The Big 150, Stamps, and TTC Heroes
Nappoholics Anonymous is a weekly column featuring twelve random thoughts by actor Tony Nappo. Some are funny, some are poignant, some bother him, and some make him weep from sadness while others make him weep for joy. Here are his thoughts: unfiltered, uncensored, and only occasionally unsafe for work.
1. As I typed “b-i-t-c” into Facebook, the only predictive text offered was “bitcoin.” And I immediately thought to myself “how many of these bitches could possibly be writing about Bitcoin???!!!!”
2. TTC Hero of the Week
3. Scariest Conversation of the Week
My mom: “I don’t know where to get good sausages anymore. Matheo used to get the best sausages.”
Me: “I’ll get you some from the Cheese Boutique. They have amazing sausages.”
Mom: “You don’t know anything about sausages, Tony.”
My daughter, Ella: “Yeah, Dad. You don’t know anything about sausages.”
Me: “What did you just say?”
Ella: “I’m siding with gramma on this one.”
Me: “Do you really think that’s wise?”
Mom: “Yes. It is very wise. Because I might die and leave her money one day.”
Silence.
Mom: “I said I MIGHT die. (Long pause) I MIGHT.
4. Tweet of the Week
(Thanks, Ned Petrie)
5. It’s amazing how much more savvy kids are today than when I was young. Last week at Tiff, in the exact same spot my younger self set up a soft drink/sandwich stand outside Roy Thompson hall, I saw that two young girls had set up a Wife Alibi/Botox Injection stand.
6. Guest Post of the Week
7. I had a great talk with Billy Maclellan recently, and he told me that when Terry Fox was asked how he was running across the entire country, he answered that he wasn’t. He was just running to the next telephone pole. I don’t think that this is the best way to tackle any intimidatingly huge undertaking. I think it’s the only way.
8. Letting a teenager go to bed with a cellphone is like allowing a Cokehead to go to bed with an eightball. Sleep just isn’t gonna happen. My daughter had a friend stay over at my place a couple of weeks ago, and I made them BOTH turn their phones in at midnight…which didn’t go over well at all. It culminated in Ella stating, (not yelling), but stating, quite calmly “you pretend to be cool, but you really aren’t.” Then walking away from me. I am marking this down as a major victory, considering the fact it took her almost 15 years to figure this out.
9. Texts You’ll Never Recieve #432
“Hi, it’s Bhupinder from the Conservative Party….”
10. Imagine my surprise when Canada Post contacted me to let me know that they were honouring the 150th edition of Nappoholics with this stamp. The only downside, of course, is that people no longer need to lick stamps to use them, though, I suspect many will opt to do that, anyway.
11. I chose this piece by John Tench for my sesquicentennial edition, firstly, because John is a friend and an amazing actor and I had no idea he painted. In addition, the image speaks to me – it’s based on an actual event in John’s life when he was hitchhiking home and cut through a field in winter. The walk that would normally take an hour took four. I feel like I often take these kinds of “shortcuts” in my life. My vision being what it is, when I first saw the shot, I thought it was a photograph. But as I zoomed in, I saw that the techniques and strokes employed were quite bold and unapologetic.
I had the thought that John painted THIS PIECE the way he acts. He isn’t afraid to make bold choices – accents and physical shit, stuff I really try to avoid, in the name of keeping it as truthful and close to the bone as I can – but you fucking believe him, anyway. Maybe it’s that fearless quality in him, or maybe it’s because the event depicted was a true one, but I believe this painting the same way I believe his acting; completely and entirely.
12. This is the 150th edition of this column. I have been writing this shit for about three fucking years now. It has, at times, been a challenge to come up with material that I find interesting enough to share, and, at times, an absolute gift to have a podium to share my thoughts and feelings on a whole variety of shit; acting, theatre, film, life, death, parenting, relationships, friendships, politics, pop culture, and whatever else might seem important enough to address from one week to the next.
It’s been my own little show that I never bothered to produce; Notes for a book I probably won’t ever write; Jokes for the stand-up set I won’t ever have the balls to get up and deliver. It’s become my brand, to a degree. Writing Nappoholics Anonymous has made me a better writer, certainly. You can go back and check: the archives don’t lie. I have a voice within this community. Despite my joking, this is a position I do take quite seriously because I know people are paying attention to what I might have to say on any given Tuesday. I am still constantly surprised to meet people who tell me they are regular readers. Writing the column has made me a more conscious person in that I actively seek the opinions and ideas of non-white, non-male, non-straight, non-cis, non-whatever-the-fuck-else I am. And let people and peers share their ideas, rather than just talk about my own.
It’s made me double and triple check my own ideas and opinions before I hit send. To make sure that I am actually saying what I believe to be true and not just writing the thing that I think other people will want to hear (or expect me to say). It’s made me less afraid to say what I feel about anything (as long as it’s authentic to what I believe). Whether people fucking like it or not. It hasn’t inflated my ego at all. In fact, quite the opposite. Since starting this, I find myself seeking every opportunity to step out of my own spotlight to act as more of a host than a headliner whenever possible. To strike a balance between sharing as much of myself as is interesting or valuable, and celebrating the thoughts and talents of those in our community. I try, as often as possible, to hand over the microphone to those who can speak first-hand on those subjects where my opinion is completely fucking irrelevant. I don’t always have to be selling ME. Sometimes, I just have to run the store.
I was recently speaking to Phillip Riccio, whose brainchild this whole column was initially, and we both wondered where the column might go from here? The truth is that I don’t have a fucking clue. I do know that there is an audience who read this – that it legitimately matters to them (even in some small way). It’s become a regular part of people’s week and life.
Sometimes, it’s just an amusing distraction from people’s stresses and troubles, but occasionally, it moves folks with the column’s honesty, vulnerability and authenticity. Similar to any show, this column will continue for as long as its audience dictates. I imagine that it will be around for as long as I continue to give a shit about it and respect the audience and deliver something I enjoy every week and find worth reading.
And that is what I intend to do, to the best of my ability every week. Some weeks will continue to be better than others. Some weeks will be killer funny, or some may just wallow in my own personal pain, disillusionment and disappointment in the world and in humanity and, at times, in myself.
Wherever the fuck this bus is headed, I will keep driving it as for as long as you wanna keep riding it. And I want to sincerely thank the fuck out of each, and every one of you for reading, and, additionally, for every like, share, and private message. For every comment, every retweet, and every word of thanks or appreciation shared in person.
You really are the only reason to write this. I’m not making any money from it. At this point, I’ve probably reached the audience I am going to reach. It’s not likely to become the next Garfield or Family Circus. It’s just some column written by a fucking Italian/Canadian/divorced/recovering drug addict/ single dad/ actor/teacher/housepainter from Scarborough, Ontario.
And I still fucking love doing it.
I’ll see you at 200.
Nappo.
Tony Nappo
Tony is Italian, he’s from Scarborough, he’s an actor, he’s a father, he’s a really good house painter, and he doesn’t believe that most things matter, ultimately, at all.
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Paintings, Pornos, and Broken Countries
Every single fucking time there is a mass shooting, we all give the speeches, and we all share the memes (to each other, who are all mostly already in agreement), but nothing changes.
Gottfried, Strays, and Easter Eggs
Dogs rarely have a hidden agenda when they meet people or other dogs: they're either wagging that shit or they aren’t.
Slapping People, ACTRA Meetings, and Dog Shit
At one point, I was sleeping with so many actresses that they used to just hold ACTRA meetings in my bedroom.
Birthdays, Cranes, and Judd Apatow
If the Freedom Convoy has answered one question for every Canadian, I think it's this: whatever happened to that dumb kid in my class?
Scorsese, Dentists, and Dying Alone
If waving a Fuck Trudeau flag is a legit way to get a meeting with him, I’m gonna start waving my Fuck Scorsese flag wherever I go and keep my fingers crossed.
Truckers, Porndle, and Bad Boys
In these newly woke times in the entertainment industry, it’s slightly amazing to me that nobody has protested the fact that Denzel Washington isn’t actually Scottish yet.
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