Say Thank You For Me

I had a dream that I was being given an Oscar-type award last night. The whole nine yards: in a tux, red carpet, pre interviews, stars galore. I was up for some writing award like screenplay. I was not expecting to win in the dream, just happy to be there sort of thing. But I did win. I was shocked. My knees were shaking as I went past screen stars to get on stage. I was handed the award by none other than Matt Damon. I looked out at a huge audience and that is when it all hit me: the fighting, the alcoholism, the poverty, the dirty and torn clothes, the fleas, the inferiority, the paranoia, the basement with water and mildew and roots coming in from the walls, the sickness, the cirrhosis, the lack of respect, the prejudice, the surgery, the taunts, the late onset of puberty, the overall feeling small. And I couldn’t get a word out. I was trying but I got so choked up I knew that if a word was to slip I would sob uncontrollably…in front of them. I tried again but I knew again. They were waiting and it became uncomfortable in seconds. I motioned to Matt Damon to come over to me. I gathered everything I could and whispered to him through tears and choking “say thank you for me.”
So Matt Damon proceeds to the microphone and says “thank you for me.”
I burst out laughing and it all leaves my shoulders. The weight of the world…gone.
Best non-nocturnal emission dream I’ve ever had.

The Opposite of Michelob Commercials

I’m sorry what I said back there. I hope you don’t get your big brain going on that and think that I am, existentially unhappy, because that is not the case. I think it is a matter of perspective. Kinda like the old Michelob commercials, some days are better than others. And back there, when I said that stuff, I was not happy but if you back the lens out, say more existentially, of course I am happy…and grateful. Very appreciative of what I have. Maybe just that my lack of achievements get in the way some days. Like back there when I said that stuff I was thinking about my achievements, in comparison to others and let’s be honest, I come up short. Now please don’t get your big brain going on how this relates to you. You are not a loser like me just by association. Well again, loser is not in an existential sense, just in comparison to everyone we know. I mean sure we could take into account people that are more of a loser than me, like prisoners and terrorists but I think we both think we want to stay within the bounds of sensible and realistic. But again, being honest and thinking about the things others have done, it’s like I’m a trailer park in a neighborhood of mcmansions. Just sorta depressing…today…it’s getting to me today but I am again, very appreciative of everything I have, especially you. I don’t deserve you, especially after what I said back there, when I was having my opposite of a Michelob day. But that’s over with. I am done feeling sorry for myself because I am a loser. It’s like when Matt Damon and Greg Kinnear were afraid of everyone knowing that were conjoined twins and Eva Mendez said “don’t deny, embrace.” Well I am here now in front of you a new man, a man who is very appreciative of all the things he has, aware of all the things that matter in his life, even if he is a loser who has accomplished little to nothing in the big scheme of things. 

Zoo Volunteer

There is a volunteer at the local zoo who takes her Elephant Bath Q&A just a little too seriously. Sure, we all appreciate the fun fact now and again; who doesn’t want to know how much an elephant eats in a day? But sometimes you just want to watch without being berated with pachyderm trivia; even worse, when you see the bathing more than once, you are subject to all the same banalities from Lucy the elephant lover all over again. 

One can get past the pedantic details like “the elephant’s feces can weigh up to” blah blah blah, or “the elephant uses its trunk to sexually pleasure his/her mate” yadi yada, or “the trainers use the bath to bond with the elephants in much the same way we humans might use African drum music to bond”, and so on. One can get past this if one politely tunes her out with, with gun range strength headphones. 

This is not the worst part however; the worst part is her voice and accent. It is a cross between Adam Sandler’s Toll Booth Willie and Gilbert Godfried. Imagine trying to enjoy your zoo trip and the elephant bath with fun facts coming from the Aflac Duck in Boston-ese! I wanted desperately to enjoy the gig but I kept finding myself wanting to channel Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting and run up to her and say “what winds yah watch!?” 

Note to Zoo Management: audition your speakers. If she sounds like a villainous cartoon character from Southie, you might want to put her on shoveling elephant shit duty.