Delusions of grandeur have never been difficult for me. In fact, if I may be so bold, they come rather naturally to me. By circumstance or design, my ability to daydream knows no bounds.
Even though doctors and sophomores in psychology might have technical terms for my condition, maybe even prescriptions too, these are not social groups of which I am in contact with. Besides, this is meant more for entertainment, not diagnosis.
Like most, my daydreams of greatness have a wide range. I’ve won the Super Bowl, twice. Once as the quarterback, the other as the kicker, but both times of course I was the hero — I also played for the Jets.
Like actor Viggo Mortensen in the film “Vanishing Point,” I’ve even run from the cops in high-speed chases across remote desert highways. Unlike Viggo however, I operated a blue 1972 Buick Skylark.
In other moments of escape I have even been interviewed by morning talk shows like NBC’s “Today,” as well the most prominent of late night shows like “The O’Reilly Factor” and “The Daily Show.” I’ve even received the “Colbert Bump.”
These are of course all in my mind. It would be just as difficult for me to try and describe my first experience of having a daydream, but like the air we breathe, the stimulants needed are all around us, and I take in as much as I can. I’m like a houseplant. Daydreaming is my photosynthesis.
My most recent bout with the land of make-believe took place while shopping for groceries. For you fellow creative types, underestimating the power of creative ideas in your local market would be a grave mistake. Each isle comes with its own level of intrigue and surprise, and even though most are labeled, you’ll never know what you might discover.
For me, what has now manifested to near epic proportions came from the tabloids while waiting in line to check out. First, I began to wonder what they might pay for a staff writer, are they even hiring, would I be up for the task?
Then I started reading the headlines. Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson broke up? KStew cheated on him? I was shocked — though not really. He wasn’t right for her.
In that moment, I knew that I was everything these wayward female Hollywood elites were looking for. No more would they have to break the hearts of the seemingly innocent leading men of Tinseltown.
My qualifications? I’m balding, a clear sign of distinguished distinction. As mentioned earlier, I’m a gift behind the wheel too. Getting away would be easy. I don’t have “money,” per say, so I’m setting the bar high. She can bring in the cash as the star she is, and I’ll provide the lifestyle. We won’t need much; I’m great on budgets.
Clearly, seeing as how I’m openly shopping for groceries, chores aren’t a problem either. Red carpet events and private “date-nights” would be a cinch, too. I’m great in crowds.
When I finally paid for my groceries I knew that I was perfect for the Kristen Stewarts, Lindsay Lohans, Britney Spears and Amanda Bynes of the world. It was only a matter of time before we might meet.
Time to dream a little dream.
Reach the columnist at jbfortne@asu.edu. Follow the reporter at @JOMOFO40
