Dear Aziz Ansari (or Aziz I'm Sorry as my mother referred to you the other day when she called to tell me that comedian I like was on some talk show),
I'm a really big fan of yours, but I'm afraid I'm not a very good fan. There are a couple of reasons why this may be true:
So, in March you announced that you'd be selling your special Dangerously Delicious on your website for $5. I was excited, but seeing as how work and I have not been friends for the last six months and I'd just promised the government my first born in some sort of tax deal (don't get me started on being self-employed in this country), I had a really hard time justifying spending even $5 on something that wasn't, you know, gas or rent. I felt guilty for this! I did! It was such a great price! I wanted to support you and become the proud viewer of what I'm sure is an hour (or more? or less?) of some of the most hilarious words ever said by anyone on Earth ever. "Next week" I'd tell myself, but next week never came. (Mostly, because I kind of forgot. So sorry again...)
A few weeks ago, I had a birthday, and every plan I made to celebrate my birthday fell through for one reason or another. I had to cancel trips and concerts and my parents' dog even ate my key lime pie. But that's a story for another day (or today if you're really bored and want to scroll down a bit). So, I'm standing in line at Publix on the day of my actual birthday, and I'm browsing Facebook, and I see that you are going to be doing a show in Atlanta this summer. Instead of putting my groceries on the counter, I pulled off to the side of the register, and I began to try to figure out how to get tickets. Immediately, I read the words "sold out." Seriously? I am not at all surprised that you sold out your Atlanta show but to find that out on my birthday was a real bummer. I slumped down against the rack of magazines, ripped open a king size bag of Peanut M&Ms and began to cry. (Well, not really, but that would have been kind of funny, right? And then when someone asked me what was wrong, I could have wailed, "I'm never going to see Aziz Ansari make jokes agaaaaaaaaaaaaaaain," and you may have gotten some publicity from it, and I would have gotten some M&Ms. Win-win for everyone)
So, last Saturday night (bear with me, I'm getting to a point), I came home from I don't remember where and found that I had accidentally left my refrigerator door open when I left the house that morning. After throwing out over $100 of ruined carb-free foods, I hopped into bed and checked Facebook. A friend of mine had posted on my wall that you would finally have a new special on Comedy Central the next night.
This would be the most fabulous news I've heard all month, I thought, if I hadn't just canceled my freaking cable THE WEEK BEFORE.. Damn you, Comcast, and your overinflated fees!
Then again, I'm not sure why I was surprised. My life seems to be full of these sort of ironic moments lately. Whether it's spending $100 on lean meats and green vegetables so you can shave off a few pounds before your upcoming beach vacation, only to accidentally leave your refrigerator door open and ruin all of it, or waiting not-so-patiently for your favorite comedian to have a special on Comedy Central and canceling your cable the week before it finally happens, there is some sort of unwritten law for my life. Some say I've crossed too many black cats or walked under one too many ladders in my lifetime, but I prefer to think that my life is one of God's favorite Must-See TV sitcoms. (I mean, my life is not Friends or Seinfeld funny, but I'd like to think I can at least pull off Grace Adler.)
Now, I realize that you probably do not care about any of this, and really, I'm not sure why I felt the need to tell you. I guess I just wanted you to know that one of your fans sucks at her job, but she is not going to quit like she did a few of the other things she's tried and sucked at over the last decade (this ranges from working as a teacher to playing the guitar to being a Ja Rule fan, but let's face it, that last one was warranted). She is going to pick herself back up by the bootstraps - whatever that means, stop referring to herself in third person, and go buy Dangerously Delicious so she'll have something great to watch during her upcoming family vacation while everyone else is sitting in the living room watching something horrible like soccer. Afterwards, she will most likely follow her gay cousin around and repeat your jokes 9,839 times until he finally agrees to watch the YouTube clips of your last special that she emailed him about a year ago.
Yours Truly,
Sarah
P.S. In case anyone is reading this who is not Aziz Ansari (because you know he's totally going to read this), you can buy Dangerously Delicious for a mere $5 at Azizansari.com. Do it now before his people realize this is a ridiculously low price.
I'm a really big fan of yours, but I'm afraid I'm not a very good fan. There are a couple of reasons why this may be true:
- Now that I'm 30, being a "big fan" of anyone incites images of middle-aged women dressing up in 80's gear, dumping their poor kids off with their husbands, and following Bon Jovi or the New Kids on the Block around the country as they attempt to relive their glory days while depleting their 401Ks. I don't want to be those ladies. I don't want to become the nondescript chubby old white chick with the bad perm and collection of knit shirts who sits in the audience and screams "I love you" when you or anyone else appears on the set of Live with
Regis andKelly or The Tonight Show. You know who I'm talking about; sometimes the host will even allow said chick to come up and hug the person shesadoredsinceshewassixteenohmygawdistillhaveyourpostersonmywallandmyhusbandtotallysaidicouldsleepwithyouiftheopportunityeverpresenteditself. How those women can continue to think life is worth living after making such a fool of themselves is beyond me.
- I just don't have time. This probably goes back to the 30 thing, but I'm a grow-up now. Sure, I'm not exactly gainfully employed right now, and I'm not married and don't have kids or anything, but it seems like I should be spending my time doing grown-upish things instead of idolizing someone I don't know. A couple of years ago, I declared myself a "big fan" of another comedian/comedic actor (I'll leave out his name so you don't get jealous or anything), and while I still enjoy him immensely, I've had the hardest time trying to keep up with his career. I was in a store the other day and saw a DVD with his picture on it, and I thought to myself, when did this movie come out? How can I be such a big fan of someone and not know they had a whole movie come out on DVD? This saddens me greatly, because when I was a kid, I could provide anyone who asked with a daily run-down on my favorite baseball players' ERA, batting average, and favorite flavor of ice cream. Fun fact: I didn't even know you were on Parks and Recreation until I accidentally caught an episode after The Office a few weeks ago. (Sorry...)
So, in March you announced that you'd be selling your special Dangerously Delicious on your website for $5. I was excited, but seeing as how work and I have not been friends for the last six months and I'd just promised the government my first born in some sort of tax deal (don't get me started on being self-employed in this country), I had a really hard time justifying spending even $5 on something that wasn't, you know, gas or rent. I felt guilty for this! I did! It was such a great price! I wanted to support you and become the proud viewer of what I'm sure is an hour (or more? or less?) of some of the most hilarious words ever said by anyone on Earth ever. "Next week" I'd tell myself, but next week never came. (Mostly, because I kind of forgot. So sorry again...)
A few weeks ago, I had a birthday, and every plan I made to celebrate my birthday fell through for one reason or another. I had to cancel trips and concerts and my parents' dog even ate my key lime pie. But that's a story for another day (or today if you're really bored and want to scroll down a bit). So, I'm standing in line at Publix on the day of my actual birthday, and I'm browsing Facebook, and I see that you are going to be doing a show in Atlanta this summer. Instead of putting my groceries on the counter, I pulled off to the side of the register, and I began to try to figure out how to get tickets. Immediately, I read the words "sold out." Seriously? I am not at all surprised that you sold out your Atlanta show but to find that out on my birthday was a real bummer. I slumped down against the rack of magazines, ripped open a king size bag of Peanut M&Ms and began to cry. (Well, not really, but that would have been kind of funny, right? And then when someone asked me what was wrong, I could have wailed, "I'm never going to see Aziz Ansari make jokes agaaaaaaaaaaaaaaain," and you may have gotten some publicity from it, and I would have gotten some M&Ms. Win-win for everyone)
So, last Saturday night (bear with me, I'm getting to a point), I came home from I don't remember where and found that I had accidentally left my refrigerator door open when I left the house that morning. After throwing out over $100 of ruined carb-free foods, I hopped into bed and checked Facebook. A friend of mine had posted on my wall that you would finally have a new special on Comedy Central the next night.
This would be the most fabulous news I've heard all month, I thought, if I hadn't just canceled my freaking cable THE WEEK BEFORE.. Damn you, Comcast, and your overinflated fees!
Then again, I'm not sure why I was surprised. My life seems to be full of these sort of ironic moments lately. Whether it's spending $100 on lean meats and green vegetables so you can shave off a few pounds before your upcoming beach vacation, only to accidentally leave your refrigerator door open and ruin all of it, or waiting not-so-patiently for your favorite comedian to have a special on Comedy Central and canceling your cable the week before it finally happens, there is some sort of unwritten law for my life. Some say I've crossed too many black cats or walked under one too many ladders in my lifetime, but I prefer to think that my life is one of God's favorite Must-See TV sitcoms. (I mean, my life is not Friends or Seinfeld funny, but I'd like to think I can at least pull off Grace Adler.)
Now, I realize that you probably do not care about any of this, and really, I'm not sure why I felt the need to tell you. I guess I just wanted you to know that one of your fans sucks at her job, but she is not going to quit like she did a few of the other things she's tried and sucked at over the last decade (this ranges from working as a teacher to playing the guitar to being a Ja Rule fan, but let's face it, that last one was warranted). She is going to pick herself back up by the bootstraps - whatever that means, stop referring to herself in third person, and go buy Dangerously Delicious so she'll have something great to watch during her upcoming family vacation while everyone else is sitting in the living room watching something horrible like soccer. Afterwards, she will most likely follow her gay cousin around and repeat your jokes 9,839 times until he finally agrees to watch the YouTube clips of your last special that she emailed him about a year ago.
Yours Truly,
Sarah
P.S. In case anyone is reading this who is not Aziz Ansari (because you know he's totally going to read this), you can buy Dangerously Delicious for a mere $5 at Azizansari.com. Do it now before his people realize this is a ridiculously low price.
No comments:
Post a Comment