You know that Morton’s Steakhouse airport guy? You know, this guy? Well, instead of dinner, I’d just once like to be met at the airport by Jack White holding the leashes of a litter of Golden Retriever puppies and a glass of freshly squeezed, heavy pulp white grapefruit juice. As he drove me home (in an attention grabbing yet tasteful black sedan), we’d talk about Motown, public swimming pools and Whole Foods. When he dropped me off, he’d hand me the phone number of a male cast member* on Friday Night Lights.
Sometimes I wish people recognized their gratitude of “the everyday” via toast. For instance:
- To my Grandmama, who never hesitated to buy ridiculously priced school fundraising wrapping paper and the let me use it to wrap up random things in her house while I played “birthday party.”
- To Sarah McDonnell, without whose recommendation I’d have never known the jaw-droppingly close shave of the Schick Intuition razor.
- To that one guy who debated fruity vs. minty gum with me for over an hour in 1997…I’ll never look at Fruit Stripe without thinking of you and smiling.
- To Benjamin Franklin; I realize your accomplishments haven’t gone [historically] unnoticed, but I feel that the whole kite/key thing isn’t properly recognized in the 21st Century. Cheers, you!
*Any one of them. Sure, Taylor Kitsch is crazy hot but don’t you know dinner with Brad Leland would be a scream!