Last night, Toby Joe and I sat down to watch the Daily Show. Jon Stewart has been away or whatever for a week. Contrary to all the rumors, we were NOT away together. I was in Rhode Island. He was probably someplace like India. Anyway, it was funny as usual. But there was this one part…
You see, several months ago I printed a bunch of t-shirts featuring Monica Lewinsky as herself sucking on the Pinocchio nose of G W Bush. You may or may not have heard of them. Anyway, last night Jon Stewart said that “Lake George” (aka New Orleans) was GW Bush’s Monica Lewinsky (and apparently Jon Stewart has become my Nicole Kidman). He continued making the comedic point for quite few minutes. And before I could throw a mere peep in Toby’s direction, my phone was ringing.
It was Gina
– my sweet Gina – calling all the way from Detroit.
GINA! Are you watching The Daily Show?
I am! And your shirts are going to sell like crazy now!
You’d think! I can’t belive he’s bringing that up now!
You should totally send him one tomorrow. Or, hell, just walk it to him.
Oh my god! I should totally send him one!
[Lightbulb illuminates Greenpoint]
We talked for a few more minutes about a few of her friends from New Orleans who are in need of some assistance. (An aside, I love Gina. She has a kind heart.)
Years ago, when I was 6 or 7, I wanted to win the Michael Jackson sparkly glove. This is what I looked like (without the eggs of course) and this was the wallpaper I stared at while on the phone:
I sat on the phone for hours trying to win that damn thing from some radio station out of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Why a Harrisburg radio station had THE MJ glove to give away is beyond me. I never questioned authority back then. I, of course, did not win. I didn’t even get past a busy signal except for that one time I misdialed. This was before redial, so my fingers did the walking. In retrospect, had I actually gotten through, I’d have had to still answer a question as to what song was playing after hearing a mere thought of a musical note and that would have been comical at best. Only after answering correct would I then move on into the final round. And even then said group was hit with another, harder question. I was 7 so that’d have been interesting. But I never got that far. I was completely silenced by a mere busy signal.
What’s my point? My point is that winning that Michael Jackson sparkly glove was really hard if not downright impossible for me. Finding a way to get this damn t-shirt to Jon Stewart has become my new Michael Jackson Sparkly Glove only sans the phone lines and without all the wallpaper. It occurred to me last night while chatting with Mrs. Gina; I simply must do this. That’s all there is to it.
This morning I wrote a letter to Comedy Central (yes, an actual letter). I also copied down every New York City address I could find. The Daily Show’s doors open between 5:30 and 5:40 and I have contemplated getting my psychopath on and heading over there this afternoon. In the meantime, I will send one to the Comedy Central Headquarters and try and drop one off at their Broadway office, too.
Today, I am armed with six t-shirts. And it might seem silly but God dammit, I am still really worked up over not winning MJ’s sparkly glove.
So bring it on, folks, tease me endlessly, tease me ruthlessly. I can totally take it. Make me callous so I can handle the impending rejection.