I'd Like to Thank the Academy (of People Who Let Me Merge in Traffic): Speeches for Life's Fake Awards

Somewhere between watching the third montage of the year and reheating my fourth bowl of cereal, I realized something devastating: I will never win an award. Not an Emmy, not a Grammy, not even one of those local "Best of the Tri-County Area" plaques that hang in dentist offices. And honestly? That's a systemic failure, because I have talents. They're just not the kind the Academy respects.

So I've taken matters into my own hands. Below are my prepared acceptance speeches for the awards I deserve but will never receive. I've rehearsed these in the shower. The shower is my Dolby Theatre.

Outstanding Achievement in Pretending to Hear Someone in a Loud Bar

(Clutching the trophy, visibly emotional, while the orchestra preps the play-off music)

"Wow. Wow. I didn't prepare anything, which is a lie, because I've prepared this since 2013.

I want to thank the bartender at that dive on Sixth Street who leaned in and said 'WHAT?' at the exact same volume I did, creating a loop of mutual misunderstanding that lasted eleven seconds. You are my scene partner. You are my co-star. I owe this to you.

I want to thank my neck, for the nodding. I want to thank my face, for maintaining an expression that said 'incredible' regardless of what was actually said. For all I know, you told me your social security number. I said 'that's crazy' with such warmth. That's the craft.

And to the person who asked me a follow-up question — to which I responded 'totally' — I'm sorry. I've thought about you every day for six years. Some awards cost you something."

Best Slow Walker in a Grocery Store, Drama Series

(Wiping away a tear, holding the statue like it owes me money)

"I want to thank the frozen food aisle, my soundstage, my home. Without your narrow dimensions and that one guy restocking the Digiorno, none of this is possible.

People ask me, 'How do you do it? How do you stop in the middle of the aisle, directly in front of the pasta sauce, with a cart angled at forty-five degrees?' And I tell them: I don't do it. I simply am. The hesitation is not a choice. It is a calling.

To my fellow nominees — the woman reading a coupon at the checkout, the man comparing two nearly identical jars of salsa for nine minutes — you elevate me. This is for all of us.

Finally, to the person behind me who did the little sigh: I heard it. I always hear it. And I want you to know your sigh is the fuel that powers this entire operation. Thank you."

Lifetime Achievement in Replying 'You Too' to Inappropriate Statements

(Speaking slowly, with the gravity of a man accepting a posthumous honor)

"They said 'Enjoy the movie.' I said 'You too.'

They said 'Get well soon.' I said 'You too.'

A waiter once told me I had something on my shirt, and I looked him dead in the eye and said 'You too.'

This award belongs to the auto-pilot that lives in my brain stem, a small gremlin whose only job is to say 'you too' and who has never once read the room. He is the true artist. I'm just the vessel.

To my mother, who witnessed all of it and laughed so hard she had to sit down in a Home Goods: thank you for your support, and also, you too."

Best Original Score: The Song I Hum for Three Days After Hearing It Once

(Humming a few bars of the wrong song before starting the speech)

"I'd like to thank a single commercial for a car insurance company I will never use. Your jingle lives in me now. Rent-free, as the kids say, though honestly I think I'm paying rent TO it.

This award also recognizes my rendition of a song I heard in a Target, which I performed — incorrectly — at a volume that made my coworker put in earbuds. That's the industry validation I've always dreamed of.

To every earworm before you: 'Who Let the Dogs Out,' that one Kidz Bop track, the hold music from my dentist's office — you paved the way. I am nothing but a haunted radio."

In Closing, I'd Like to Thank the Academy I Made Up

Here's the thing I've realized after drafting all of these: the speeches are better than the real ones, because the real ones are given by people who actually accomplished things, and mine are given by a guy who once said 'you too' to a flight attendant who told him to have a safe flight.

The orchestra never plays me off, because there is no orchestra. There's just me, in a bathroom mirror, holding a shampoo bottle aloft, thanking my fifth grade teacher Mrs. Delgado for teaching me cursive — a skill I use exclusively for signing birthday cards with fake enthusiasm.

Maybe one day the Emmys will add a category for Outstanding Achievement in Holding the Door for Someone Who Is Too Far Away, forcing both of us into an awkward jog. Until then, I'll be backstage at the Grocery Store Slow Walker ceremony, in my heart, forever.

You too. I mean — thank you."