I have my acceptance speech all prepared for whenever I win my big award. After the applause dies down and I have finished looking surprised and overwhelmed, and I’ve huffed a couple times into the microphone to make it seem like I wasn’t entirely expecting to win, and am not secretly thoroughly composed and ready to give my acceptance speech and haven’t, in fact, been thoroughly composed and ready to give it since I was thirteen, I will say:
‘Whew! I have to say, I have never been so not pissed off!’
Everyone will laugh at this – it’s an appropriate comment for me, because probably whatever I’m being given the award for will have something to do with comedy, and with comedy based around being generally pissed off at everything, since that’s what I do. It’s also true. I’ve given a lot of thought to what would make me, finally and totally, not at all pissed off with anyone or anything, and the only thing I can really think of (other than finding true love, which is far less likely) is at long last being properly acknowledged with a big, fat award on T.V. for everyone who’s ever known me to see.
After I’ve done my bit about not being pissed off, and the laughter dies down, I will then stop as if momentarily at a loss for words (which, of course, I won’t be), and, holding the award at a little distance and looking at it as if I can’t quite believe it’s in my hand (which, of course, I can), I will say:
‘Boy, I’ll tell you what, you can trust anybody with a microphone if you just give them a big old trophy first!’
This is good because (a) it’s funny, and (b) it makes me sound as if I had a lot of possibly devastating truths that I would use a public platform to speak to the Man, and so that I’m the sort of person people in power don’t trust with microphones…because I’m dangerous. Which I’m not. I don’t have anything dangerous to say – certainly not anything that people aren’t already saying into microphones all across the country. In fact, if somebody hadn’t already said something in some public forum or other, I would have no way of knowing about it. It’s not like I’ll be getting this award for doing any original reporting.
But nobody will think that about me, because they’ll probably all be thinking I’m smart and witty and have piercing social insight, as I’m sure that whatever I’m getting this award for is really very biting and insightful and satirical. And everyone will already be on my side, because they all enjoyed whatever thing I’ve done so very much. This is my night, after all. I’m the lady with the trophy.
So, that’s as far as I’ve gotten, but I imagine after those two bits and the holds for laughter after them, I’ll only have time to blurt out my paragraph of thank-yous to everyone (which of course I will, because I’m very grateful to all those who will have helped me to receive the award that is certainly coming to me – take note, you) before my time is over, and I shake the award in the air in teary gratitude and kiss my fingers gracefully, before proceeding offstage to thunderous applause and swelling music.
Oh, I’ll also be totally thin and probably looking at least five years younger than whatever age I am at the time. I can’t wait. I wonder what sort of award it will be??
