So, when I was in high school, John Green came to do a talk in Pittsburgh. My friend was a huge John Green fan, so she wanted me to come. The tickets were cheap, so I figured why not? I liked him on YouTube. It sounded fun enough.
Now, for a little background information, I’ve never read one of John Green’s books all the way through. I don’t think he’s a very good writer. Not bad, but not that good. His characters are pretentious and he thinks that makes them “smart” and his books seem to have the same plot. (I know he writes book for “smart” readers, but I’m an intelligent person. I never spoke like his stuffy characters in high school, and I probably never will unless I become a tenured professor.) We all know he’s only a super popular author because of his fanatical following from YouTube, but I digress.
After the actual talk that I remember little about, my friend and I went to the place where we could stand in line and get a book signed. Keep in mind the previous paragraph; I’ve never read any of his books. I don’t own any, and I know only the bare minimum plot of each one. So my friend hands me one of her books to get signed as her and her other friend’s “spy” names (I don’t know why) and I hold onto that as we wait in line.
Finally, it’s my turn to have “my” book signed.
John Green: “Who should I make this out to?”
Me: “Anna and Jane.”
John: “Are you Anna or Jane?”
Me: “Uh… neither. This isn’t my book, and Anna and Jane aren’t real people.”
John: *Stares* “Alright…” *Signs the book*
And that is John Green’s first and only impression of me. If you’re reading this, John, and you remember this, I want to clear my name and say that I’m not the crazy one, my friend Mary is. Also, I like Hank better (no offense).