I have a Canadian boyfriend. He is funny, and cute, and a very talented artist. He draws darling pictures of animals and other miscellaneous stuff. He makes me laugh every day, and doesn’t mind that I’m married. (He’s married too.)

If you’re in the market for a boyfriend, I highly recommend the Canadian variety.

How did we meet? I found him on Twitter. He’s a friend of a friend.

I follow a lot of really funny, talented people on Twitter. A lot of my old comedy improv buddies are starting to make names for themselves, which only serves to blur my reality. I’ll see a comedian on a show and think, “Hey, I used to hang out with them at IO!” Then I’ll realize I’m mistaken, and I only recognize them from Saturday Night Live or something.

Many of my old class mates get cast in commercials. I always get excited when I see an old friend on t.v. because it means they got PAID to do something they love. A few months ago, while channel surfing, I saw my ex-boyfriend (He’s not Canadian, in case you were wondering.) in a Geico commercial. I’m that girl that remains friends with all of her ex’s, so I was thrilled for him. I think I gave him a facebook high-five.

Some of the people I follow on Twitter pretend not to know me. *cough* Rob Delaney and Dave Holmes *cough*. Never mind that we went through an entire long form comedy improv program together from start to finish, and you invited me to be a part of your herald team… Then you kicked me out. Ok, technically you didn’t kick me out. You just dissolved the team, then made a new one that consisted of all the old members except me. I can’t say that I blame you. I was a bit much to take back then. (Ok, I still am.)

Dave, I’ve been in your home (while you were there even!) and broken bread with you, but I know I was an insignificant background player in the movie that is your life, so the fact that you probably couldn’t pick me out of a line up doesn’t bother me in the least.

Rob, your ignorance of my exhistance stings a little bit. I used to have a bit of a crush on you, and I thought it was subconsciously returned because even though I’m not a very hairy woman, you used to give many of your improv characters the last name of Phillips. My maiden name. That right there is a clear indication that I was on your mind too.

I don’t only follow comedians on Twitter. I also follow bloggers. The fact that most of them happen to be funny is just a bonus. The first blogger I followed was Heather B. Armstrong. She’s famous ya’ll! I have been reading her blog for years, and was thrilled to actually meet her in person back in March. (Of course I blogged about it.) I consider Heather to be my awesome, older (By 3 years – so we totally would have shared clothes growing up) cyber sister. She rocked a pair of cobalt blue tights to meet the president you guys. That’s hard core.

Heather has 1,587,828 followers as I write this. She follows 288. I am one of those 1,587,828, and I am also one of those 288. Believe me, I am thrilled to no end that if I tweet about eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and Heather happens to be on Twitter at that time, she will actually SEE my tweet, and know that I am eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And really, isn’t that a beautiful thing?

Another blogger I follow is Tara. That’s Tar-uh, and not Tear-uh, for those of you not in the know. Tara has recently discovered a way to increase a Ken doll’s penis size. I don’t know about you, but if someone finds a cure for cancer this year and robs Tara of the Nobel Peace Prize, I’m gonna be pissed. I mean, yay, cancer sucks, I’m glad it would be defeated and all, but this woman is a genius, and deserves to be properly recognized.

In addition to solving Ken’s package problem, Tara is an amazing writer. She pens cathartic memoires that make me laugh, tear up, and totally relate to her, all at the same time.

Oh, crap. The orchestra is playing me off. I have run out of my allotted speach giving time. I have many other special Twitter people I would love to introduce you to. Sadly I can’t party online all damn day. My kids tend to get violent if I don’t feed them somewhat regularly. I will leave you with links to their Twitter feeds, and you can try to figure out why I heart them on your own. It will be fun. You can make a little game out of it!

Wuppy Allie Sarah Dadsuplate

Fuck it – this is taking forever. Check out my Twitter feed, and rest secure in the knowledge that if I’m following them, they are awesome. Check ‘em out.

Tweet This Post