Category: Martin Short

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.

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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?

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.

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 and I were walking to our cars I noticed a limo and a handful of people standing beside it. I recall telling him, “that’s his car, that’s got to be his car” And I recall him telling me “and over there is our car, lets go”  I tried to talk him into waiting with me, maybe we could get an autograph or something and he refused saying “If you love him so much wait and get a cab home” He didn’t think I would call his bluff, and to be honest I didn’t think he would call mine. The first time in  my life I had ever ridden in a cab lol. But I did. I waited about 20 minutes outside until the door opened from the Theater and to my amazement there he was right in front of me. Martin Short!! Standing right there in front of me. Oh how I wish camera phones had existed back then. He signed my ticket stub, patted my shaking hand, smiled and moved on to the next fan. Its strange to me that something so huge to me is just another day, and another fan to him. No big deal, but to me, I was literally on cloud nine for weeks.  Needless to say my first cab ride ever was well worth being abandoned in downtown Louisville for. No regrets here.

The second time I met him was this past year, in February of 2015. My daughter, who is now 16 and I took a trip to New York together and guess who just happened to be in “Its only a Play” the same weekend I selected to take her?? coincidence? Lets say yes so I don’t sound too much like a crazed stalker here. But in reality, I knew what I was doing, I knew that aside from some mother / daughter time that we desperately needed that we would be standing outside a stage door awaiting his arrival or departure several times that weekend. I actually wrote him a letter, before we even boarded the plane from Kentucky to New York. I wrote it several times, threw it away, wrote it again and talked myself out of taking it with me only to talk myself back into it. I carried the letter in my pocket from Louisville, to New York determined that if I got the opportunity I would hand deliver it to him. It wasn’t much, just a gushy fan letter telling him how much he means to me, and how much I loved his book and respected how much he cared for his late wife and so obviously adored her in his book. It was simply a letter getting everything I needed to say off my chest and by hand delivering it to him I would at least know that he knew he had changed someone’s life. He had given someone a reason to smile, and he had brightened someone’s day on many occasions. The first day we arrived in NYC we went and checked out the Jacobs Theater, because that is where his play was. I was just in awe. I kept telling my daughter “he’s in there. Martin Short is inside that building right now” And of course she’s looking at me like I’m a crazy person and responds “who cares where Martin short is mom” I explained it to her like this “you know all those crazy teen girls who are so in love by Justin Beiber? How they feel, how they act about him?? That’s what Martin Short is to me” Martin Short is my Justin Bieber!!!!

Once she finally gave in to the idea that some of our NYC time would be spent trying to deliver a note to the man of my dreams things went a little smoother. We talked to a few people and they showed us where to wait and told us what times he had been there in the days prior so we could try and be there around the same time. I feel so much like a stalker telling this story, but its not like I followed the man to his hotel room, or hid behind corners and watched his every move, I simply waited at the theater hoping to see his car pull up. Is that stalking?? There were several people there, and all waiting for someone else. I seemed to be the only Martin Short Fan on the streets (alley way of Jacobs theater) That day.  We waited for about 2 hours the first day, in freezing February New York weather. I felt guilty, and he didn’t arrive when the staff said he would so I told my daughter lets just forget it and enjoy our trip. I took the letter and threw it in a trash can right there on 45th street. We went on to enjoy our trip very much and had a great bonding experience. The day we were scheduled to leave we were actually walking around Times Square and I just kept telling my daughter, I want to try one more time, I just want to go and check and see if he’s arrived yet or not. So she and I, suitcases in tow walked down to 45th and were informed he had not yet arrived and should be coming anytime. I have a picture of my daughter on that day, in that alley way sitting on top her suitcase freezing in the snow waiting with me. She tells me its child abuse evidence 🙂 I tell her its a memory she will never forget. As we were about to give up yet again and make our way to the airport I saw a Black SUV pull up. I saw him in the backseat of the car. I yelled to my daughter ” its him, its him, get your camera” She ignored this request until it was almost too late thinking I was crazy and the video we have actually only shows his feet and the audio of me saying OH MY GOD OH MY GOD.  He got out of the car, and I walked towards him grinning like an idiot. He smiled back and I said “Can I please get a picture with you?” He said “Sure”

The last thing I remember was me telling him how much I loved his book and how I had come from Louisville just to see him. I don’t recall what he said in return. I was star struck. I so much regret the way I acted. I wish I had been calm enough and cool enough to have actually held a conversation with him. I regret throwing the letter away 2 days prior that I had carried from Louisville to New York just to give to him. However as he says in his own book, “Its the stars who were big to you when you were 12 that leave you unsteady on your feet”  I could walk past Brad Pitt, or Justin Beiber for that matter today and not really think twice about it, but Martin Short left me star struck, babbling like an idiot on the streets of New York. I remember watching him walk away, and down the alley towards the stage entrance. This memory is etched in my brain, him walking away from me and me being overcome with instant regret of things I should have said. I remember wishing he’d turn around, or look back but he didn’t. He went his way and my daughter and I went ours.

The aftermath of my “Martin Short High” as my daughter calls it ended up costing me about $500 because I couldn’t say no to anything she asked me for after that. I just handed her my credit card actually and let her spend away. $500 was cheap, now that I think about it,  that could have ended way worse. I have a picture of he and I  that I look terrible in, but he looks amazing. I am smiling like a moron, he has a huge grin on his face as well. I actually mailed the picture to him, requesting he sign it and mail it back. I am still awaiting that picture and its been 7 or so months so I don’t think I will ever receive it. The memory however will last forever. That picture is sitting on my desk at work and I smile daily looking at it and remembering the day I met my Justin Beiber.

Clifford

Clifford

Clifford is my favorite movie of Marty’s. I think this is just because it is something I watched as a kid and it brings me back to my child hood. I am 34 now, and can remember watching this, I can remember the people I was with , and I can remember none of them liking it. I loved it. I loved Marty. This movie was released in 1994, although I believe I read somewhere it was actually made in 1990.  My love, a 40 year old man playing a child. Another fun fact for me, and the era in which I grew up is that Ben Savage was in this movie, and I never knew him as anything other than Fred Savages little brother so it just fascinated me that he was in this. I love the sense of humor portrayed in this film and I love the fact that he, as a 40 year old man played a 10 year old boy. My own son, now 13 reminds me of Clifford from time to time although I have tried to get him to watch the film on several occasions I have not been successful. I actually have the ending of this movie, a scene where Marty sings San Francisco as my ringtone. Excellent movie, regardless of what the critics said. Great job to Paul Flaherty the director and Jay Dee Rock and Bobby Von Hayes the writers, and not to leave out the most important part Marty, well played sir I loved it and I don’t care if it was done 25 years ago.

thLDESRLIW