In today's ultra-competitive dating scene, it's not enough to have a good personality, a headful of hair, an MBA from Wharton, and the ability to distinguish between a diamond and cubic zirconia (or at least, that's what my mom says I should be looking for in a romantic partner). These days, if you want to get a date, you have to get creative by asking the person out with a quirky YouTube video (above). That's what Chelsea Gill did a week ago, when she posted a ditty asking Muppets star Jason Segel out for a drink. Little did she know that Segel would get wind of the song, later taking her up on her offer by bringing her as his date to the Chicago Film Critics award show.
Gill wrote the song last week after watching Segel's 2008 film, Forgetting Sarah Marshall. "I wrote a little silly song — it took me a half-hour to write," Gill says. "It was mostly just for my friends. I never in a million years thought he'd see it." Days after she posted the video, Segel tweeted a link to it, calling it "his favorite thing, maybe ever," and Gill got a call from his publicist saying that Segel wanted the songwriter to be his date to the Chicago Film Critics awards. Segel then met Gill and her twin sister at the Ritz-Carlton for drinks last Saturday before squiring them both to the ceremony. "He's this busy guy doing his own thing and I'm so humbled and touched that he would take time out of his busy schedule just to get a drink with me," Gill said.
Honestly, this whole normies-asking-famouses-out-via-YouTube trend is kinda starting to get a little creepy, but the song is cute and Jason Segel's awesome and given the success rate of this sort of thing, I think it's time we start considering going down this road if we want a shot at sleeping with our own celebrity crushes.
With this in mind, I would like to use this forum as an opportunity to humbly ask Jimmy Fallon, Craig from Degrassi, Luke Perry circa 1991, Anthony Bourdain, Non-Dead Gene Kelly, and Waldo from Where's Waldo if they would like to knock back Jager bombs and eat mozzarella sticks and accompany me back to my tiny-ass Midwestern apartment, where we will watch Family Guy and have some mediocre sex before I kick you out in the morning for sleep-farting. Now it's your move, gentlemen.