Dear Norman Reedus: Shhh! I won't hurt you. I only want to hump you from behind.

As most of my Facebook followers know, I have a crush on Norman Reedus. Like, a mad mad crush. And by mad mad crush I mean that I have contemplated hiring some kind of voodoo priestess to make a soup out of chicken feet and cow eyeballs and alligator wieners and the crushed up toenails of one-eyed monkeys with psoriasis, and dance around a fire naked and covered in the saliva of a 3-legged ferrel pig with a mood disorder while wearing a hat made out of elephant testicles and chanting Norman's name so that he will love me. If you happen to know Norman personally, don't tell him I said all that. Just be real cool and casual and all "Hey dude, there's this cool chick who writes this amazing blog and she thinks you're a really good actor and has lots of respect for your body of work." And try to say it really serious and stuff. Do not giggle when you say "body of work" because then he might not think I respect him. And I do. I respect him and his body. Of work.

As most of my Facebook followers ALSO know, I have a thing for zombies. As long as I can remember, I have been a sucker for a good zombie flick. I can't get enough of that stuff and I have been planning my Zombie Apocalypse Survival Plan since I was but a wee lass. I think about it so often that each time I enter a new place (house, office building, mall, etc...) I instantly get some kinda Terminator-y scanning screen that pops up in my vision as I survey my surroundings and instantly make a plan for what happens if the Z.A. starts while I'm there, i.e. who will be on my team, who will get eaten first, where I would go, and what I could use as weaponry. I have plans, people. Big plans.

I've had a crush on Norman for quite awhile, but he flew to the top of the heap-o-crushes that I have when The Walking Dead premiered. Holy hell, you guys. You take an already hot piece of man and you give him a crossbow, an attitude, a motorcycle, and Zombie killing skillz out the wazoo, and this girl is sold. Cover him with dirt and have him throw on a necklace made out of Zombie ears, and my pulse is quickening and I feel a bit faint. Screw that whole "Every kiss begins with Kay" bullshit. I don't want no stinkin' princess cut diamond in a platinum setting. I want Norman to show a walker who's boss and bring me a ring made out of a Zombie tooth or a nose or something. I'm kinda getting overheated just thinking about it.

Everyone knows that one of my favorite pastimes is what I call "Surprise Buttsecksing." It really kicked into full gear when I was in L.A. last spring and I talked the driver of our "Celebrity Home Tour" bus into letting me out to S.B.S. a statue in someone's yard in Beverly Hills:

That's it...bend over and pick up the paper. What could possibly happen?

After that, I really got obsessed with the whole S.B.S. thing and I went after a few statues:

After posting a plethora of photos of me giving it to various things from behind, one of my readers showed me a picture of Norman that they found on the interwebs, and I knew then that we were somehow, someday, some way, meant to cross paths and S.B.S. eachother:

I don't know who Norman is giving it to here, but I'm giving it to my friend Stephanie.

Lately Norman has been traveling around to all these comic book and horror conventions and TONS of my followers are sending me photos of themselves with MY Norman, and I'm getting pretty pissy. I mean, sure, I'm totally happy for everyone that they are getting their shot to meet MY man and everything, but come on. They could at least give him my number. Or my email. Or the link to my website. Or a picture of my boobies photoshopped with some giant boobies over them so they look appealing. People are so freaking selfish, you guys. And it really makes me worry about the future. I mean, I know that I, for one, won't be including any selfish people in my Kick-Ass Zombie Apocalypse Team. And guess what, mofos? My friend Jackie and I are building a Zombie Apocalypse Skating Rink and YOU can't come. That's right. Jackie had the genius idea of making an impenetrable Zombie fortress/skating rink combo that is like a combination of the movies Xanadu and Dawn of the Dead. Why roam around the U.S. fighting for your lives against dead people when you can be safely ensconced in a fortress of Disco, skating, and making out with cute mens? We are each inviting 5 people to join us, and we've got no shortage of people vying for those spots. And I'll tell you one thing right now: Meeting Norman and only thinking about yourselves and YOUR needs instead of me and mine... that don't get you no spot at all. I mean, maybe you will get a spot as Zombie bait. Every horror movie needs a few helpless ditzes to die here and there. Or you could be our roller skate disinfecting person. And my feet sweat like balls when I'm getting my roller jam on. Just so ya know.

Anyways....as part of my last contest (ahem...Surprise Buttsecksing Contest, of course) I asked people to make a creative drawing or photoshop or something of me, and my reader Mary Souto made my favorite:

That's me, Norman, a Zombie fighting unicorn that I am going to call Barnaby Bad-Ass Baggins, some a-hole Zombies, and lookie lookie what's under Norman's arm. That's right. A 12-pack of Modelo, bitches. We're about to unicorn horn some walkers in the head then go drink some beers and make out in a tree while Barnaby Bad-Ass Baggins keeps watch on the ground and poops out a bunch of Pez for us to have for a mid-makeout snack.

Thank you, Mary, for this lovely picture. You're prizes will be on the way to your house soon.

And P.S. Somebody give Norman my number already. Holy hell, you guys. I've been patient as all get out, but if I get one more picture of you guys with my man I'm gonna lose my mind up in here up in here. And think about it: THIS is me WITH my mind. Do you really wanna see me lose it? Can you even imagine the repercussions?

And P.P.S. On October 26-28 Comic Con is in Austin, and guess who will be there? That's right. Mr. Reedus. I'm feeling a road trip and some S.B.S. going on. Who wants to drive?