I’d say to Darren Criss: “My handsome handsome Filipino Hobbit. You’re awesome. No really, you are. You make Dumbledore sing, it’s hilarious. You rock the White Boy ‘Fro, it’s sexy. You don some pink sunglasses, it’s cool. One question: Can I please get a pic with you, Starkid King? You grabbed my hand in Indy. I wanted to snap a picture but was afraid I’d pull you off the stage. (That would be bad.) I must try again. (The picture taking, not the pulling you off stages. Again, bad.) Don’t doubt that this cute-if-broke-and-geeky Hoosier Hobbit won’t hop in his hooptee and drive straight to NY upon landing tickets to your show. (Said Hobbit now begs and pleads with Celebuzz to make a heartland boy’s dream come true, a small guy who held up a sign at the Glee concert that said “Chris Colfer Let Me Be Your Blaine.” Midwestern gay boys. We’re adorable.) Why would I do all that? Why would I drive seventeen hours non-stop to see you, Darren, in concert? Oh yeah. Because you’re awesome.”
