A whole bucketful of awesome. |
This page is, in fact, an overflowing bucketful of awesome, but I didn't want to brag too much. |
Have I ever explained how I play catch with Uncle Rico?
The above illustrates my life. It’s so perfect, I had to share.
I knew, even as a child, that I was a supporting actor. Every race I ran, I came in second. No joke. First the whole way, until those last 20 feet, when the true winner, inspired my my crazy-fast pace, would kick it up a notch because he refused to lose to a girl.
As a child I dreamed of awarding winners at the Oscars. Not winning an Oscar, mind you— but announcing the winners.
Go back and watch those movies from the ’80s. There is the hot chick that all the dudes desire— and then there is the snarky, best friend wearing the hat, and her name almost always is “Tracy” (spelled wrong, even). I am that hat-wearing friend.
Of course you’ve probably forgotten about that character— even though she’s in every movie. She’s annoying. She’s kind of boyish. She always ends up shrugging in the background and running off with some guy who is too geeky for the leading actress.
She is me. She is every moment of my whole life.
Yesterday I made an offhand joke for tumblrites on twitter. It spawned other, funnier jokes. But you see the progression? Nobody will know— or remember— where the joke started, they’ll only know that something funny happened in the end.
Why am I telling you this? Because you need to know.
You can’t have lame ’80s movies without the quirky girlfriend. You can’t have races without a second place finisher. Somebody has to be that awesome. And see, I while I am not at the top, I’ve accepted that I can’t ever be at the top. My life is— by the design of the gods—to be sitting on the sidelines with Uncle Rico.
You can’t ignore me either, Michael, your wife who appears rarely in the film, while you stare at your lover’s boiling rabbit in the pot. I’m the one who gives you the idea to go on the journey where you fall in love with the hero. I’m the one who makes the offhand comment over fries and a coke in the hospital cafeteria, which is the clue that unravels the deeper mystery.
Yes. I may be small and hat wearing and quirky, and my jokes may be mere echoes in the distance… But let’s face it: You can’t move the plot forward without me.
Awesome.
