I know what you are thinking:
As a loyal ginandtacos.com reader, I'm always up to date on the links you keep on the right side of your webpage. And while checking gapserblock, I saw a post related to something lame involving Star Trek, that when followed through, cites an email address firstname.lastname@example.org.
Mike I know your email is usually email@example.com: is this you? If this is true mike, this is lame, even for you. This is lame, even for the internet.
Harsh, but true. As it stands I am the Number One officer (that's second in charge for you neophytes) for the Illinois chapter of trekunited.com. Long story short I pointed out the webpage to my roommate as a random site (I'm not a fan of the show, but he is), who immediately got in touch with the people in charge, and became a ranking member of their site.
He asked me "are you in?" It was the tone that close friends use when things are going to get a bit intense (the last time I used it, I believe, was showing up to a hungover friend's apartment saying nothing but "we have a red convertable and we are driving to Kentucky to drink Maker's Mark. Are you in?") – and as such I realized I had no choice in the matter.
My first fundraising idea was to have a bake sale where we would be from the future, having traveled through time bringing fresh cookies from the 23rd century to help Scott Bakula. But I realized that this didn't go far enough. We had to do something dramatic. So we rented out Logan Square auditorium and decided to throw:
We contacted the internet all this weekend, telling people of the plans through various message boards. You could imagine my surprise when I opened my trekunited.com email address this morning and, instead of seeing hundreds of Star Trek fans rallying at my digital horn of gondor, finding a single email, from France. Babelfish could not determine whether or not the writer loved or hated the Bakula (the first person to comment an accurate translation will get an inappropriate belated internet v-day card from me).
As such, I'm getting a bit worried about this party – and I've gone to Red Alert. Have I mislead the female singer-songwriter pianist into thinking she is going to be "playing a normal party we are just throwing for a random group of people" so that she'd think "it would be a great place to invite all your [female] friends"? Have I had to write an email explaining why I'd make a good addition to the Gay Enterprise Fans Yahoo Group, in the hope of getting word to a possible cluster of guys living in Boystown who are a little too much into Quantum Leap? Have I outright bribed close friends into showing? Yes to all of these things, and to more.
And now I appeal to you. If you've always wanted to hang out/meet/get back in contact with me, but (or only) wanted to see me in a humble [read: wearing Starfleet jumpsuit] situation, now is your chance. You would all get a major favor back out of me; if you buy raffle tickets the favor can be of the "it's 2am and I'm covered in blood and I need you to come over and put your fingerprints on this gun/knife/candlestick" variety.
Do it for me. No wait; do it for Scott.
see you there. mike out.