It’s Sunday morning; I slept in til 11, made myself some coffee, and sat down to read up on some news. What I ended up reading up on instead were the 11 emails of Facebook notifications from one super-pissed, kind-of famous person who, it would appear, had a mental breakdown on my fan page.

Let’s start at the beginning: Last week, I decided I should stop ignoring Twitter. To be honest, limiting my jokes to 160 characters is almost impossible for me, which makes me respect hilarious tweeters like @meganamram and @damienfahey that much more. I hopped on there, tweeted a little bit about what I was watching on ESPN, and perused the twitterverse. Lo and behold, Entourage star and former crush-of-my-life Kevin Connolly had just tweeted something about hockey. It was as if a cupcake tweeted that it was also willing and able to give me oral sex. I was intrigued.

I tweeted some sort of carefully-worded combination of smack talk and compliment at him, and 2 minutes later I had a message in my inbox:

Wooahhh. Maybe I’ve given you the impression that I’m one of those people who keeps it totally cool when they meet and/or talk to a celebrity, but I’m not. I’m the person who screen-caps it and posts it on social media, as if it makes me any cooler of a person (hint: it doesn’t). So I did that; I posted this pic on my fan page, along with some sarcastically corny caption about whether or not this means Kevin’s in my Entourage now. 

12 people “liked” it, a few commented that they miss Entourage, but most made jokes about Kevin’s excessive exclamation points and weak first line. I chimed in that we were having a full-blown conversation in Twitter messages (at that point, we were), and also that people can judge him for being short all they want - I like short guys and was obsessed with the movie John Q because of this one in particular.

Over the next few days, I would tweet things and Kevin would respond to them in a private message. Which I thought was weird, but also I have no idea what famous people deal with in terms of what they can and can’t do, so whatever. One day, the hashtag #MentionYourCutestFollower was trending. I named a few, one of which was Kevin, who I said I had always had a crush on. He immediately sent me a message:

[It’s important to note that at this point I was fully convinced this person wasn’t Kevin Connolly, regardless of the fact that the account was “verified.” There’s just no way someone I used to watch on TV would come at me with a “I have a crush on you too exclamationpointexclamationpointexclamationpoint.” Just no way.]

I’m leaving in all my embarrassingly flirtatious replies to both keep this story authentic and also drive the point home that I have zero game. Like, none at all. Especially on the internet, where it’s almost impossible to grab a guy’s balls.

So okay back to the sequence of events. This all went down, as you can see, on May 28th. After that we pretty much stopped awkwardly messaging each other, which I was cool with because trying to fit your already awkward flirts into 160 characters was like the olympics of things that are difficult for me and I was getting some serious agita.

Fast forward to last night. I’m comfortable admitting I spent a Saturday night as a 25-year-old sitting on my couch drinking fun-flavored beers and catching up on Game of Thrones. My phone starts blowing up, which, mind you, is not a normal thing for it to do. So I check it and have 3 emails that say “Kevin Connolly commented on Katie Nolan’s photo.” [Note: The best thing about having a fan page is that all your emails talk to you in the third person. Whenever they tell me something shitty, I just think “Ha. Sucks for that girl.” Which will inevitably cause a personality disorder, but right now it’s amusing.]

For the sake of forming your own opinion, here are the comments left on the photo up until now:

And now here’s Kevin’s Saturday evening response:

Okay. So at this point, I’m both A) baffled, and B) flashing back to middle school when the word “argument” just meant yelling loudly at someone’s face until one of you got too tired to continue. I head to Twitter to send him a message, but it turns out he’s unfollowed me, and therefore I can’t. So I tweet:

Not because I expect anyone to be looking at a photo on my Facebook page from a week ago and know what I’m talking about, but because I know if you poke a person with irrational anger issues with a stick, they’ll snap. Case in point, he sends this message:

I tried to respond to that last one, and not only had he unfollowed me again, but now I was blocked. *gasp* What in the world will I do without knowing what he’s not doing with his life every day?

Up until now I was operating under the “try to be a little Switzerland about all this because god only knows where your life is going or may go and if Kevin Connolly disliking you could one day affect things then you’re going to be really pissed at yourself” attitude. This is the moment where I realized that attitude could go fuck itself.

He then sent me a message on my FB page (so, yes, if you’re keeping score: He responded to tweets in private messages, blocked me from sending those, commented on my facebook page, and responded to my comments in facebook messages..)

Here’s the point where I went to bed. Well, actually, here’s the point where I sent out like 16 tweets hastagged #inoffensivetweet because I’m sick of people who don’t understand comedy. For example: me pasting a screenshot of you messaging me and asking if that means you’re in my entourage: joke. You taking the time to go to someone’s personal facebook page, find a picture of their wife, and call her a beast: mean. And kind of pathological.

Anyway, 6 hours of sleep later, here are all of the things I wake up to:

On the photo of his tweet..

In my inbox..

“Stick to insulting people to feel better about yourself… And you’re ugly.” I honestly couldn’t have written that any funnier. The guy might be a genius.

But, more likely, he’s crazy pants. So I sent a quick little 

And there you have it. The anatomy of a psychological breakdown. Why post this? Because it’s important to remember that celebrities are just normal people who have money. Some are probably cool as hell, some are boring as shit, and some have serious mental issues that cause them to stomp their feet and cry really loudly when someone says anything not nice to them because they’ve been in show business since they were 6  and no one ever taught them how to handle the word “no.”

And also because making people laugh is my job now, and what the fuck isn’t funny about what just happened here.