Apparently, he’s got one.
On Sunday, the wife and I decided we would head out to the farmer’s market at Currie Barracks. I usually stop in two places there for sure, the place where I get Farmer’s sausage, which is like bacon but 6-8 times the awesome, and Simple Simon Pies, which are 6-8 times more awesome than that, even.
I was proudly wearing my Correctness T-shirt at the time. Not so much in an effort to advertise, as it was part of my life long quest to associate myself with something that has a logo. When I stopped at the sausage place, a sprightly young lass behind the counter said “Oh my God, WHERE did you GET That SHIRT?”
“Uh we made it” I said, confused. I was focused on sausage at the time, any distraction at that point would send me reeling.
“I love that site. It’s like crack to me.” she said.
Well, how could I do anything but beam at this point?
“Oh, well, I’m a writer for the correctness, I’m Tbinns.” I said, trying to sound humble and waiting for the wave of adulation that would surely follow.
“oooohhhh.” She said.
Now, let’s discuss that “Ohhhhh” for a moment, because the tone of this “Ohhhh” is important.
This was not “ooohhhhhh that’s so great.” Nor was it an “ooohhhh that makes sense why you’d have the shirt.” Or even “oooohhh I have seen the face of pure comedy at last, I am now complete as a human being.”
This was the kind of “oooohhh” that usually follows the sentence “My cat just died.” The kind of “ooohhh”that is traditionally followed by “That’s too bad” or “I’m sorry” or “ I guess we aren’t going to the zoo today and having ice cream.” It was a pungent and heady mix of sympathy and disappointment.
“I’m more of a Robbie Robtown girl.” She said.
And that was the end of that little trip to Egotown
I was chatting to her about how I too was a fan of Rob’s work , all the while basking in the irony that someone who sells giant sausage just emasculated me in that way. But she was a very pleasant girl (I think her name was Amanda) and we chatted a bit about Comic –con, and whether or not she would be inclined to purchase said shirt, and how she thinks she met Rob once but wasn’t sure…etc.
She took a break in her abject Rob worship long enough to sell me some sausage, we said our goodbye’s and said once again how much she enjoyed the blog.
Now, Rob, as you loyal readers know, is the only single member of the Correctness. This encounter with one of his ,I am assuming numerous, female fanbase got me thinking we should probably take advantage of his internet fame in the time honored way most people do, and at least try to hook a brother up.
That’s why I am officially announcing, without his knowledge or consent, the WIN A DREAM DATE WITH ROBBIE ROBTOWN CONTEST!
Don’t worry about the whole him not agreeing to this at all thing…Dave and I are bigger than he is, he’ll damn well do as he’s told.
The contest is open to anyone, even males (I think it’s time we broadened his horizons) to enter, just tell us what your dream date with Robbie Robtown might entail. Feel free to add poo jokes. He likes those. Contest Closes August 1st.
The winner gets a night out on the Robbie Robtown!
Oh, and unlike our previous contest, we will totally follow up and actually give out the prize. And by totally, we mean probably. And by probably we mean hopefully. And by hopefully we mean don’t hold your breath, but it might happen someday.
Good Luck…and thanks for the sausage Amanda.
(Please note contest not open to Rob’s family, or residents of Quebec. Although sex is implied it is not guaranteed, The Correctness is not to be held responsible if all he wants to do is cuddle and talk about his day)