version of The Office, and then went so far as to have it cross-over with the real show. Or that your tiny part in Confessions of a Shopaholic only made me love the movie and book series even more. Thank you for finally forcing me to listen to Old Crow Medicine Show by having Willie Watson perform (one of my manager’s been telling me I’d like them forever, but I didn’t listen). He truly has an amazing voice. I went to work the next day and bought the only CD of theirs we had, and am now in love. I hope this “love letter” doesn’t seem too creepy, but it is highly unlikely that you will ever read this or that if you do, you’ll even remember me (or vice versa). But nevertheless, I just thought I’d put my love and admiration for you out there, into the world, as respectfully as I can, in hope that I would stop kicking myself about Tuesday as a result. In conclusion, I heart you Mr. Ed Helms and wish you nothing but a long, successful career and a happy life.

Love,

Kathleen Michelle Purkiss

 

PS You’re just as attractive as a zombie as you are normally and in real life.

   

AND

P.P.S. Your “I like tea…a lot” bit on Thursday’s episode of The Office just made me love you even more (even if Jessica uses it as justification for our soulmate-y-ness).

 

 

I mean, look at him...honestly, how could you not love him?

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