Short Poem about a Short Man

I try not to get fixated

I try not think of him throughout the day

I know it’s unhealthy

However my mind constantly drifts his way.

I wonder how he is doing

If happiness is truly at his door

I wonder if that smile is just a mask

If his heart is actually sore

I Know that he does not

Give my name even a second thought

I Know that he does not

Realize he is the object of my besot

However here I sit, with a stranger forever on my mind

Contemplating his happiness, as if he were actually mine.

I don’t care about his wealth or fantasize about his fame

I care for the man inside, and am indifferent to the character acclaim.

While admiration for his art I certainly can not deny
I want to know man, the heart and the mind.


How is a SuperFan Born?

How is a super fan born? What snaps in an individual’s brain that makes them obsess over a certain celebrity? These days you can get on Twitter or Instagram, or Facebook and come across a fan made webpage for any celebrity you could possibly imagine. But why? Why is any particular individual worth investing that much of your time and attention upon? That celebrity in 99% of the cases does not even know you exist. So why as a self-respecting human being would you swoon and create these fan made webpage shrines?
Do I sound like I am talking down to those of you have done it? Are you getting offended because you are the operator of BeiberFever2015? Don’t take it that way. I’m not putting you down, because I too, am a fan girl. That’s right, I said it. I am a 34 year old fan girl.

I am just trying to uncover what happens, and why our minds fixate on that one person so desperately that we post picture after picture of them on these webpages. What is going on in our heads when we stare at our phones for hours upon hours hoping and praying that they might see our Twitter, or hit like on one of the Instagram pictures we created?
I’m going to look at myself here, because while my obsession doesn’t lie with Justin Bieber, or One Direction, or any other modern day teeny bopping sensation, I still have the same fan girl problems as the rest of you. I think I’ll dig into some Freud and preform the best psychoanalysis upon myself I can to get to the root of what happens in the minds of us “fangirls”.

Brace yourself folks, I am about to reveal the object of my affection. Are you sitting down? Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp could both walk past me right now shirtless and I can’t say that I would even give them a second glance. However, if Martin Short, yeah that’s right, if all 5 feet 7 inches of a 65 year old Martin Short were to walk past me right now my ovaries would leap out of my body and chase him down the street. I can’t help it. I don’t know what it is about him, but to me, this is the sexiest, funniest, most charming perfect man that has ever walked the face of the earth. Martin Hayter Short is the object of my un reciprocated affection. Martin Short is the man I scour the internet looking at pictures of and updating them to Instagram as if anyone but myself would care. But why? Why him? Let’s look a little deeper into the root of a fan girls mind.

As a kid, I had unusually high anxieties and stress that I am still plagued with today actually. I was a tom boy, who from a distance if looking at me, you couldn’t tell if I was even a girl. While, I knew I was a girl and that I liked boys, I just didn’t like the whole long hair and painting my nails and getting prettied up aspect of it all. I would rather wear jeans and high tops and cover my hair up in a ball cap. This led to a lot of teasing and being made fun of through those awkward teen years. I was bullied pretty badly on my school bus, and kids would call me “girl man”. To be completely honest, this is the first time I have ever admitted that to anyone. I hated when they did that. I would often just sink down low in my seat and put headphones in my ears and listen to my Walkman. I think the root of my obsession with Martin Short was born right there on that bus being bullied by those kids. I didn’t have many friends, and I spent a lot of time with my grandmother. My Grandmother is who turned me on to the music of Jerry Lee Lewis. Now keep in mind this was the early 90’s. Jerry Lee had not been cool for a good 35 years when a young me was sunk low in her seat on the school bus rocking out to Great Balls Of Fire.

So, to get back on track here, and get to the root of how these school bullies led me to drift away to Jerry Lee Lewis every day. I became such a huge fan that it was only natural that I buy the movie Great balls of Fire. It was the very first viewing of that movie; Great Balls of Fire that made my heart skip a beat when Dennis Quaid flashed that gorgeous smile of his for the camera. That’s right, I said Dennis Quaid. I know what you’re thinking; you thought I was obsessed with Martin Short, not Dennis Quaid right? Well that’s still true. Marty still holds my heart, but it was Dennis Quaid who led me to Marty. Once I saw that smile of Dennis Quaid’s, and as a 12 year old girl developed my very first crush, I instantly had to have every movie he was ever in. My grandparents, who essentially raised me and spoiled me, obliged to this crush and bought me every Dennis Quaid movie on earth. Have we all seen Innerspace? 1987? Dennis Quaid and Martin Short? If you have not I suggest you purchase it immediately because it has recently been brought to Blu-ray.

So let’s recap. School Bullies led me to melt away to Jerry Lee on the bus, who led me to Dennis Quaid, who in turn led me to Martin Short. I thought my heart skipped a beat the first time I saw Dennis Quaid smile, My heart leapt out of my chest when I saw Martin Short. I was 13 by now, and this movie was old news, having been out for quite some time but it was all I could talk about.

Here I am now 34 years old, that was 21 years ago that I developed this infatuation with a Mr. Martin Short. I’ve seen every movie, every TV Show, every awards show, Broadway play, you name it, I’ve been there done that. So why, after 21 years am I still besotted with this man who has no idea I exist? Will The Beliebers out there and the One Directioners still be in operation in 21 years? A clinical psychologist would describe an obsession as a fixation on an object, person or an activity. Ok, check that box for me in the YES Column. I’ve definitely got that symptom. Now, if this obsession can impair or hider your capacity to love, and work it is diagnosed by a clinical psychologist as “unhealthy” That’s not me. I do have a life after all. I am engaged to be married; I have 4 wonderful and beautiful children and none of which did I name Martin Jr. So upon a further self-diagnosis I deem myself to have a healthy obsession. Do I have a disproportionate and unusual focus on something, sure? Does that something just happen to be a 65 year old gorgeous comedian? Sure. But I’m still going with healthy. The superfan born in me 21 years ago has led a happy healthy and normal life regardless of my self-proclaimed Number One Martin Short Fan Status. What about the rest of you fan girls and superfans out there? Can you track it down to the moment that switch turned on inside of you?

Edie Brickell and Steve Martin

Hello folks, all two of you. Today I’m going to talk about something other than Martin Short. Something else has found itself worthy of my attention. Have you guys heard Steve Martin and Edie Brickell? They are amazing together. I just got My Baby last night. I’m generally not the type to buy music, but these two have had my attention since I heard “won’t go back” and I heard My Baby on some satellite radio station last night and just fell in love. Actually bought it lol. I don’t do that. I don’t pay for music, but this was well worth it. I might even splurge on the whole album. Check them out folks, it’s good stuff


Amanda has spoken. Do it and do it now

Murder Inn or its legal name Morningside Inn


This is the hotel I stayed in while in New York. Martin Short to me you were worth staying on a hotel with no heat or air or headboard on the bed. You were worth a broken elevator and climbing 5 flights of steps. You were even worth not having a private bathroom. Yeah, no bathroom. It was a “shared” bathroom with everyone else on the 5th floor. Thankfully I was only there 2 nights.. thankfully I didn’t get murdered.

Besotted by a Short Man

Besotted by a Short Man

Well, I did it. I drove to New York, I sat through an hour or so long interview of Marty and Alan Zweibel, I jumped up as soon as the show was over and was 3rd in line to have the one and only Martin Hayter Short sign my book. If you have read anything in the blog prior to this post, you know I have met him twice before. Once when I was young and all I wanted was an autograph and once last Winter when I was too overcome with shock or emotion or excitement to even speak to him. Ever since that day last February when I saw him and couldn’t speak I have regretted not telling him how much he means to me. Not like he cares obviously, I’m no one special to him, but to me, he is my everything. Now let me think that statement through, I have a life, I have children, and family, and friends, I’m not some crazy woman with a house full of cats all named Marty. So to say he is my everything can be “read” wrong I guess? He is what cheers me up when I am sad. He is what calms me down when I am stressed. Thinking of him in the movie Clifford at the dinner table “Look at me Like a Human Boy” is what played through my mind and kept me from breaking down in uncontrollable tears at a recent funeral. (I like to have my crazy emotional outbursts privately like a lady should) So when I say he is my everything I don’t mean it like a crazy person who has nothing else to live for, I have plenty, he is just the happy place my mind wonders to when it needs a little escape from how hard the world wants to punch me every now and then.
Anyway, sheesh ramble on much? I got in line behind some lady, and a guy who had 5 books and didn’t even attend the show and was clearly just there to get them signed so he could sell them. Me however, me and my book drove up from Kentucky in an agonizing 10 hour ride, we made it through a night at a hotel I swear I don’t know why I wasn’t murdered in (more about murderville later)and me and my book made it to 3rd in line. I had rehearsed what I was going to say had I had a chance to speak to him. I actually wrote down bullet points on my hand because I knew(given my history) I would go blank and stand there looking like an idiot.
So I walked up to him, handed him my book and as he opened it he asked my name. I told him it was Mandy and as he was writing Hi Mandy!! in the book I leaned in and said
“You know in the book how you talk about meeting Frank Sinatra and telling him he had no idea and no concept of how huge a fan you were?”
He said “Yeah” and look quizzically at me
“That’s what this moment is to me. You are my Frank Sinatra” I replied. I could tell he appreciated the comment but my mind got the better of me and I cant even begin to tell you what he said in return. I asked if I could get a picture to which he stated “Sure” and stood up from his seat. I asked “Can I touch you” to which he replied “sure please do” I laughed and hugged the man like I was hugging the most beloved treasure Id ever seen or come near, (aside from my own precious angel children of course, but I hug them all the damn time and this story isn’t about them its about Martin Short so get off my back with my choice of words) I got my picture. I got my moment, I got to tell my hero, the man of my dream just how much he really means to me.
The downside of this story however is that I walked away alone to the most horrific hotel I’ve ever seen and he got in a cab and drove off and Ill never see him again. But hey… I had my moment.

I might throw up on Martin Short.

I might throw up on Martin Short.

Well, I was un aware until today that Mr. Short, aka the sexiest man alive, aka my hero will be in New York the same week as me again this year doing a book signing. I honestly had no idea. I am planning a visit and have tickets to see the Broadway production of Misery with Bruce Willis and while looking for other things going on in the city while I would be there I stumbled upon a book signing. I of course bought tickets to the Alan Zweibel in Conversation with Martin Short at the 92nd Street Y and OMG it says there is a book sale and signing after the show.

Now, to calm myself down. What am I going to say? Am I going to freak out? Will I pass out?  Will I be able to breathe? What if I break out in terrible acne prior to?

Should I shake his hand? Oh god, the thought of his hand in mine is to much to even think about. I cant shake his hand. But what if I approach the table to have my book signed and he extends his hand first? What do I do then? Ill have to shake his hand right. Ill throw up. Oh god don’t let me throw up on Martin Short.

Should I dress up? Should I wear my I love Ed Grimley shirt?  It clearly says I love Ed grimley across the boobs. But then Martin Short would look at my boobs. What if they aren’t up to par?  Ohhhh Maybe he will sign the shirt?

And now, what do I say to him? Do I just stand there silently and let him sign and walk away? Do I tell him I love him and that I run a Martin Short fan blog and instagram and twitter that no one looks at but me? Do I say “Hi, I loved the book.” and see what his response is and then wing it from there? I cant wing it. I’m a bumbling idiot at that thought of being next to him.  Ill need a script.  Ill have to write on my hand what I need to say. This will more than likely be the last time I am ever near him.

I think I will say “Hi, How are you”  followed by his “hello” Then I will say “In your book you talk about meeting Frank Sinatra and how you told him he had no idea, no concept of how huge a fan you were, that is this moment for me. This is a story my kids, and grandkids will be told over and over until I die. You are my Frank Sinatra”

what do we think? Can I utter those words to my hero?

Martin Short is my Justin Bieber


I met Marty, twice actually. Once in 2003 when he came to Louisville to do a show. My ex husband had gotten us tickets, because anyone who knows me, knows this is a gift I’d die for. Best gift I had ever and still have ever received actually. We went to the show, and it was just as amazing as I had ever dreamed. He came out and did the stance I love so much where he pushes his suit jacket aside and puts his hands on his hips and just stands there for the world to admire him. And they should, he is quite something to admire.

The show was hilarious, I remember it well even after almost 12 years have passed. I remember him coming out into the crowd and I remember my heart pounding as he walked past me. After the show was over, and my ex…

View original post 1,414 more words