Morning, everyone! I’m gonna get right to it today. Growing up, my favorite actor was Taylor Negron. I know, I know. Who the fuck is Taylor Negron? Well, he’s most famous as the pizza guy in Fast Times at Ridgemont High and the mailman in Better off Dead, and that’s pretty much the only kind of role he ever played until kind of recently when I think he became some sort of hairdresser character on some late era Olsen twins Nickelodeon show or something, but that’s not the point. The point is, this dude was vaguely pervy, pretty strange looking and completely awesome at being someone that knocks on doors and brings shit to the people who the movie is, in fact, about. That was his gig. He was the best bit player ever, and I picked up on it and him really early in my movie watching career.
Now, call it a preternatural knack for irony or just a weird fetishized love for recognizing small recurring details, but I’m not shitting you when I say that as a kid Taylor Negron was my favorite actor. I remember being in gradeschool and Chris and I just cracking up about him doing his lazy and (again) pervy takes and the way that he was always vaguely bored and vaguely too good for whatever totally shitty job the director and the script had him in. His career and acting choices were, and remain something I love for reasons that I don’t fully comprehend, but I tell you what: over the course of the past three decades I’ve spent a lot of time saying “Taylor Negron…he’s the delivery guy from Johnny Dangerously. You know him, right? Yeah, I love that dude.”
SO, fast forward to yesterday when I’m waiting for my kids to wake up from their naps and idly surfing around the internet. A friend of mine, on facebook, posts something approximately like this:
“Taylor Negron is on my plane and he’s drinking a martini”
And I fucking lost my mind. I responded to this post with something that can be summed up as:
“holyfuckholyfuckholyfuck!!!!!! Oh man! Are you serious?!?!?! Tell him I love him in fast times and better off dead and one crazy summer and Young Doctors in love (this last one I’ve never seen, but Chris and I used to joke about how good it’s gotta be all the time) and uh….really? Really? Really? I’m so fucking jealous!”
And the response to that (which came quickly, thank you internet plane technology!) was, again, approximately:
“Brendan, you’re such a sarcastic dick all the time I can’t tell if you really like him or if you’re just being an asshole”
Now, I have a couple of problems with this response. Firstly, let’s say that I, like most people out there, didn’t know who Taylor Negron was…What in the world kind of lame life and time on my hands would I be in the midst of to have nothing better to do than look him up on IMDB and feign excitement solely for the purpose of making a lame joke that no one would even really get? Pretty exceedingly lame and a ton of time is the answer. Secondly, if I knew who Taylor Negron was and wasn’t all that impressed I think I’d be more prone just to ignore the post than to just jump on it. I mean, if, in the course of my social networking I came across someone saying that they ran into Jake Busey in a Denny’s, I’d hardly even notice, much less give a fuck and I definitely wouldn’t waste my time pretending to be enamored with Jake Busey (a total dork, by the way. Eh, just kidding. I can’t even picture him [I know, PCU and all that…spare me]). But the third reason why this is so vexing is the vastly most unacceptable:
This friend and I used to date. In fact, we used to live together. FOR TWO YEARS! And yes, fine, she knows about some cool shit, but let me tell you something, Dogs of War: you know why she knows who Taylor Fucking Negron is? OF COURSE! Nobody gives two shits about that dude like I do. The revisionist history that goes into asking me if I’m actually a True Taylor Negron fan is appalling. Of course I am! I’m the one who shouted the breakfast clubber’s name, bro! If it wasn’t for me, you would have no fucking idea who Taylor Negron even was!!!
Now, I don’t know if she reads this, but it’s a safe bet that if she does, right now she’s shaking her head and so pissed and completely convinced that I’m wrong and that she has always known about Taylor Negron and blah blah blah. But you know what ladies and gentlemen? That’s bullshit. I know this woman and if there’s one thing I’m POSITIVE of, it’s that she had no fucking idea who Tay Neeg was before she met me. I’m fucking positive.
But I’m sure that if she even knows I have a blog, much less is reading this, that that’s falling on deaf ears (eyes. Deaf eyes? No, uh…unbelieving eyes. Yes. Much better) and she’s convinced that I’m an egomaniac and narcissist, which, let me tell you slaves, couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m not making everything about me here. I’m just calling a spade a spade. Just reporting the news, not making it, folks.
As a rebuttal I’d ask her (and everyone) to look at some of the recent tests that have been done on how fallible the human memory is. It involves fabricated childhood trips to Disneyland. Seen em? Shit’s wild. Makes you question everything. Oh! And before you all go and say that I could stand to read that shit myself…um, I’m not talking about a specific memory here. I honestly don’t remember turning just one of the hundreds of people on to Taylor Negron’s awesomeness that I’ve turned on over the years. I’m talking about a deep and enduring passion for the work of a creepy bit player that started when I was a wee sapling and has endured to this day, so suck it naysayers!
Pretty stoked he was drinking a martini on a plane, though. That’s tough stuff. Oh Hollywood, you beautiful bitch.
Okay, I gotta go make a waffle for a guy with shit in his pants, so uh, later.