So, here’s the thing.
I love you all very much, but I’m kind of a popular person. People at work need me at work. My pizza place needs me to buy pizza. My bed needs me to lie in it. You get the picture. I’m important.
It’s hard out their for us popular people, and as such sometimes we let a few obligations slide, like writing for the most brilliant blog of all time, The DVR Files. Like I needed to remind you what the most brilliant blog of all time is.
But some of our lapses are unforgivable.
Yesterday I forgot to wish Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows a happy seventh birthday.
Send over the Death Eaters because I deserve to be in Azkaban.
If you told me seven years ago that I would forget the anniversary of the most monumental occasion in the history of the world–and no, I’m not talking about Kim/Kanye’s wedding–I would have laughed at you for being such a silly Muggle. Because home girl CELEBRATED the day seven years ago on July 21, 2007. I went to the Scholastic block party on the eve of the big release, surrounded by my friends from the Harry Plotters Club (we reread the six books in the months before the Deathly Hallows release in order to predict the plot. Get it?) and a bunch of six-year-olds. We made wands, we cast spells, it was a grand old time. I even met a hot older German and we almost had a Lost in Translation moment but then he didn’t pay for my coffee and I was all, see ya later!
And so yesterday what did I do? Did I burn an effigy of Voldemort? Did I eat Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans? Did I pray to Dumbledore?
Hell no. I worked and went to the gym (my inversion table weight limit 400 lbs waiting for me, good old friend).
So there you have it. It’s truly the curse of being so popular. I’ll try to become less popular by July 21, 2015, so I can wish Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows a happy eighth birthday. It’s the least I can do.