Socks. My wife says to write about socks.
I have been sitting at my computer pouting like a little child for hours because I can’t think of what to write for my column that I am 95 per cent sure nobody reads.
She says that writing about something mundane is the best way to get over writer’s block. I would like to say that she is wrong but, other than the time she was foolish enough to marry me, she hasn’t been wrong. In fact, she reads all of my columns before they go to the editor. She doesn’t edit them so much as reads and says … “are you sure you wanna say that?” And then I reread it and most of the time I agree with her.
Every once in a while I push it and say YES! I want to say that! And then it goes to the editor who doesn’t let me. I don’t really have that little voice in my head that says, ‘Maybe don’t do that,’ so I am thankful for the lady in my life who keeps me safe.
Anyway, where was I? Right! Socks. I have a size 16 foot. This makes it almost impossible to find socks. I can turn your average pair of knee socks into ankle socks in one swift move. Fortunately for my feet, we now live in the future where stores make shoes my size. When I was a kid, most shoe stores in my small town had only one pair in my gigantic size. It’s hard to be a teenager and pick up a lady when you are wearing track pants with men’s brown wingtip loafers.
The other day I was in a shoe store and told the man my size. He brought out a box and I didn’t even check the size. I could barely get my toes in. I asked what size they were and he said 12. I repeated that I need a size 16 and he laughed and said he thought I said 12. When the next box came I wasn’t able to get my foot in the shoe either. I asked if they were 16 and the man said, “no” they were a 12-wide. I repeated my shoe size a third time and he said he didn’t know why he kept getting it wrong. He puttered off into the back, leaving me alone like a fat, Italian Cinderella waiting for her prince.
When I saw him coming back into the room he shouted “Got them!” And I called back: “The right size?” He said: “You bet! 12.” I left.
I often lie about my height. I am just around 6’7” but on my acting resume it says that I am 6’3”. People can’t comprehend 6’7” so I lie. One time I went for an audition for a commercial and as I waited in the production office I looked out over the sea of cubicles and all of a sudden a man popped out from the side of one. He was so short I didn’t even see him walking through the room. For a visual, please picture Gandalf and Frodo. I realized he didn’t expect me to be so tall and I knew right away I didn’t get the role. “How would you even look on film? Like … next to other people?”
Tall. I would look tall. You shrimp boat son of a bitch. Who says that to somebody?
“How would you look next to other people?” I’m next to other people RIGHT NOW you ass. How did I even end up talking about all this!? Oh right, socks. I guess my wife was right.
