Tom Hanks. Prom Hanks. Blarg.

I am so sad at this moment.

So the place that I am a volunteer tutor at? The one through which I did the mustache-a-thon with Adrienne? They are hosting a dance of some sort. A fundraising thingy. And they themed it. The theme? Prom Hanks.

Prom.













Hanks.

And despite the fact that I want to take that name to the nearest courthouse and have a civil ceremony with it...I can't go. I've known I can't go for a while because I've known about it for a while and known that it was this weekend, where I am going to go see Michelle. Which is still great, and I am totally looking forward to. I was just going to chalk it up as "Huh. Cute name. Oh well. I don't really know any of the other tutors anyway." and I was prepared to move on. Even if my guy-friend crush was going to be there. I had made my peace with it.

But I just found out that the real Tom Hanks found out about the dance and he sent a bunch of signed things for a silent auction, including a signed Wilson volleyball.


(this isn't the ball, but it's the only proof they sent me that it's true)

There are tears welling up in my eyes right now and I wish I was joking.

Pop quiz: When I watched Cast Away and Steel Magnolias in one day, which part did I cry at?
A) Julia Roberts dying, or
B) Wilson floating away?

I will give you one guess. Hint, it's not a.

My Facebook profile lists "Tom Hanks" as one of my favorite movies. Tom Hanks is...he's more than an adopted uncle. He is an adopted stepfather. But the kind of stepfather that you grow to love as a member of your own flesh-and-blood. He is the Liam Neeson to my Creepy Blonde Kid from Love Actually. This is who Tom Hanks is to me. When Tom Hanks is sad, I am sad. When Tom Hanks has a Russian accent, I have a Russian accent. When Tom Hanks wants to write, direct, and star in a movie, I want to give him a bear hug and thank him for bringing Steve Zahn into my world.

Okay, I need to pull myself together. I really am going to have a great weekend with Michelle. And who's to say I could have afforded any of the silent auction things? Plus, you all know how it would have ended. It would have been me rushing over to the table of Tom Hanks memorabilia like a kid who is told they can have anything they want from the candy counter. They would end up dragging me away because I was rubbing my face against all the items, And I would be reaching toward the signed volleyball screaming "WILSOOOOOOOOOON!!! WILL!!!! SONNNNNNNNNN!!! WAAAALT--i mean--WILSONNNNN!!!!!"

It's better this way.