Freudian Slips Irony Oscar

It’s that time of year again! The grand time full of pomp and circumcision to announce the coveted winner of the 2nd Annual Freudian Slips Irony Oscar. The invitation-only ceremonies for faithful Freudian Slips blog readers is traditionally held on Festivus Day, the day before the day before Christmas. If you haven’t been following the mega dittos press coverage, the awards ceremony was held again at Smitty’s Opera House, an abandoned amphitheater of a struggling playwright located at a blip on the map known as Newfield, NJ. My props to the Board of Directors and the non-consensual volunteers, who ardently held scalpers at bay and kept ticket prices under a single dollar.

Finger sandwich appetizers lavishly displayed with Little Paper Pink Umbrellas filled two rusted folding tables. An average three cord cover band got the modest crowd whipped into an eating frenzy. When a moth-riddled red carpet was unfurled by two ex-carnie roadies, the paying guests knew it was time to retreat to their splintered wooden seats. Only since the one-man play, Defending the Caveman, has a stage looked so prehistorically baren.

This years emcee, the multi-talented Pax Romano, danced his way onto the stage reminiscent of the Café Life scene in the movie Rent. Pax did not disappoint with his uncanny ability for improvisation during the many lulls when there literary, I mean literally, wasn’t anything to do or talk about. Pax, who agreed to emcee for the modest upkeep of a new tuxedo and a quart of Lady Sara’s famous potato salad, gingerly removed the nominees from the see-through, albeit sealed, Ziploc storage bags. Balcony guests strained to hear Pax’s muffled voice, who wrestled with a faulty microphone and poor spotlighting all night long.

As the nominees were announced, screams from the peanut gallery filled the amphitheater. Carrying a dustpan and broom, an elderly janitor gave an Academy-award performance catching field mice, which caused all the commotion in the first place.

“Cue the mice again.” slyly whispered Joe Tornatore off stage.

Pax’s outstretched hands quieted the scared-of-rodent crowd. He shouted, “The nominees for best blog posting on Freudian Slips for the year 2005 are:

The Familiar Stranger, by Joe Tornatore. An introspective Dinner with Andre meets Guess Who's Coming to Dinner affair.

Going Postal by Joe Tornatore. An unsuspecting patron’s folly mailing packages through a clerk impersonating a Nazi.

Hoosier Daddy? by Joe Tornatore The chronicle of a naïve vacationing lad who unwittingly visits a gay bar in Indiana.

Hindiana Jones by Joe Tornatore, a comedic peek inside the insignificant world of background acting on the movie set of Kank.

Armenian Cheese by Joe Tornatore, a cheesy Seinfeldish snapshot of ordering American cheese in a deli taken over by foreigners from India.

A tiny boom box played a synthesized drum roll for all to marvel. Without the buffer of security guards or entourage, Joe Tornatore squirmed nervously alone in his Director’s chair to the right of the stage. Regardless of the matinee time start, this could only be Joe’s night. Begging for a winner, the blogging crowd stood at attention one last time. The high decibel roar proved hard to differentiate the mocking chants of Hindi from Indy, India from Nazi.

Pax announced, “And the winner is…….Going Postal.

The sound of one hand clapping and three timely helium balloons released from the orchestra section stamped Going Postal as the resounding winner. Free ribbon-wrapped copy of Going Postal was circulated up and down the aisles to adoring fans. Only one rogue US Postal service worker mildly protested the Oscar winner by tossing an egg onto the foot of the stage. The egg seemed staged to Joe Tornatore so he took it all in stride to the podium. Joe, who avoided egg on his face for the second year running, bowed to the crowd before the curtain literally and figuratively fell down.

“Viva Freudian Slips.” hailed Joe.

*Needless to say, so ends my first ever fictional blog posting on Freudian Slips. This is my last post of the year. See you all next year.