Here comes the… dope with the gift…

I like to think that some of these My Sides shine a light on things you haven't thought about in a while. I like to think that some of these My Sides are even funny. I like to think that some of these My Sides inform.

… I like to think so.

This time, though, I'm just bullshitten'.

I realized today that I hate being an actor. Yes, I just realized it. No, I haven't realized it about a thousand times already!

… let me start again.

I realized today another reason why I hate being an actor. I hate it because I realize I've become another phoney.

Here's the thing. I'm going to a wedding soon for a person who, I just realized, I don't really like an awful lot, who isn't a really good friend, and who probably only invited me for the gift. And I realized all this while I was out buying the gift!!

Used to be, when I was just a writer, that I could just blow someone off whenever I didn't want to do something (have I mentioned I'm divorced?) but now, now that I'm an actor, I can't. Acting is such a social activity, I have to worry about what people are going to say, how it will affect future opportunities, and other shit like that.

Okay, so, fine. I go. It'll be short - relatively painless - and I probably won't run into my "friend" too much anyway. I'll run into friends of my "friend", all of whom are also actors, which basically means they think they're incredibly entertaining but are actually dull as hell and full of shit.

Now, when Vicky reads this, she's going to send me an email or call me right away and say, "Are you stupid?! What if someone reads this?!" Ha. So what. There's only one person who will probably read this and that person is Stephanie, who should be there with her husband, Tony. I mention them because they don't fall into that "actor" crowd. They're actually nice folk and part of the reason I'm writing this is because, should she read it, I'll know she will commiserate. It'll be an evening of people telling you about their shows, trying to get you to see their shows, or asking (or worse, not asking) you to be in their shows. She knows it. I know it.

See, actors don't impress me much. Their job is to be empty-headed. Short of entertaining, they don't do much of importance. Now, get me a room full of writers and I'm there. Writers are thinkers. They don't just entertain - they perform virgin birth!

… Sadly, I don't know a room full of writers.

… Oh, wait. I do. It's called OCPA.

… Forget what I just wrote.

Anyway, there's another reason for writing this.

So, I'm at Target, looking at a gift registry, and can't help but notice that gift registries suck. They are all based on the idea, "Hell, someone might buy it - Put It On The List!!!" So, you see the dumbest shit ever on these things, shit people would never use. Oh, sure, if they were stranded on a desert island - MAYBE they might find some use for these things but COME ON! Who the hell NEEDS a miniature deep fryer?!?!

… but enough of that.

So, I get the stuff - and, yes, I'm intentionally leaving out the ordinary horrors of Target OF WHICH THERE ARE MANY! - and I go up to the line.

The checker, an elderly man of recent import, says, "Velcome to Tahget. Would you like to apply for a Tahget Visa ant git a fwee gift vit parchase?"

I'm looking down at my check, writing it. "No."

"The application is bery shawt."

"No. What's today's date."

"Da Visa cart is bery confeenent."

Obviously, someone decided they should push the Visa cards… and I can't help but ask. "What's the free gift?"

"A sickteen ounz bottle of ice code Coke."

… I actually had to breath for a minute. "You've got to be kidding."

"You dun want it?"

"You free gift is a Coke? That's supposed to make me want to apply for your Visa card?"

"Yes, sah. It is."

I replied and, it must have been the look in my eyes, he dropped it. "No. What's today's date."

"Twun-ninth."

I wrote my check, remembering the days when they gave stereos with Visa cards… but then, this was Target.

I hate weddings (he wrote, giving his audience whiplash). They are the most incredibly dull events next to children's birthday parties ever invented by mankind. When mine comes around, I promise you not to register for stupid shit (can't speak for Vicky) and to keep it short - so we can get to the important part… the drinking.