My brother, who is a Very Important Person, and his family came to town last week. Before they arrived, he and I exchanged some emails, making plans for while he was here and setting up a night for my husband, the restaurant owner and cook extraordinaire, to whip up something special for dinner.
My brother had a few requests, like having me buy Nayonaise, getting eggs hatched from chickens that listened to Johnny Mathis at least 18 hours a day and not serving fish with a high mercury content. Also, all foods had to be either organically grown in my 1/10th of an acre backyard or killed by hand by a member of our immediate family while wearing a babushka. Just kidding. Except for the mercury issue. He had high levels of it in his blood, just like Jeremy Piven did. Too much line caught, environmentally sustainable sushi.
(Love you Bro.)
He emailed me prior to getting to my house to also tell me that he had a special gift for my daughter, his niece, which I thought was really nice though it wasn’t her birthday and Hanukah had already passed. And I was hoping that my son and my stepdaughter wouldn’t get too jealous about her being singled out. The last person I was concerned about was myself.
The first night my brother was here, he brought out the gift for my daughter. It was a personalized autograph from his friend, the stand-up comedian Dana Carvey. The former Saturday Night Live cast member who created the Church Lady, did so many dead-on political impersonations and was heavy metal rocker Garth from Wayne’s World. The list of his accomplishments goes on. And probably, at the top of that list, is that he’s a friend of my brother’s.
But Carvey is known to my kids as Pistachio Disguisey from the 2002 movie Master of Disguise. A movie that he co-wrote and starred in. We own the movie on VHS and have watched it so many times that I am surprised the tape has not been worn out. The kids love the movie and can spout lines from many different scenes. So can I. This is why I am a little upset that the autograph was for my daughter. And I want to try to have Dana Carvey rectify that. So I wrote the following plea to him. We’ll see what happens.
Plea to Dana Carvey
Oh Dana Carvey
My big brother made a big mistake
He asked you for your autograph for my daughter, but not for me
But I’m the one who let her watch Master of Disguise
And I watched it with her
Each and every time
And enjoyed it more and more with each “Who’s your Daddy?”
Lines from the movie have become part of my vernacular
“So crazy, it just might work” refers to my current, and second, marriage
“Are you mocking me boy?” is what I say to my son when he back-talks me
“This is what you’re doing. This is what I want you to do” is what I say to anybody who just won’t shut up
My daughter doesn’t know you from your SNL and Wayne’s World days
She’s only 10
I do, though
I was there when you did your impersonations of George H.W. Bush
And though she goes to church and I go to temple
She has no idea who “The Church Lady” is
If that’s not special, I don’t know what is
She did recognize the Tush Girl as the mom on Wizards of Waverly Place
But so did I
I won’t stalk you
I don’t know where you live
But I’ll bug my brother every day for the rest of his life
There might be a trickle down effect
He knows where to find you
And he can be annoyingly persistent
So, please send me my own personalized autograph
You can make it out to Jen or even to Lips, my nickname in college
I will be eagerly checking the mailbox every day
And if the mailman doesn’t bring this to me
Then your silence will only serve for me to search the world
For the rest of my days
For the answer to this question:
“Why am I not turtley enough for the Turtle Club?”