Take Your Records, Take Your Freedom (Funny Blog from Comedy Central's Dwayne Perkins)

So, every time I send out an email to my mailing list, which is maybe once a month but realistically more like once every two months, I get people unsubscribing to my list. Mind you all these people are people who gave me their email address at one point or another. I send out emails at this infrequent pace partly because I’m busy and not really an ace when it comes to promotion and partly because I don’t want to be “that” guy wearing out his welcome.

I get my share of junk email and promo email to sift through. But it’s email. Tossing it requires a click and keeping it requires nothing, especially with yahoo and the like offering unlimited space. I’m not suggesting people be like me and have 2016 unopened email messages in their inbox but (my hurt feelings aside) does your inbox need to be pristine? It costs you nothing. Plus, like anything in life, it’s so easy to get bogged down with administration that you never get to any actual work. For me, unsubscribing or blocking every email that I don’t have immediate use for would take up so much time that I probably wouldn’t have been able to hit you with this month long blog-o-thon. :-)

I have a junk email filter to weed out some of the unwanted stuff but I still occasionally miss an important business email that was mistakenly redirected to the spam folder. It’s not an exact science.

I’m not privy to each unsubscriber’s story but could they all really be too busy or annoyed to suffer an email from me every other month that they don’t even have to read. Does ensuring they never get my bi-monthly email ever again really free up their lives? It’s email, not homework. Or maybe they’re upset that I took a long lay-off…You think you could just go away and pop upout of the blue with your show announcements. Where were you when we needed you!?...

I get 3 emails a day from the Minister of Finance from a made up country asking me to put 6 million into my bank account, thus helping him stave off a coup. I think these may be frauds…maybe. But I simply erase them. And many of my friends send me emails. I read them if I have time or maybe delete them without reading them but I don’t block them from ever sending me an email again.

Funny thing is I get many people asking me why I don’t send out more updates. I guess I’m afraid of getting more unsubscribers. It’s silly now that I think about it; to stay away from supporters just because in doing so I may have to part ways with non-supporters. I’m a bit hurt but more confused at the absoluteness of it all.

How come you never call?….You shouldn’t have called!...

Good Cop, Bad Cop(Funny Blog from Comedy Central's Dwayne Perkins)

I've never wanted to be the police (that's pronounced po-lease) but I do think it would be fun to be a cop and do good cop bad cop while interrogating Soldier Boy. I would be the good cop of course. And after the bad cop screams in his face, talks bad about his mama and then starts to rough him up...I could jump in, pull the bad cop off, turn and say....







Soldier Boy...Tell 'em!

Maybe Soldier Boy would crack....

Soldier Boy: Alright! Alright!...I did it okay...I super soaked that ho...but she had it coming...

Bleach Nostalgia

I’m always amazed how a smell can instantly take you back to an exact moment in your life. At this point I basically have a smell to memory rolodex in my head. Today while doing laundry a whiff of bleach took me back to grammar school.

The bleach took me back to when a girl named Celeste threw bleach on my favorite jeans. I was doing laundry. I've been doing laundry, alone, since the building block days. I can still remember those jeans, dark blue with orange trimming. I can’t completely recall our dispute but I do think the attack was unprovoked. Maybe she was just trying to help me write a blog for my blog-a-thon 28 years in advance. That Celeste wasn’t a mean older petty bully. No, she was a visionary helping me tap into my inner writer.

The main lesson learned was not to wear my good jeans while doing laundry. (Today I wore some ragged shorts to the laundry room.)

Kids can be so cruel but Brooklyn kid cruelty skews a little …well…crueler than most places. I would have much rather just been given cooties. Even a wedgie would have been preferable over destroying by favorite pants, when I only had 5 pair to begin with.

Brooklyn…we go hard…we go hard.

Hi, My Name is.....

Have you ever considered this:

You probably can't name your kids the same name as any of your Ex's. I'm no Wilt Chamberlain but I am running out of names I like, in case I ever have a daughter. In fact my favorite name is already off the board. I had a long term relationship with a girl, whose name i absolutely adore. Even with us not working the name still stands as a great name. (sometimes a person can destroy a name...see, Adolf and Atilluh)

When I meet a new girl now I almost don't want to know her name. Flavor Flav had it right giving his girls silly nicknames. Not like he's going to name his daughter, "New York" or "Hoops"

I'm going to start giving new girls I meet names randomly generated from one of those validation programs.

ME: Meet my friend Ice Fish. I met her in the Beverly Center.

Job Security

Time and time again we hear the phrase,”in these economic times.”, it’s quite lame because it’s an innocuous statement that does nothing to hint or capture how we got here. It’s like a friend who crashed your car and refers to it as “that time your car was crashed.”

I’m not here to state the reasons for our economic demise. Although I’m told it’s a mixture of many things but the two foremost culprits are the sub-prime housing loan collapse and banks over leveraging. (yeah, I don’t know that it means either. Mainly a bunch of borrowing that couldn’t be paid back.)

Through it all though, the one job that hasn’t been eliminated is the guy/girl who rips your tickets at the movies. I mean you can buy your tickets online, use a kiosk to print them out, but you still need a person to rip your ticket as you enter. Can’t they find a trusty robot or a fail proof turnstile? And now that people are going to the movies in record numbers because that’s all they can afford, the movie ticket rippers are in high demand. The good ones, the ones who can rip the ticket and give you back your stub all with one hand can basically name their price.

That guy in your neighborhood, who’s actually adding a wing onto his house, in these economic times, may very well be a world class movie ticket ripper. So don’t lament over the job market, instead work on your one handed ticket tear.

I’m Not a Biter…

I have had some major work done to my teeth, my two front teeth at that. It wasn’t a Hollywood vanity move. Many moons ago, I collided with a friend while playing basketball which left me with a hanging tooth. The dentist went all medieval on me and simply pushed the tooth back in. Years of training and he basically did what a concerned caveman would have done. The tooth was saved, well not so much saved as the inevitable removal was delayed. Years later I did have to have the tooth removed.

A root canal, crown, bone graft, gum graft, implant and veneer later and my pearly whites are up on their feet again. And I still have my trademark gap, streamlined for success. Somehow my dental plan classifies an implant as cosmetic work and doesn’t cover it. Having both your front teeth isn’t cosmetic, its mandatory. No one sees a person missing a front tooth and thinks…”Ahh, a Rhodes Scholar” No. When we see someone missing a front tooth we think…”There’s a guy who’s made some bad choices…Is he looking this way? I hope he doesn’t say hi…” As I wasn’t up for writing a whole new comedy set about being a toothless wonder, I had to shell out all the money for the aforementioned procedures.

Thousands of dollars later, and even though the doc says my two fronts are ready to rock, I still won’t bite down on things with them. So I bite into apples and pizza using my side teeth. I look like an alien who just assumed a human body but skipped the paragraph on chewing and I can’t just use the laser under my finger nail for fear of blowing my cover. I just hope my side teeth don’t get all Count Dracular-ree and fangy from all the extra usage. My friends have been surprisingly cool and most people won’t say anything about my odd eating…to my face. I do get way more food on my cheeks as a result of my unique eating style. But still, don’t call me sweet cheeks.

Relaxation Taxation

I don’t particularly like doing nothing. When you’re doing nothing, how do you know when you’re finished? :-) I’m more into doing nothing that looks like something more than I am into overtly doing nothing. I’ll “organize” my files while I watch a Law & Order marathon. Of course, I get nothing done but I have some activity to at least make me feel productive and I’m in the comfort of my own messy home.

I recently tried to do nothing with friends. I tired just sitting out by the pool. It was way more tiring than doing something active. After a few minutes, I felt like tenderized meat. I kept looking up expecting to see someone shaking adobe seasoning powder on me.

How is doing nothing, laying in the hot direct sunlight, better than watching DVDs at home with a thermostat within arms reach? Then I went into the pool to cool off. Okay, now it’s bearable but how long can a person just stand in water...said the native New Yorker who can’t float or tread. I guess I’m more of a running through a sprinkler guy.

I get it, it’s all about having fun on your vacation, but why does all this relaxing have to happen outside in high temperatures? How about relaxing indoors and maybe enjoying the outdoors when the sun goes into hiding?

All this pool, beach and sun bathing is really adults’ attempt to recapture a bit of their carefree youth, when getting wet was just about the most fun you could have. But the adults can never recapture that joy. But what do I know? Good luck with the sunburn.

Don’t Take Candy From Friends

I never like saying hello to someone I know when I see them totally out of context. For instance, if I see someone I know from L.A. crossing the street in Germany and they don’t see me, I probably won’t say hello. What are they doing all the way in Germany? What if they’re a spy or doing something diabolical and now they have to kill me because I wasn’t supposed to see them. I don’t want to be the guy who doesn’t make it home because he broke his back to say hi. And even when I see them back in our original setting, I still won’t mention that I saw them. I might casually drop a hint:

ME: You know I was in Berlin last week right? I had a good time, gotta love that Bratwurst.

And if that person doesn’t immediately own up to also being in Germany then I know my unfriendliness may have saved my life.

I recently broke my own rule and said hi to a comic I know from LA when he walked past me in Seattle. Luckily for me he either was not on a top secret mission or he was but had a good enough excuse that he didn’t need to erase me.

But by all means, if you see me out and about in some far off exotic place please say hi…at your own risk.

Bourgeois Peasant

This blog was warped from I’ve Gone Hollywood.

I’m like a schizophrenic when it comes to spending. An examination of my spending would reveal immense frugality with odd splurging thrown in. For instance I have come up with a scheme to avoid putting stamps on letters.

If you’re mailing a letter to the same city you live in or maybe even state. Put the TO: address in the corner where the return address should be and put the RETURN: address in the front where the TO: address should be. That way when the Post office sends it back with the insufficient postage stamp on it they will actually be delivering it.

An elaborate scheme to save 48 cents.

Give it a try but don’t say it was my idea. I don’t need a federal charge. If you read the blog that warped here you already know about my car. I also go to the Latino supermarket in LA and buy a week’s worth of Pan Dulces pastries to take to Starbucks with me during the week, avoiding their inflated scone fees. (I likes my scones baby)

But I have a personal trainer. Doesn’t seem to fit but my legs and core are stronger than ever. Based on my other spending patterns you think I would do the Clubber Lane Rocky 3 workout; Chin-ups in a dank warehouse. But I’m doing thrusts and flinging weighted balls half a basketball court. For me, hardcore means the condition of the muscles below my pectorals and above my waist.

I guess I have balance. And the money I save on scones I can apply to my top flight training. Everyone has to choose what’s superfluous and what’s necessary. As long as you don’t have too many things in your “must have” column you should be okay. As long as you don’t skimp on the bill with your friends then jump into a cherry Hummer, you should be okay.

A Capella Fella

Close friends, and now my faithful blog readers, know that I’m currently on a nationwide shower tour. I would love to write the rest of this blog tomorrow and leave folks hanging for a day but cliff hangers are not my bag. And yet that last sentence provided the distance and slight amount of time I needed to build a smidgen of suspense before giving an explanation of something so random as a shower tour. I’m a member of the Bally’s Fitness chain. I would cancel my membership but I find myself all over Los Angeles and Orange County in need of a shower. There’s always a Bally’s close enough to provide funk relief and save me a journey home. Angelinos know that you must plan your life around traffic. You don’t want to be 20 miles (an hour and a half drive in rush hour) from home and ripe.

As I have more than just the shower plan, the showers are usually preceded with a brief but brisk workout. So I found myself in Pasadena for a meeting this morning.

QSN: Los Angeles is the capital of meetings. I have so many meetings that I should hire a secretary and sergeant at arms to follow me around. Some of it is self indulgent busy work but some of it is stuff that might payoff. Some of the most successful entertainment ventures of all time started with a coffee shop “meeting.” I hope this meeting was the start of something big.

So I’m in the locker room at Bally’s, coming down from an intense stint on the elliptical machine and getting ready for the shower. As I slipped into my shower shoes “Lips of An Angel” by Hinder rang out from the gym PA system. There’s nothing like a catchy tune that you haven’t heard in a while to stay in your head all friggin’ day. Flash ahead 3 minutes and I’m in the public shower singing “Lips of An Angel.” I looked away from the old man in the shower opposite me so he wouldn’t think my serenade was for him.

QSN: Many Ballys showers don’t have doors, just “booths.” Some don’t even have booths, just a room with shower a spout protruding from the wall every 4 feet or so. Both are a bit invasive. Upside: They make for really quick showering.

I cut my solo short; which was really hard to do because the acoustics in this shower were great. I had reverb and tone. I’m talking perfect pitch. Alas, singing in communal showers is a no-no, unless you’re in the cast of “White Shadow”* and everyone is singing with you….

Dwayne, Take it to the bridge!

I resorted to humming. Damn you Hinder!

*White Shadow - early eighties TV show where a white basketball coach taught his inner city team about life, teamwork and sportsmanship. And for some reason they always sang doo-wop songs naked in the shower. You know, just like every high school basketball team,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yd9OWJttosc&feature=PlayList&p=63A527BDFB06600C&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=29
There’s a long uncomfortable shower scene at 3:20 or skip to 5:16 for the singing. I love Youtube

Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn…

By now most of my faithful readers know I’m high on value and low on frills, especially when it comes to my pesos. If you want to throw in frills, I won’t complain but if it means skimping on my value then watch the Brooklyn boy, well…go Brooklyn.

QSN: As the whole BK nation knows, Brooklyn can be used as a noun, verb and even adjective. I hear some dude in Red Hook uses Brooklyn as a helping verb. “He Brooklynly runs to catch the F train before it leaves the station.”

But I digress. My readers also know that I frequent hotels, from the most lavish resorts to the dingiest rat holes and everything in between. And what have I learned from all my stays? Cheap hotels are way better than expensive hotels. Before I explain I must give one small disclaimer/qualification. My theory does not apply to Über expensive all inclusive type places where sheiks and heads of states stay. The bathroom in those places is nicer than any apartment I’ve ever had. If a rich sheik says you can crash in his tub, you should jump at that offer. Plus, you can probably drop a deuce in one of his other 16 bathrooms.

My hypothesis speaks to value and applies to expensive hotels that have nice dark wood in the rooms but try to nickel and dime you every step of the way. The lavish places just charge you a grip up front so anything you want after that is free(Free? I meant, already paid for. There that’s better.) The height of the hotel is a dead giveaway that you’re going to be ala carted to near death. If I walk up to a tall hotel building and before I even get to the front desk 5 people have called me sir and 3 have offered to help me with my 1 carry on roller bag, I know I need to grip my wallet tight. These places, charge you extra for internet, the buffet is usually mediocre at best with a stellar price tag, the parking cuts into your retirement fund and you can eat from that snack bar in your room or just use your money to light an all night campfire.

Now contrast that to a rinky dink Days Inn. The room rate is less to begin with. Parking is free. In fact you probably park right outside your door. If it’s working that day, the internet is usually free. They probably have Otis Smith cookies at the front desk free for the taking and to top it off, the continental breakfast buffet is included. You get to make perfect waffles with the non stick waffle turn over thingy.* You literally cannot mess up. You pour, turn, it beeps and wala perfect waffle to go along with your juice, yogurt and assortment of cereal. Every now and then they’ll even have eggs and meat. Just avoid bed bugs and you’re getting way more bang for your buck.

* Waffle maker I’ve seen only in hotels but I’m thinking about getting one for the crib. See pic below.

I’m Cool Like That

Sometimes things go out of style for no good reason. There’s a general consensus that said thing is pretty rad … and then one day, with no official meeting or memo even, we kinda all agree that said thing is out. And it simply vanishes without anyone even acknowledging it happened. Kind of like the younger sister on the show Family Matters. One show they had a little sister and the next they didn’t. They didn’t kill her off or send her to live with a relative. No explanation at all was given. They just stopped having a sister. Orwellian indeed.* I call it the Digable Planets Syndrome**. We have lost some very useful things and people to this syndrome.

To counter this unfair tossing away of things, I’m starting a campaign to bring things back that really never should have been exiled in the first place.

First up:
The four color pen! What a useful and awesome device. Four colors in one pen!! In fifth grade we all agreed that the four color pen was the key to unlocking our potential. The organizational implications were endless. And we all had a system. What was yours? Blue for math? Red for science? Or maybe you drew your color lines on time of day. Blue on Monday? Green on Wednesday? The sky was the limit. You and your 4 in 1 pen were going to change the world. But while you were dreaming, life was happening. We got PDA’s. We started dating. All of a sudden we felt silly having a fat pen in our hands in public. We stopped passing notes with heart dotted I’s.

QSN: Either they made the four color pen smaller or my hands got a lot bigger. As a kid I remember having to switch hands or use one hand to guide the other. But now I can write with the pen sans hand cramps.

My friends, the four color pen is back. And it’s not just for wide eyed kids anymore. I’m in a coffee shop right now proudly sporting my ink quartet. They still sell them at Staples and Office Depot. Grab one for yourself and one for the little ones in your life. This pen will change my life… if I could only remember what my system is.

ME: Was black for new jokes or blog ideas? Green is my things to do list...no…blue is my things to do list and green is movies to add to my Netflix queue…maybe I’ll just use red for everything…

*Orwellian – refers to the world George Orwell created in his book 1984. Big brother was watching and could make people not only disappear but also erase them from history.

**Digable Planets – 90’s hip-hop outfit. That splashed on the scene with their hit “Cool Like That.” A ridiculously phat track but shortly after that we stopped messing with them. Maybe we can bring them back once we get the four color pen up on its legs.

QSN: Quick Side Note

RIP MySpace

So by now it’s probably clear to everyone that MySpace is dying a slow death. At least in the US and in Canada Facebook reigned supreme from the beginning. I know MySpace maybe went too skanky at times but this Facebook exodus, in my opinion, is a mistake.

MySpace was never perfect but it was home-grown and all it’s changes seemed organic and driven by users’ needs. Facebook seems like fun but, to me, is not very intuitive and is way too noisy. I want to be a part of an online community but I don’t want to live there and share everything about myself there. Why does everyone need to know every change? I know you can restrict people but even that is a pain. You ever try accepting a friend request on Facebook? It takes 30 seconds per add then they instantly ask you if you want to add more or suggest to that person who they should add. It’s virtual hand holding.

I’ll even concede that Facebookers seems to be a tad bit smarter than MySpacers. But where’s its soul. Facebook is high school relived. MySpace dropped out but kicks way more ass…shows more too…Which ultimately led to its demise. But take away all the scantily clad women trying to gain instant celebrity and you are left with an okay community that’s big but still small enough to morph and get personal messages from its creator. (Big Up Tom)

Facebook is like that person you date right after you break up with someone. They seem perfect because you focus on the ways that they are different from your Ex but all the while you overlook all their faults. It seems like destiny is smiling kindly down on you until it all crashes down and you realize this new one is the same, if not worse than your last one.

So what are you going to do, switch communities every 3 years when the new “hot” one comes out? And pretend it’s the best thing since sliced bread? Marvel, again, at how easy it is to find old friends? No online community is perfect. Eventually you’re going to have to find one online community and make it work. You’re not getting any younger.

Nobody Likes a Rat

So I recently found myself in a Chuck E. Cheese. Okay, I didn’t just appear there nor was I warped there. I went for my nephew’s birthday party. I took the G train to Northern Boulevard in Queens. That still didn’t stop me from repeatedly asking myself…”How did I get here?”

To call a bunch of New York City kids let loose in a virtual child wonderland unruly, is being kind. There was ticket theft, line skipping, game cheating and, although I didn’t witness it personally, I’m pretty sure some pizza swiping went down as well. To be fair, some of the game cheating was just the children and parents not knowing how to play the games. I saw one guy throwing balls at the Skee* ball machine. Throwing!! I’m from Coney Island so I’m a Skee ball aficionado. My Grandmother and I could have gone pro in Mixed Age, Mix Generation Doubles Skee ball (if there were pro Skee ball and if…) To see a grown man teaching his son to throw a Skee ball was sacrilegious and hilarious all at the same time. It doubled me over with laughter…or was it the outrage that sent my head to my knees?

QSN: It seemed the immigrant parents were the worse of the Skee ball offenders. Not only throwing the ball but also walking on the machine and placing the ball directly into the hole. Of course this made the machine tilt. To be fair to them though, I went to Japan once and I was thrown by Pachinko. And I’m sure if you put a Bocce ball in my hand without any instruction, I would ask for a bat.

In the end my nephew was terrified by the sight of Chuck E. Cheese. He finally begrudgingly came around as we kept smiling and showing that Chuck E. wasn’t too bad a guy by going over and touching him and taking pictures. We’re from New York; of course we don’t like a rat. And maybe Chuck E. is not a rat but any “mouse” that stands 6ft tall is, for all intents and purposes,…a rat! (Mickey Mouse being the lone adorable exception) Plus, NYC has become overrun with actual rats on the subway and on the streets. We’re sending our kids a mixed message.

PARENTS: Stay away from those rats on the street. They’re riddled with disease….Oh Chuck E.? That 6ft monstrosity?…oh he’s cool.

If you really want to prevent teen pregnancy, don’t give high school girls an egg or a bag of flour to carry around for a week. No, send them to Chuck E. Cheese. It’s the scared straight of teen debauchery. I’m pretty sure the two high school "Chuck E Helper" girls who flank Chuck E. and sing Happy Birthday every 20 minutes won’t get preggers until an appropriate age. Also, singing Happy Birthday to unappreciative kids and parents with a guy in a rat suit probably inspires them to have good grades as well. So, Chuck E. is also the scared straight of awful jobs.**

*Skee Ball - Wonderful arcade game that I play better than you.
http://www.skeeball.com/
** All honest work is fine by me but…you know…

In The Beginning There Was...

So I’m in Seattle for a couple of days and I just left the first Starbucks ever! It’s like seeing the first roach or adding the first band ever to join myspace. Can you imagine only 1 Starbucks?! I can’t even picture only 1 Starbucks per New York City square block. We forget that even some of the biggest corporate behemoths were once Mom and Pop shops. Should we glorify their rise or denounce it? Job well done or job done too well? Are they stifling competition or just real good at it. The answer to those questions is beyond the scope of this blog. You know there are some Seattleites who remember when…

Seattleite: … Starbucks was cool before it got all lame and everybody started going...

Probably the same folks who curse the day Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” hit the airwaves and they had to then share their hometown heroes. And maybe these same people remember when Microsoft was cool, before it got all Lame and every PC came with Windows preinstalled on it. Okay, maybe I went far. It was interesting to be in this tiny store that basically took over the world of coffee.

Starbucks dominance is odd when you consider they're not even Seattle’s Best coffee. **

The store was packed, which is probably why they opened more. The 1st Starbucks was actually sans seats so I had to find another Starbucks to work in. Good thing there’s one up the street.

** Sorry for the lame joke but I couldn’t resist.

Shout out to New Years nation at www.newyearsnation.com .Come party with us in Seattle

That’s Entertainment

So I was on a downtown F train in Manhattan. A group of young lads hopped into the subway car and started chanting:

LADS: What time is it?
LADS: Showtime!

Oddly, they all knew the answer to the question they were asking and yet they all still asked.

Like most New Yorkers, I hardly look up at the never ending parade of attention-grabbing panhandlers. And I give money even less often. A person could be on fire and I might look up and maybe give a quarter.

My take on it is, why do I have to pay for an unsolicited display of talent?

ME: I appreciate you juggling kittens…no it’s pretty amazing but I don’t remember commissioning you to come here on the train and toss felines. Do you have an invoice…and RFP*?

Back to my train ride…

These lads proceeded to break dance, flip, do head stands, hand stands and windmills…on a moving train! They had all of 3 feet in any direction and did all this without hitting anyone. They continued even as the train pulled into the station and came to a stop. I can barely stay in my seat when that 20 ton chunk of moving steel jolts, breaking in 1 block from 40 mph to zero. In fact, most New Yorkers don’t even get mad when the person standing next to them slams into them during a particularly abrupt stop. It’s par the course. These kids maintained hand stands.

I gave a dollar.

Why children have to be expert gymnasts and flip on dirty subway floors to make spare money is another question all together.

Behind Mind Exercise

They say one of the keys to staying youthful is keeping your mind active. Part of keeping your mind active is learning new things and mixing up your routines so your daily activities take some thought and thus keeps your brain active and involved. Basically you have to avoid a life that’s set on auto-pilot.

To that end, people are encouraged to do things like brush their teeth with their non-dominant hand. All of a sudden something that’s usually second nature has newness to it. Only downside is your teeth may not get as clean but you just started your day more aware and mentally active than normal.

I suggest you take this approach and bump it up a bit. Try "cleaning up" "aisle 2" with your non-dominant hand. I tried it and it’s like learning to walk again. The ramifications of not doing a good job are obviously grave and scary for you and your loved ones. However, you will be exercising muscles, neurons and synapses that have long been dormant. Try it for a few days…at home, of course. You don’t want to be the person holding up the Starbucks bathroom line because you’re “going left.”

Give it a whirl and report back to me. Imagine the possibilities. First switching hands and maybe down the road writing that novel you’ve always wanted to write.

One more thing…save this technique switch for a tame “movement.” If you’re purging from a White Castle run, you might want to stick with what you know.

Hope Floats

I have another entry to add to the list of things that I have done and you have not. :-) If you’re keeping score at home, you can go ahead and add: Snorkeling with Sister Sledge in Turks and Caicos to your score card. Is your face broke? Because, you definitely need to fix it…hehe

I doubled up on flotation devices and wore a body suit and a life vest. I couldn’t go 3 feet under water even if I wanted to. I basically turned myself into a bar of ivory soap. Sinking was not an option. I'm all about floating. Even on airplanes, if the middle seat is open, I always look at the other person and with my eyes tell them "The middle cushion is MY flotation device". I can barely swim and I never seemed to get the floating thing down. I blame bone density and low body fat percentage (holla!). So I had to play it safe. I also think of my mom when I’m in those situations. How distraught would she be if something happened to me while off in a place she can’t pronounce…

MY MOM: You’re going where?! Please be safe down there in Kinkos.
ME: Okay Ma, I will be. You want me to make you some color copies or bind a presentation while I’m there?
MY MOM: What?
ME: Nevermind.

On another note, our guides were all black. Caribbean blokes, who all swam like fish. Another excuse struck from the books. So if you’re keeping score. Blacks can swim and we can be President.

Shout out to Sister Sledge for being so cool and for officially dubbing me the “Greatest Dancer”

And a massive thanks and respect to Baron Vaughn for giving me the gig. I hope to pay it forward one day.

A Friend of Mime

So, I have one more thing to add to the list of things I've done and you haven't. Let's review the list: I've met a monkey, served on the panel to determine Indianapolis' best wings, watched a boxing match with Mickey Rourke (at his house with 3 other guys), ate mystery meat stew made by the locals from a big pot in Afganistan, went to a South African precinct after my friend got punched (long story), had high tea at the Penisula Hotel in Hong Kong, the list goes on...
My latest conquest? I had a conversation with a mime. That's right, a mime in costume with make-up on, spoke to me. I was at a commercial audition and he spoke to me in the bathroom. I think it still counts because he was in costume. After he spoke he gave me a look as if to say..."Doh!"

ME: Too late. You spoke already. Save the trapped in the box routine for someone who hasn't heard your voice...Larry.

People are usually comfortable around me. I'm just easy to approach I guess. Case in point: an elderly Japanese lady, who didn't speak English, came up and asked me for the time...In Little Tokyo!

Maybe I just look like someone who knows what time it is.

Century Club

Did you know that just because you're 100 years old and it's your birthday doesn't mean you necessarily get a shout out from Willard Scott on the Today Show? I was shocked too. I figured, there's not that many people who make it to that milestone so the Today show big up must be a right of century passage. That's not the case. I was watching recently and Willard Scott was doing the Smuckers, old as dirt, role call and several of the people had made several attempts before being chosen. One lady was 104 and on her fourth try she got the nod and the mention on Today. Four times!?! What if this lady was hanging on simply to get her moment of glory? What if she was ready to let go and see all her friends in the sweet hereafter but had to stay alive because the one thing she wanted above all else, to hear Willard Scott utter her name, kept alluding her.

Edith Beckford from Spokane Washington: Everything on my body hurts. I take 40 pills a day. My pills take pills. Why won't Willard Scott say my name so I can rest and see my dear Seymore again?...Apple sauce? Again?!

Reaching 100 should be like pre-schoolers playing soccer....Everybody's a winner. And if the segment has to run long then take some of Roker's minutes. Or lose the weather all together*. The weather is everywhere. At this point, how could you not know the weather? It's on the bottom of screens, on the internet, the radio...I'm sure in a few years the option of having the current weather display in your eyelids will be available.
Let's make room for everybody in the Century Club to get a shout. As long as we don't cut the Los Angeles local weather in the morning on NBC. Elita Loresca can take up as much time as she wants.

* I love me some Al Roker so i'm not suggesting totally cutting out good ole Al.

Yes We Can

Well, I’ve lived to see a black president. Someone cue the flying pig. It’s rare that someone can fully inspire simply by the example they set. President-Elect Barack Obama is truly that person. I’m proud of America for trying something new. The definition of insanity, as defined by Einstein, is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. And why not try that new thing when it’s such a glaring beacon of positivity, tolerance, intelligence and consistent excellence.

This historic victory inspires me not only to believe but also to work harder. They said Barack wasn’t black enough. Then they said he was too black. Readers, I’ve been labeled not black enough. Being from the Coney Island section of Brooklyn that label has always bothered me. Have I not endured enough to get a pass? I hope to not let it bother me anymore. I’m just going to go about my work with conviction and love.

To my black brothers and sisters, we now have license to be great without the worry of not being black enough. And for my black brothers and sisters who think keeping it real means being scary, loud or "hard"…does it? Our great grandparents knew how to act. In fact they had to know how to act. Their safety depended on it. Not everyone can be as articulate as Obama but we can all be our own personal best and care for our fellow man.

Born a minorty?......Not a problem
No dad? .............. Not a problem
Funny Name?..........Not a problem

You can overcome it all through love, hard work and embracing people from all walks of life. I think this can be applied to any endeavor or profession.
And to white supporters and all other non -black supporters. Thanks for the faith you have shown. Like all other social progess in our history it would not be possible without the support and sweat of progressive white folks who choose to be inclusive, even if that means catching flack from friends and family. Doing the right thing even when it doesn't immediately benefit you is the true sign of a just person.

I’ll step down off my soapbox. I'm not sure why I wrote an acceptance speech but it came to my heart and I typed it out. Sorry if a bit of self righteousness oozed out. It's not my normal way. But there's nothing normal about this day. Ice Cube put it best :"Today was a good day."

This momentous occasion has also inspired me to write my manifesto (more on that in the future.) I hope this inspires you to do something you have wanted to do for a while.

Dress for Success

Dress for Success

So there's a comic I know who wears a kilt on stage. I'm not sure if I could pull it off but I was instantly envious of his setup. Los Angeles is hot. The valley is even hotter.* How sweet would it be for me to let my boys breathe a bit? I definitely appreciate it when women wear skirts and dresses. And don't even get me started on sundresses. So I definitely want women to keep this practice up.

But when you think from a function point of view, it's us men who need the freedom a dress or skirt offer more than women do. Other cultures have realized this and made provisions for men, and more importantly for their "boys" to be free of pantalones. The Scotts came up with the whole kilt thing. Middle eastern men wear long thobes**. But the whole point is to free yourself of restriction. But here in the good ole US of A only eccentric millionaires get to enjoy the comfort of unrestricted "boys." A mechanic can't show up to work with a skirt on but a multi-platinum selling artist can walk into a four star restaurant wearing a muumuu*** and get seated instantly. Meanwhile our aforementioned mechanic can no longer get auto parts delivered because the whole car community has blackballed him. Meanwhile the rocker is sending back his lobster because it's not from right part of Maine. Meanwhile... you get my point.

So that leaves me with 3 options. Move to a place wear men can wear "boys" friendly clothes, become a millionaire or, what I will most likely do, keep living under this oppressive "boys" unfriendly regime and keep wearing pants and sometimes shorts.

Shout out to Steve Kimbro****, A black man by the way, for being a trail blazer and wearing skirts in a time when it wasn't ok. Thanks brah! I respect you and we owe you but for the time being...you're on your own!

*San Fernando Valley, widely reffered to as "The Valley" is the northern part of LA county just on the other side of the Hollywood Hills. It's typically 10 degrees hotter than the rest of L.A. on any given day. So take what Al Roker says for L.A. and add ten baby.

** Thobes Long loose traditional dresses sometime worn by Saudi men
http://www.desertstore.com/pages/mensclothing.html

***muumuu - a loose often long dress having bright colors and patterns and adapted from the dresses originally distributed by missionaries to the native women of Hawaii

**** Steve Kimbro. A brother fighting the good fight
http://web.mac.com/stevenekimbrough/iWeb/Steven%20E%20Kimbrough%20-%20Comedian/Steven's%20Comedy%20Bio.html

Hard Come, Easy Go

So my new radio that I recently blogged about is history. It was stolen from my car right in my parking lot. And I don’t even live in a bad neighborhood. At least I thought I didn’t. I think it just reminds us that there are no victimless crimes. Only victims you don’t meet. But if a guy screams “who the @#^$ stole my radio!” in the woods does anyone hear him? I’m not sure but I know he doesn’t hear his radio. The effed up part is that the face plate of the radio was removable but I thought it was cool in my somewhat busy gated parking structure. I’ve taken the face plate off in many situations but like with regular accidents, it’s close to home that you have to worry about.

I spent 5 years rockin’ with my stock radio with no CD, tape or MP3 player and my 6 presets. I finally upgrade a hair just so I can listen to Estelle with no fuzziness and not a month later I get jacked. Maybe the secret to safety is not having anything but I hardly think driving a Saturn Ion, with automatic nothing is flossing. People always rob other people on their level. How many times do you think a Kennedy’s radio got jacked in the last 10 years? If you’re ‘bout it, why not go after some real cake? Robin Hood was a dying breed. And worst of all they took my mp3 player with Lily Allen on it and over a hundred of my comedy shows. So if you hear a car jacker doing my routine, call the cops pronto.

I had a 2GB flash drive in my car that they didn’t notice so a big middle finger and a hardy “nah nah nah nah nah” to the thieves on that one. Here’s the kicker, my original Saturn radio was in the trunk and they didn’t take it (what a slap in the face). So I have the option of plugging that baby back in. Like my new radio was a $200 audio vacation and now I’m back home to the static I’m used to. I guess my new radio was a nice place to visit but apparently I can't live there.

Since when is Gum Illegal?

I recently purchased some delectable Starbucks mint gum. And by delectable I mean overpriced. Saying delectable makes me feel a tad bit better about paying the same for Starbucks gum that I pay for a sandwich at 7-11. Actually neither one is a very good idea…

MY WALLET: You're really buying gourmet gum?! I guess you want me to be empty.
MY STOMACH: A sandwich from 7-11?! I can handle it but I shouldn't have to! I'd rather be empty.

The latest Starbucks gum container looks like a slim cell phone. Which got me to thinking...What if I drove around holding the Starbucks gum case to my ear here in; they just implemented a hands free driving policy, California. And when the cop pulls me over I can show him it was gum all along and say…

DWAYNE: Is there a problem officer? Since when is chewing gum illegal?

Would I still get the ticket? Would the laugh be worth the beating?
If anyone wants to give this a try and report back to me, that would be awesome.

QSN: Why has gum packaging become so fancy? On the plus side it kind of makes me feel like James Bond but it's only so long you can pretend your gum package is a GPS/stun-gun combo. At the end of the day it's just gum. What's next, Lipstick on a pig?

I’ve Gone Hollywood

So I’m sure by now many of my faithful blog readers know I drive a Saturn. You may also know that my car is like a sub base model. It’s like they took a base model as said “It’s just not base enough…base, how low can we go?” How low? The windows are rotator cuff exercisers, the doors locks are manual and don’t speak to each other and my radio is just that a radio. No CD, no tape deck, no mp3 input, just 6 preset station options to go crazy with ( when you think party you have to think of P. Diddy, Dennis Rodman and me…not necessarily in that order) Oh yeah, and it’s a stick shift.

So up until now I’ve always plugged my mp3 player into a small portable radio transmitter that will play in your car on an empty radio station. That worked out as well Terrell Owens did in Philly.

JEOPARDY CONTESTANT: What is “not at all”?
ALEX TREBEK: Correct. We would have also accepted: “horribly” and “Nigga please”

I’m on my fifth one and they all suck, even the digital ones. Especially the digital ones! Because digital is supposed to be code for “doesn’t suck”.

SHOPPER: I don’t think I want a punch in the face
SALESMAN: You sure?,it’s digital?
SHOPPER: Great, I’ll take it!…Is my chin out far enough?
SALESMAN: Perfect. You’re going to be glad you went with the High Def chin check.
.
The transmitters always play with a little static you have to will yourself to ignore. Or, they relinquish station control as the empty station somehow becomes full and never to anything you want to hear. You’re driving enjoying Lily Allen’s “Smile” and suddenly you’re listening to a report on the South African Meerkat. Basically, I haven’t had 30 minutes of continuous problem free Lily Allen listening without gadget fidgeting.

Anyhoo, I broke down and got an aftermarket radio installed in my car today. Et Tu Dwayne? It has an mp3 plug in slot, plays mp3/CD discs and can even take in a USB flash drive. I’m cooking with gas now. I feel like a sell out because the ‘04’ and I were to suppose to go all the way without any upgrades. Are my roughing it days are over? I did the math and all those crappy mp3 transmitters probably cost over 3/4 what my radio cost. Plus, I need to listen to my comedy when I drive. Vanity knows no bounds J

I hope you don’t think less of me. Hey, at least I still get a shoulder workout at every toll booth and parking attendant booth.

I come to bury my stock radio, not praise it…

QSN: Please send questions for my video blog. Got questions? I got fake answers!

QSN = Quick Side Note

Sloppy Copy

A while back my PC crashed. Luckily I was under warranty so it was a nuisance more than it was a tragedy. Anticipating a crash, I decided to just throw some files unto my external hard drive for safe measure. The “time remaining info” on the file copy went berserk. It kept drastically changing as if the computer had something else to do. All of a sudden my computer turned into a sheisty contractor, giving bad estimates and going over budget. At one point my computer said it would take 41,661 days to copy the files.

DWAYNE: Now you look here computer. I’ve copied files before and I know how long it should take.

Since I’m no pushover, the computer agreed to copy the files in 32,611 days instead. But I drive a hard bargain my friends. I got him down to 21,452 days and 19. Great, my files will be copied just in time for me to witness the birth of my great grandchildren.

I think I could copy all the files writing with my left foot quicker than that. Clearly, this was a mistake on my computer’s part and a sign of things to come with that machine. It just seems that the machine would be able to sense how silly and unacceptable that amount of time is, even if accurate, and just say time remaining not available. Plus, if I wait 21,452 days for the files to copy, then that’s on me.

CONCERNED FRIEND: Whatever happened to Dwayne.
FRIEND IN THE KNOW: He went mad waiting for some files to copy. He won’t stop waiting. He lost his family and everything. We tried an intervention but he just kept rocking back and forth saying “Just 19,440 days left”

Hi, I’m a PC…. and I’m Senior Citizen.

Like Looking in a Mirror

Like Looking in a Mirror

I was at an audition for a TV role a while back, sitting calmly in the waiting room hoping the others in the room couldn’t see my vitals skyrocketing as my turn to go into the room neared. Somehow I’m calm when I go in for commercial auditions though. I either don’t care or only care about the process and not the result; as I have a sense that the factors that go into their selection are too many and too elusive to concern myself with. This approach has probably helped me book commercials. I haven’t been able to transfer that calm to movie and TV auditions though. Commercials are the girl I don’t pay much attention to who somehow still thinks I’m rad. And TV and movies is the girl I would cut my pinky toe nail off for but doesn’t like me “that way”.

But I digress. This blog isn’t about my audition woes. No my friends, this tale has a happy ending. Well, not I booked the TV show happy but still, I didn’t leave in a defeated sweat. As I sat in the waiting room, a white lady of maybe 45 walked out from her audition. She walked by me, did a double take and came back to my chair. At this point her actions warranted an explanation and before I could ask she said….

WOMAN: I was adopted and I see you and me have the same nose so you never know maybe we’re related from past relatives or distant cousins.

She was glowing at the possibility. We had a heart felt chuckle and she was on her way. At first I had a tinge of sadness for her, that she has these thoughts always running in her mind because she doesn’t know her real parents. But then I thought, it must me nice to make-up a family in your head, probably way more intriguing than the truth. Besides, maybe she’s right. I do have an odd nose and we’re both actors. Why not stop there though? Maybe our great granddad to the 26th power was Caesar himself. (I’ve been told I have a Roman nose) And props to her for picking me as her fantasy family member. Way to be progressive and non-cliché all at once. As I started to formulate a family tree in my head that could include both me and my long lost cousin I heard….

CASTING LADY: Dwayne? Come in Thanks for coming. Any questions…

If I don’t get picked maybe my “cousin” will.
We weren’t going in for the same role BTW

Crazy is as Crazy Does

Where would my blog be without the 99 cents store and Los Angeles’ and New York’s transient populations? Score this one for the transients.* So, I was at a coffee shop a few days ago and a man was outside mumbling to himself. Did I mention the flowers? Yes he was holding a bushel of flowers. Now when I say mumble, I don’t mean…“did I cut the stove off?” type mumbling. No, I mean a full on conversation with himself albeit indiscernible and inaudible to passersby. So, mumbling in this case is more about my ability to hear him and less about him trying to be discrete.

I stepped outside for a second and he turned his attention toward me. He offered a flower, I think. I couldn’t understand his words but he extended a flower toward me. I of course declined as I don’t trust flowers from unknown sources.

QSN: Every Since I saw The Invasion of the Body Snatchers movie I never sniff or handle flowers from disreputable suppliers. (You see, in that movie the body snatchers entered the body through flowers. A person would sniff the flowers and next thing you know a monster is popping out their stomach screaming “What you talkin’ about Willis?!”)

Besides my reluctance to handle flowers, I also could not understand a word this man spoke. But his tone seemed friendly and heartfelt. I couldn’t tell if he was talking gibberish (or, to be fair, his own made up language. I mean Elfin isn’t gibberish after all) or an actual language spoken in another country.

Maybe he was part of a crazy transient exchange program, like a semester outside abroad. Maybe there’s an English speaking transient in Prague right now sharing his theory on cardboard’s plan to take over the world to a Czech, not understanding but nodding politely while writing a blog about it.

*Transient – Politically correct way of saying homeless. Or perhaps a less guilt ridden way of saying homeless.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homelessness

**Invasion Of the Body Snatchers
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0077745/synopsis

QSN – Quick Side Note

Video Blog 5/Comedians on Call

Comedians on Call from backstage at Late Night with Conan O'Brien.

Video Blog 5/ Comedians on Call

Dwayne Perkins Video Blog 4

Dwayne Perkins Video Blog 3

Comedians on Call 3 with help from Butch Bradley and Dan Gabriel. Live from Okinawa. Enjoy!

George Carlin

We lost George Carlin earlier this week. For those of you not familiar with his work, I urge you to check out his great legacy of stand-up and writing. Before I even became a comic or knew I wanted to or could be a stand-up, George Carlin blew my mind and offered new ways of thinking and being. George Carlin was and will always be what so many profess to be but aren’t, an artist and person whose life, art and words were always consistent, fair and true; even if they weren’t popular or soothing. His points were always reflective of how he felt and never just what people wanted to hear. And he did it all with insanely efficient razor sharp wit, mad passion and massive charm. In this day and age so much art is designed using reverse engineering and marketing plans and people make hollow points to people they know already agree with them. We should all learn from the example he set. He spoke truth and let that alone be his reward.

He also never tried to pass on gratuitousness as provocative-ness. I see so many comics feigning anger or making obvious points with attitude and smugness that would suggest their taking risks or pushing the envelope but their only standing in place loudly. It’s not my goal to expose comics but more to shine the light on Carlin’s greatness. He paved the way for the rest of us to talk about whatever we want and to be brazen and fearless. George Carlin will always be my personal favorite and the world of comedy rests on his tiny shoulders.

We can’t all be Carlin but we can all be true to ourselves and use our mental faculties to question things, ultimately enriching our lives and mankind as a whole.

I had the pleasure of meeting George Carlin. He was kind and friendly and true to the words he spoke on stage.

Thank you Mr. Carlin, there will never be another like you but I for one will forever be inspired by your radiance. We will miss you.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

This is sort of the flip side of a blog I wrote a while back. I went to a Yankee game yesterday (BX Stand up), picture perfect day to catch a ball game (74 and partly cloudy.) Luckily, the Yankees won and I was with one of my laid back homies. What ended pretty well had actually started out quite stressful.

I was running a little late. Not late for the game but late for our meeting time. We wanted to meet 2 hours before the game started because it was cap day at Yankee Stadium. But only the 1st 15 thousand get a cap. Mind you, Yankee stadium holds well over 50 thousand people. I’m typically not a get somewhere 2 hours ahead of time kind of guy. But, I wanted a hat and definitely didn’t want to prevent my buddy from getting a hat. My reason for running late? I tried to sneak in a quick Tae Bo On-Demand session in the morning to “earn” the right to pig out at the game.

So, bad judgment call notwithstanding I run up to the gate to meet my friend with plenty of time to get a hat and chill out before the game started. But, instead of just checking my bag the people at the gate make me go across the street and check my bag in at some random after game pub. There’s some weird no bag policy at Yankee stadium that I still don’t understand as I counted at least 30 bags once I got in. Seems like some racket to help the fledging bag check company across the street.

I try to plea my case but it feels almost like airport security. Like, if I kept protesting, I would’ve been rewarded with a cavity search. And not the kind dentists give you. But they let purses in and certain kinds of bags in. Not like you could ever conceal a weapon in a purse. Or put stolen items in a purse for that matter. Get real Yankee stadium. There’s no way you can handle 30 thousand bags being checked which, to me, indicates that only some are checked thus making the whole thing extremely silly and suspect. In a non driving city like New York sometimes you have to bring all your stuff for the day with you: book, jacket, umbrella, fig newtons etc. So basically my book bag is a socially acceptable man purse. And, since they were letting purses in. I should have been allowed to enter with my…ahem…book bag. Or I could have just bought a purse and risked even greater scrutiny from the New Yorkers.

NEW YORK DUDE: Hey get a load of twinkle toes with the purse over there. Hey, Rupaul, where’s the drag show…

I think not. I run across the street check the bag and run back into the stadium, only to be 5th in line when they ran out of free hats. Keep it together.

Fine, I rarely wear baseball hats anyway, time to enjoy the game get a hot dog and root the pinstripes. I wait in line for 15 minutes to get a hot dog and soda only to be told the hot dogs are not ready. Not ready?! Did you guys not know there was a game today? An hour before the game and they’re not ready. That’s all you have to say? Its one thing to have your quiche in the oven as dinner guests arrive but it’s a travesty to not have hot dogs ready to go for 40 thousand crazed fans that were overcharged and hatless. So I grabbed an ice cream, reversing the order I had in mind.

QSN: Can we stop calling those ice cream dipping dots* the ice cream of the future and just call them the ice cream of today. They’ve been the ice cream of the future for about 15 years now. The jig is up.

Come on Yankees; don’t force me into going to only small market and minor league games. In the end my friend did get a hat, the Yankees won and I look better without a hat anyway.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game
Take 50 bucks for nose bleed seats
Make me check my book bag ‘cross the street
Wait in long line for dogs not ready to eat
Root, Root, Root for the home team
They better win cause I’m damn near bankrupt

Well, it’s 1,2,3 strikes –
Uh hell no! I paid too much to be up in this piece. My beer is warm and I took out a 2nd mortgage for these cold ass chicken fingers. I better see some home runs. I better see the skin ripped off the ball-

At the old ball game

* http://www.dippindots.com/company/

Casing Your Every Move

I ran into an ex neighbor of mine in Starbucks. He shared with me the joys and pains of home ownership. Then we ran the gamut of all the perfunctory small talk and right on unspoken cue he got up to leave, slipping me his business card as he rose. I guess just in case we needed to pick up our weather conversation at a later date. After all, our discourse hadn’t touched upon humidity or barometric pressure.

I actually had no idea what he did for a living. Turns out, he’s a private investigator. His card says “Private Investigator” and he’s not kidding. Very cool. I actually had a parking spot adjacent to a Private Eye, a real life Gumshoe. This is the makings of an action movie trailer……

In a world where the line between good guys and bad guys was blurred…one man set off on his own to re-draw the line. Make the line more distinct…kinda like pro wrestling in the 80’s….anyway… To make the world a better place, he gave up his badge and became….Dwayne’s neighbor- the private eye.

On top of it all, he’s a brother. Wow a black private eye, super hero must be right around the corner. I better get fitted for my tights.

Dwayne Perkins Video Blog 2

Comedians on Call 2. Dwayne on Fame

Comedian on Call...My 1st Video Blog

http://youtube.com/watch?v=xiNXVW9_fe0

A Place for Everything & Everything in It’s Place

Whenever I try to clean my room my bed becomes a holding bay for all the items and paperwork without a home. After everything else is fairly straighten up I'm usually left with a bed full of knick knacks that I don't want to throw away yet have no place to put. Sometimes I just leave them on the bed…indefinitely. Good thing I have a Full size bed. I basically have 2 adjacent twin size beds. Like a 60's sitcom husband and wife. Except, my wife is a PBS programming guide some mango insence I bought in Hawaii 3 years ago but never burned.

QSN:I actually have never burned insence. Why would I ever buy insence? It's just like that Kente clothe vest I copped back in 93. I had to know somewhere deep inside that I would never wear it. Did I think I would get invited to an NAACP African themed awards show?

Tidying up is cool but what I really need is a complete make over. When I do upgrade my stuff, it's going be hard to know where to start. I actually started already though. Your boy got himself a flat screen. Not sure if I really need a 32" LCD High Def TV to watch Seinfeld and Kramer re-runs but what the heck. But now the TV looks like it showed up to the wrong party. Like a guy in a tux who shows up at a Hawaiian shirt kegger. Because of the TV I had to get a nice stand to put it on. But now my nightstand has to go. It's bringing down the property value. And that cardboard box can no longer double as a desk. This TV is sure costing me a lot of money.

Maybe I could get one of those TV shows to come and fix up my place. Although, I don't think my story is compelling enough. Maybe they'll come once they hear my latest announcement.

***I'M STARTING A VIDEO BLOG****

That's right! Hence the room clean. Although, I may be reporting live from my bathroom or living room. Any whoo. I figure I would take questions from the masses. And by massed I mean 20 people who read my blog and each week answer one of them via video. The questions can be about anything: relationships, economics, politics, sports… you get the picture. So please email or Myspace me with your questions.
Here goes nothing….

QSN: Quick Side Note

What I Really Want to Know Is…

So there’s this guy on the Today show last week with an incredible memory.* He remembers everything in his life from age 11 on, and he’s probably in his late forties. He remembers the time, date and day of every event in his life. He also can tell you things like what day of the week it will be when he turns seventy-five. He knows all the upcoming leap years and lunar eclipses. All this without any thought.

A guy with this kind of mind must work for NASA or teach at MIT right? But when Matt Lauder asks memory Man what he does for a living, he says he’s between jobs. I know slackers with negative motivation who don’t go a week without landing a gig. Why didn’t memory man lie? Say you’re a consultant. Say you’re working on a project. Say you’re a freelancer. Heck, Say you’re an actor or a comedian. But please don’t be on national TV touting your mental prowess and follow it up by saying you’re unemployed.

He should just rent himself out for Trivial Pursuit or those trivia games in the bars. I would pay him to feed me answers into an earpiece.

MY FRIEND1: Why is Dwayne betting on Trivial Pursuit?
MYFRIEND2: So unlike Dwayne but I’m gonna take his money because how much could he possibly know about Australian Aborigine culture?
DWAYNE: I believe the answer is Corroboree. Pay up!!... What?...Nothing’s in my ear. Ok…game over…time for you guys to leave.

I just hope this guy’s connection with his past hasn’t robbed him of his future…or present for that matter.

*Memory Man Rick Baron
http://www.usatoday.com/news/health/2008-05-12-super-memory_n.htm

Oh My Stars

I am writing this blog from my hotel room in Dubai. You know what it is. Anyway, it's a beautiful place and my hotel room over looks the beach and another hotel called the Burj Al Arab. It's supposedly the world's only 7 star hotel. Mind you, I think five stars is the highest they go. I'm not sure what they did/do to skip 6 and go straight to 7 stars. I mean my hotel is probably 4 or 5 stars and I can barely do anything myself. They're accomodating to the point of annoyance.

Ultimately, there's got to be diminishing returns on these stars. One, I can only imagine how much a 7 star hotel costs. (i'm not paying for my room btw. You know what it is:-) Two, the more stars you have the closer you get to not being alive or maybe being an infant. At 10 stars someone baths you and puts a diaper on you. At 11, they chew your food for you then transfer it to your mouth. 14 stars you get pushed around on a gurney all day. I mean there's luxury and then there's high cost butt kissing.

I never even understood turn down service. They come in your room, leave a chocolate and crease the corner of your bed spread. Ohhh, that's how you get inside the sheets. All this time at home I've been sleeping on top of the comforter with a jacket on. Turn down service is like having a person just dedicated to keeping your bookmark. Ahh, I'm done with my reading tonight. Belvedere, you mind making a crease on page 216?

Turn down service is just an excuse for them to come check your mini bar. How about they make the mini bar reasonable and they won't have to pay someone to spy on you every night. The money they lose on the 600% mark-ups they would make back on not paying the nightly chocolate spy.Maybe I would be singing a different tune if I was sitting on a heated toilet seat or had a bed that smells of Apple Blossoms and makes you have happy dreams. Maybe.

QSN:Shout out to all the great people in Dubai and all their help and kindess. Especially my driver who helped get find a power plug for my laptop.

QSN:The picture was taken from my room's balcony. Don't be hatin'.

QSN -Quick Side Note

Jane, Stop This Crazy Thing

Earlier this year, I was at my local gym on a gorgeous Los Angeles day. This was the kind of day you call your friends and family back east and brag about.

LA BRAGGER: You shoveled snow today? That’s too bad. It’s picture perfect here. I’m in shorts and a tank top and a butterfly landed on my hand just as 8 supermodels came up and asked me for directions. They thought the butterfly was sooo cute...or was that me they said was cute? I can’t remember but I’m hanging with them later so I’ll ask them then….Did I mention the smell of Lilac wafting through the air?

The weather is Los Angeles’ ace in the hole. It’s the one thing that almost offsets the traffic, earthquakes, mudslides, fires and flakes.

I completed my light-weight but high rep circuit training and was about to leave and soak up some LA rays. On my way out I noticed a long line for the treadmills. On a picture perfect day people were waiting in line to run in place. When I say perfect, I don’t mean hot. I mean perfect, 72 and sunny with a warm breeze. These people are akin to the mice that won’t leave their cage even when it’s open.

I didn’t even have a gym membership my first 5 years in LA. I only got one to get my light-weight pump on when I’m on the road.

These are the same people who go to a gallery to look at pictures of the landscape they just drove through to get to the gallery.

Please, no comments about impact on the knees. So Cal has more parks than you can shake a Red Vine at.

At least George Jetson had the whole no atmosphere excuse for his treadmill escapades. *

*Pic of George Jetson on the treadmill:
http://www.animationusa.com/picts/hbpict/hp02/2_Jane-Stop.jpg

Pretty Crazy in Pink

You can file this under “Only in LA.” I recently saw a woman wearing all pink at a commercial audition. (We weren’t going in for the same thing) Everything was pink: her outfit, accessories and even her dog. Yes, she had a Pink dog. My uncanny ability to ease drop on nearby conversations was not well served. With no headphones or way to stop my brain and ears from teaming up, I was at their mercy to capture then process the Lady in Pink’s conversation. Without a hint of irony Ms Pink told another lady waiting that she dyes her dog with Beet juice once a month to achieve the Pink coat.

The really sad part: the other woman was intrigued and I’m pretty sure was making a mental note of the beet brew. So Ms Pink is spreading her gospel. I guess I’m spreading her gospel too. I trust none of my readers are going to use this beet juice knowledge for evil.

This is a clear case of style gone wild. There’s simply not enough hugging in this world. Please hug someone today. You might save a dog from a beet juice baptism and a doggie sweater. Now you know why the dog is Man’s best friend.

QSN: The dog was a poodle. But you knew that. I wrote a blog about beets a while back. It’s actually good to see someone find some use for beets, aka the most disgusting food known to man. **

**Blog Warp to my previous post on beets.

Trans Trucker

Last week I saw a guy in Starbucks in LA, a normal trucker looking guy with a beard, gray shirt and jeans on. What’s so odd about that you ask? Well, on top of what I already described this guy also had on a long brown wig and he had boobs. Is he butch or just the laziest transvestite in the history of men dressing fabulous? Other than the boobs and wig he was as normal and guy acting as a guy can be. It was like The Cable guy meets Rupaul. At one point he asked someone to watch his laptop while he went to the restroom, but without a hint of acknowledging his freakish appearance. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he had boobs. He even had a deep man voice he wasn’t trying to hide. There was nothing feminine about him other than, well…the boobage and wig. I felt like telling him he had boobs the same way you tell a friend they’ve got mustard on their cheek.

ME: Dude you got a little boob stuff going on right there….No, it’s still there…to the left...here just let me get it…

The best part of living in LA and being from New York...not only did people not care they didn’t even acknowledge him. Trucker guy with boobs? Outstanding. Now back to my Rooibos tea.

Now contrast this guy with the things that make you self conscious. Not even close.

99 problems But Inflation Ain’t One…Hit Me!

My friend recently called me up in arms saying that the 99cents* store had gone up in price. Turns out what my friend the alarmist was referring to was a few items that used to be 2 for a $.99 now cost 59 cents each. I didn’t have the heart or energy to point out to my friend that 59 cents is less than 99 cents. No, he can take that up with his 2nd grade teacher.

At some point though, won’t the 99 cents store have to change its name to the One dollar and 29 cents store? I mean when cars fly, robot computers cook breakfast for you and gas is $8 dollars a gallon can the 99 cents store still exist? A pair of no name sneakers costs $150 dollars but I can still get a half gallon of baby powder for a buck? It doesn’t add up. Or maybe the product sizes will just get smaller….

CASHIER: Ok...a slice of bologna and a small hand full of Pepperidge farm goldfish crackers…That’ll be One dollar and 98 cents, sir.

QSN: The 99cents stores in Los Angeles are way different than the ones I’ve seen in other cities. In New York for instance, the dollar store will have stuff like faded Dukes of Hazzard Placemats, or broken Joey Lawrence lunch boxes. I write about the LA 99 cents store because it’s a place for real bargains. And they’re even traded on the Stock Market. 99 cents a share :-) And no, they don’t pay me.

QSN: Quick Side Note.

* http://www.99only.com/

I was recently cruising down the 405 in beautiful Los Angeles...rewind…Ok, I was recently in bumper to bumper traffic on the 405 with my windows up to reduce my intake of the infamous LA Smog. I was perusing through my preset radio stations searching for the perfect song to take my mind off my potentially frustrating stagnant state. The batteries in my radio transmitter that plays my mp3 player on an empty radio station were dead. So I was at the mercy of my factory installed 6 preset radio sans CD player, satellite radio or even cassette player for that matter.

Now, I don’t hit a good song and stop. I’m too optimistic/hard to please to have my in-car radio strategy be that simple. I go through all the presets and sample what’s being played. Only after ensuring I know the best song currently playing (with at least a minute of play time left of course) then and only then do I settle in to the best song available and get my groove on.

This can be frustrating to passengers in the car with me but luckily on this day I was alone and in rare preset jump around mode. Then, I came across Soul to Soul’s "Back To Life" and from the beginning at that.
However do you want me….However do you need me...

This song was the perfect ailment to my traffic woes. But you have to play by your own rules, right? What was I to do? Could I really do better that Soul to Soul at this very moment? After, letting the intro play (I’m not a masochist) I decided to let it ride and change the station. I mean it was possible that "Midnight train to Georgia", "Let’s Get It On", "Ain’t No Stopping Us Now" or maybe even some MJ might be playing.

With a press of my index finger I jumped to another preset only to hear Soul to Soul’s Keep on Moving blaring, also from the beginning. I was in a can’t lose and can’t win situation all at once. Either way I would jam out with a bonafide crazy joint* and miss out on a song that was bananas.

In the end I went with "Keep On Moving"…yellow is the color of sunrays.

My system’s not perfect.

*Crazy Joint - a really good song. Usually one that makes you want to move.

Deuces Wild

Most people only ”go” away from home only if they are in a dire situation. I on the other hand prefer “going” away from home. I only need moderate cleanliness and I’m good. And by moderate I mean nothing alive or moving.

I see the downside of not controlling the environment where the deed takes place. For me though the benefits outweigh the danger. You save a gang on TP. You save on water and possible plumbing problems, depending on how you get down. And you delay when you next have to clean up your spot. Plus, you save your home from the toxic avenger (aka - the output from the garbage most of us eat.) If I have Jack in the Box, then spicy Thai food and follow that up with refried beans, I want to find a locale as far away from my home as possible. I don’t shame easily. Plus, you can always leave a public restroom with a look of disgust, blaming it on the guy that came in after you. You just have to make a production of it.

ME: That guy currently in there needs to see a doctor or something. That guy has issues, the one that came in after me, that is. It’s like he had spicy Thai food and washed it down with refried beans! Damn dude have some mercy on the rest of us! You can’t take some people nowhere.

I have done my business in the oddest places. I put my resume up against anyone. A cement outhouse in Afghanistan, A bathroom in a South African precinct, no tp btw (that fluffy rabbit still hasn’t forgiven me J, a squatter in Hong Kong. A ratty LA bar with no stall door where anyone who walked in could see my knees.

People fear public speaking more than death. I wonder where public “going” stands on that list.

Baby Mama Sans Drama

I performed in Salt Lake City, Utah last weekend.* The state is 50% Mormon. You may be familiar with Mormonism from those feel-good, do the right thing, love thy neighbor commercials back in the eighties and nineties…He told the truth..I told the truth…You might also know from just living or from the HBO show Big Love that Mormonism allows for multiple wives. Most Mormons don’t get down like that anymore but there are a few holdovers from back when it was “acceptable.”

This led me to an idea…I know many guys from around my way in Brooklyn who have several Baby Mamas. Seems it would add more credence and dignity to their situation if they started telling people they were Mormon. I’m not trifling, just devoted. People are way more understanding if what you’re doing has a name and a group attached to it. One guy holding a sign and screaming is crazy. A bunch of people, holding a bunch of signs and screaming is protesting.

And if anyone points out that baby mamas aren’t wives, then the guys can say that they’re buffet Mormons. I dabble…

*Big up to Wiseguys Comedy Club