Picture with me, if you will, an alternate reality. A reality in which the movies Click and I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry were never made, no one ever heard a frat boy belching “The Hannukah Song,” and the story of an overgrown man-child who’s forced to grow up has not been told as many times. Now in that alternate reality, picture a bar somewhere in Brooklyn. A middle-aged man is sitting, nursing a gin and tonic. He drinks gin and tonics to keep the weight off. His wife is back home with the three children he didn’t want, but he’s sneaking a few minutes out with the fellas to unwind from the stress of a life unfulfilled. No one talks about their lost dreams anymore, but tonight, for some reason, the man asks “Did I ever tell you about the time that I tried out for MTV?” His friends look at him. “You? You tried out for MTV. Getouttahere.” “I did,” the man says proudly. “I tried out to be one a nem VJs. You know that joke about the anorexic? The one I’m always telling?” The man’s friends nod in pain, how could they not remember that joke. “I did that one. It killed. You should have seen it. I wonder what ever happened to that tape.” The man finishes his drink in silence, lost in the promise of what could have been.

Thankfully, we live in the reality in which baby voices and silly yelling are the funniest things.