I am a one-man “pushing-the-envelope” force.
If we’re standing at the corner of a busy intersection and the crosswalk’s light is a happy red hand instead of a green lazy walking person, I will turn to you and tell you that I will gladly run to the other side of the street, while the traffic is speeding by, and emerge unscathed.
You will turn to me and say, almost too seriously, “Man, you really push the envelope.”
I will order a pizza with all kinds of non-pizza items on it like pineapple and anchovies and onions and beef and multi-colored Mexican peppers you’d normally find in a burrito that has been dubbed “The Fiesta” or “La Cucaracha Dos Manos de Fiesta” and I will take that pizza and leave it in the fridge overnight for all the non-pizza items to fuse themselves to the now hardened cheese. Then I will eat it all for breakfast.
And you will face me, as you’re eating your Lucky Charms and say with a half-grin on your face, “Dude, you are so pushing the envelope this morning.”
I will touch electrical outlets after showering. I will crank-call people with the ability to use caller ID. I will blend dry items from my cupboard with old chinese food in a huge blender and then eat it for sport. I will make bets on idiotic things like how many grapes one can eat, or if someone can eat a piece of white bread in 60 seconds, or if my foot is going to touch a crack on the sidewalk as I run aimlessly with my eyes closed. I will turn on my computer when the world has been overrun with e-mail viruses. I will even use a thermometer without washing it before hand.
And you will see me do all these things, then turn to your friends who are standing right beside you and say to me with the most wickedly serious look on your face and say, “You have to be the most balsy, crazy, intelligent and righteous person pushing the envelope in the World today, and that sure is saying something buddy-boy.”
You may ask me to help an old lady cross the street. You might wonder aloud if I’ve ever send cards to family members on their birthdays. You could inquire about my work ethic. My ability to operate a data-entry computer. My knowledge of the United States Presidents. My ability to match pants with shirts and socks.
And you will find out that I do none of these things based on the simple fact that these actions do not push the envelope one single bit.
And when you understand that, you and I can finally sit down for a cup of tea.