Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

I looked over at him in disbelief as my thumb felt its way across the buttons of my remote control.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked.
"Most definitely." He said with a warm smile.

With my thumb in position, a deep breath, and another quick glance at him, I hit play, thus initiating the familiar eagle cry followed by the oh-so-familiar theme song. I looked over at him again, still in shock, as I took in the grandness of what was happening to me at that very moment: After a nice family dinner, I was watching The Colbert Report with Stephen Colbert.

It's a strange thing, watching someone you usually watch every night...with the person you are usually watching. He's usually behind a screen, in a studio...and most definitely not in my bedroom. But there he was, suit, rimless eyeglasses, gelled hair and all, looking up at the TV, deeply concentrated on the report he was giving on New England seafood. And there I was sitting at my desk, watching him, well...watching himself.

"I get misquoted all the time," He said, breaking the silence.
"Huh?" I said, as I was clearly caught off guard.
"The media...you see what I said right there, some newscasters cut off that whole end bit in a segment they did about me last week."
"Oh. yeah." I said, still a little confused. "You must Google yourself all the time then, huh?"
"Oh yeah, we all do it."

The conversation carried on like this for a while, and as I listened to what he had to say about his job and his day to day life, I smiled and nodded. It was great having a conversation with him and all, but let's face it, I'm a pretty modern aged thinker, and because of that, I had only one thing in mind. One burning desire. Something anyone in my position would want to do: I had to write a tweet about what was happening to me. Nothing long or descriptive, that would be saved for a blog post. Just something short, sweet, and clever. I continued to listen to him talk as my mind blazed at a hundred miles per hour, I leaned back toward my desk, trying to hide the fact that I was reaching for a pen and paper, and as he turned away, I scrambled to write some words down, stopping and looking very casual whenever he'd turn back to me. Eventually, I was able to write something half-decent and once I got that out of the way and was completely relaxed with my new friend, the conversation turned serious as we decided to engage in a good old round of "Would You Rather".

"So  Stephen," I said and leaned back in my chair in confidence. I was having a conversation with one of the world's greatest comedians/TV personalities, and I was about to ask him the best question he was ever going to be asked.

"Would you rather date yourself, or Jon Stewart?"

And before I could get an answer or could even gage his facial reaction...

...

I woke up.