Make Gibbons Laugh #2

They say you’re the average of the 5 people with whom you spend the most time. Well, in the last year, those 5 for me would be: myself (as well as my pesky, neurotic thoughts—I’ve learned they’re a package deal!), my patient mom and dad for the first six months of quarantine, roommate/legend/little sister/The Bobby Flay of Medford, Annie Gibbons, and... Pete Holmes (his biweekly podcasts “last for 3 hours,” so time with Petey really adds up. It’s such a delightfully deranged podcast—I  mean, it is called “You Made It Weird”— the rare show that manages to be so soulful and raunchy, that makes fart jokes and quotes Ram Dass, that talks with Jack Kornfield and Gary Gulman.)

Annie’s 27. But the voice I often give her—in my head, in actual conversations with her, in conversations with other family members over Zoom with Annie present—is the voice of 5-to-10 year-old Annie. As in, I often talk to her or around her, as her, from 20 years ago. Because Elementary-Aged Annie is still the comedian who makes me laugh the hardest. 

With any seminal Young Annie performance, she’d sound more like a gravely middle-aged man who chain-smokes and less like the blonde pip of a peanut she was with jean shorts and a bowl cut. The Annie visuals did not match the Annie audio. She sounded like Al Pacino and looked like a Little Rascal.

Like when she was 7 and went as Miss Congeniality for Halloween. And when the door would open, Annie would say, “trick or treat. I’m packing heat.” Which, folks, is not, in fact, a line from Miss Congeniality. It rhymes and rolls off the tongue. But I truly don’t know how this entered Annie’s consciousness. Sandra Bullock has a gun and wears a dress, so I should, too. I’m packing heat.

Or, that same year, when she got sent to the principal’s office for climbing over/in/between/on top of all the bathroom stalls during class. And when I asked her about it, she said something like, “sometimes you gotta PEE. And sometimes you DON’T and gotta DO whatcha gotta DOOOOO. But don’t do-DEE YA PANTS.”

Or when she was 5 and brazenly told her teacher that, “my daddy has a GUN and likes to shoot old LADIES in the head.” Which was and is an untrue statement. Did Annie bark this while wearing a polka-dotted shirt and a cat-ears headband then go back to sucking her thumb? Did Annie’s teacher immediately call our mom, understandably worried, wondering if Child Services should get involved? When our mom picked Annie up at the end of the day and brought up this casual mention of premeditated murder, did Annie respond with, “I was just JOKING. Come on. ReLAX, BABY”? Yes, yes, and yes. 

Or when she’d swim in the town pool, her hair completely covering her face, swallowing water, gagging, parents aghast, lifeguards asking if she was ok. I’d be clenching the side in the shallow end. Annie would be flailing away in the deep-end, looking like a pile of seaweed with an open mouth, letting everyone know that it was “just a HAIRBALL. whatEVAH.” 

Or when she briefly took ballet lessons then reported back that she didn’t need to take ballet “if I KNOW I’m gonna be a stand-up comedian, BABY.” Which she already was at every family reunion—memorably clunking on stage with a broken leg in a cast as emcee of the 2004 Gibbons Cousin Talent Show, testing out some new material during the summer before bringing her edgy set back to the four-square court at Fiske Elementary School:

“Hey, was that Sophie on the piano, or was that Beethoven, am I right? Bada-boom bada-BING. Hey hey, BABY. We’re in California, huh? That’s what they’re calling it these days, huh? More like, the next person up on stage won’t Cal-a-BORE-ya! Jimmy, what do ya got for us, DUDE?” (editor’s note: Annie was wearing her favorite shirt, a gross brown t-shirt that said, on the back, “FUH-GET-ABOUT-IT,” like if a UPS shirt was trying to taunt you in red Comic Sans. When her jokes didn’t land, she’d point at her back. Fuh-Get-About-It. When her jokes did land, she’d point at her back. Fuh-Get-About-It. Her spiritual companion: Bruce Chandling.)

Annie no longer talks like this. She does talk like this, though, when she goes to the bathroom: “gonna go drop some kids off at the pool” or “sending the Browns to the Super Bowl.”

A few weeks ago, I went to Annie’s ~ place of work~ to pick up some food (shameless plug for Dave’s Fresh Pasta in Somerville! Truly the best pasta around!). I always text Annie my order earlier in the day, and then she’ll leave my food up front under a name that is NOT mine, usually the name of a character from a show we’re watching or have watched. This time it was STANLEY HUDSON. (I think this gag is partly to inject some whimsy and levity into her day and my day. But I think, mostly, it’s just to fluster me, when I pick up my order and have to explain to a stranger working the register, while I try to keep a straight face, that, yes, I am TOBY FLENDERSON or SELINA MEYER, here for my meatballs.)

Someone behind the counter asked if I needed anything. I was very smooth as I tend to be:

“Ohyeah...uhhhh I...that, uh….um...Stanely hahah...Pretzel Day, right… you know? Hahah. Good stuff. That’s ….uhhhh, me... thereyeah.…. uhhhhh.”

“Oh, you’re Stanley Hudson?”

“Well uhhh...”

“Wait, are you Annie’s brother?!” Her whole demeanor changed. The room got sunny. It was like I knew the mayor of Somerville. And by “mayor of Somerville,” I mean, “Davis Square’s Most Universally-Adored Goober.”

It reminded of Mike Birbiglia’s famous Joey Bag O’ Donuts:

I thought of Joe Bags for a bunch of reasons: 1. It’s a story about a way-cooler sibling who works in the food industry.

2. It’s a story about a way-cooler sibling who works in the food industry in Massachusetts. 

3. It’s a story about a way-cooler sibling who works in the food industry in Massachusetts whose name changes or who facilitates name-changes.

4. And Birbiglia’s imitation of the guys asking about Joe Bags sounds like Young Annie’s stage voice (not to mention, “Joey Bag O’ Donuts” feels like the outcome of Young Annie playing Mad Libs to determine her stage name. Person’s Name: JOEY (From Friends! How YOU DOIN’?!). Food item: Not just one donut but a whole BAG O’DONUTS.)

I’ll leave you with this picture of Annie getting decapitated by a pal at work, whose name, of course, poetically, is Joe (unclear if his last name is Bag O’Donuts).

Sincerely,

LOL LOL (Laughing-Out-Loud Loser On-Line)