But I have read a lot of stuff. If something interests me in the slightest, I usually never forget it. This explains why I'm so bad remembering the names of people I have met dozens of times and birthdays for family members and friends. I have countless little facts stored in my head about science and astronomy and comic books and movies. It's like autism, except I'm an asshole and I drink too much.
That being said, my Sundays are religiously spent on my couch to catch the latest episode of Cosmos hosted by the amazing Neil deGrasse Tyson because he talks about space and science and I like things like that.
If the topics discussed on this show were in some kind of basketball bracket office-pool thingy (I don't sports) then I would be at a 90% success rate of already knowing the basics about them at this point.
I can't name all 50 states. I barely understand how laws are made, even though I know I watched that cartoon about it when I was a kid. And, gun to my head, I would never ever be able to say the alphabet backwards unless I wrote it down first.
With all of that in mind, I am able to access and vomit up these random facts no one cares about at any point in the day, without fail. The only caveat being that I turn into a drooling lobotomy patient if someone asks me about something I know without warning. If I'm playing 6 Degrees of Separation and I'm working on John Malkovich to Macaulay Culkin, I'll be trucking along just fine and then someone randomly says 'Hey, what's the name of the actor who played Magneto in the new X-Men movie?'. You'll then need to give my brain fifteen seconds to rewire itself to that part of storage. Any other time I can spout it off no problem. Michael Fassbender. Sexy man. Great actor. Can't wait to meet him.
I'm rambling, so let's get on to the embarrassing part of my story.
Cosmos. Awesome show. Awesome host. I have always wanted to attend one of his appearances, but since they go for a hundred bucks or more and I don't even let myself buy brand name toilet paper, that's never going to happen.
So lucky me, I am strolling through some department store downtown, looking for cheap luggage (I think it was a TJ-Maxx, I'm fancy.) when I round the corner near housewares and almost head-butt Neil deGrasse Tyson in the chest. I'm not tall but I'm not that short.
The lizard part of my brain that is apparently from Canada instantly makes my mouth mutter a quick apology and I start to step around the man, when the semi-smart part of my brain says 'Dude, dude, dude, dude, DUDE!' and I say 'What?!' except I say the last part out loud and Neil steps back a foot or two, eyebrows raised and probably figuring out which Paula Deen frying pan to brain me with (that would be hilarious) if things get hairy.
Thankfully, since I've met literally DOZENS of famous people, I regain my composure fairly quick and manage to let out an actual apology for almost smearing my face across his suit. He waves it off, no big deal and asks how I'm doing. He seems so friendly and warm, his voice a comforting blanket coaxing me to let my guard down and say something ultra-tarded.
It does not fail.
"Cosmos. Space. Time. Timey wimey. Odd." These words fall out of my face before I can do anything to stop it. Neil doesn't respond at first. "Good stuff. I'm fan. Big one. Yep." That was a good finish to an awesome start. Neil nods. He gets me. It's cool.
"You like the show then?" He's allowing me the chance to make up for my face-hole noises. Nice guy. Should have walked away when he got the chance.
"Oh yeah. Like. Every day. Every Sunday, I mean. Unless I watched the show over and over again throughout the week. That would be weird. I don't. That's not me. That's not what I'm about."
Boom. Nailed it. My lizard brain and semi-smart brain are high-fiving the shit out of each other and my stomach brain decides now is a great time to tell me that we needed a toilet four minutes ago.
I will not be deterred.
"But yes. Sunday night. Me and the wife. We do. I explain things to her. Sometimes. She's not stupid. She's just... she like things. Other things. Twilight. I know, right? Horrible. I read too. Books. We have a bunch of books. I hang them on the wall sometimes. Made them into shelves. Shelves out of books. I've read a lot of them. I really have."
 |
| You can read? |
Neil smiles and I'm pretty sure it was genuine. "Well, it's always nice to meet a fan. You have a good day now, Nate."
"Thanks, Neil. You as well, wait... Do you know me?"
"Nope." Neil looks me right in the eyes and backs out of the aisle, disappearing around the corner.
A split second later the fire alarm goes off and I run to the exit, scanning the crowd for a tall, dark genius.
I never saw him again.
And that was the third worst day of my life.
**EDIT**
Macaulay Culkin to Eliza Dushku to Matt Damon to Brad Pitt to John Malkovich.
If anyone can do it better, I really don't give a shit.
**EDIT**
Macaulay Culkin to Eliza Dushku to Matt Damon to Brad Pitt to John Malkovich.
If anyone can do it better, I really don't give a shit.
