I Tan Corrected

So I'm at my gym the other day and I got an offer that I could resist. A girl from the tanning salon in the same strip mall as my gym was handing out half-off coupons. As she handed it to me I of course laughed and thought to myself, the tanning promotion girl's got a keen sense of humor and impeccable timing.

Maybe she was hitting on me or just being silly. Or maybe she saw me and said to herself, “How can I make it into his blog?” As she handed me the coupon, as if for good measure, she said:

TANNING GIRL: Maybe you can go even out your tone.

Or, maybe she figured there's one born every minute so why not throw out a net and see if she pulls in a sucker. Perhaps she wasn't exercising her sense of humor but working on saying outrageous things with a straight face. Which, as we should know by now, can make a person millions. I mean if you can sell tanning services to a black man then the Eskimos don't stand a chance when you come with your tidings of ice. Perhaps this Manhattan Beach, California girl had Philadelphia style hustle.

I was almost amused to the point of taking her up on her offer. See the silliness through to the end. Almost. I am often encouraged by my commercial auditions where all the other guys are white and somehow they bring me in. It's like the breakdown* called for everyday white guys and Dwayne. I'm flattered that they feel they can sell their products with the likes of me without it necessarily being a “Black” commercial...Cuz they're not so stingy**.

But I think I will self impose and draw the line at tanning booths. The only booth you'll see me in will be in a diner or a late night karaoke bar.

*Breakdown – description of a role that a producer is casting for

**quote from the silliest McDonald's commercial ever. Hopefully Tongue and Cheek, hopefully. Also check out my blog about being recognized in Mcdonald’s.

Two All Beef Patties...

A few weeks ago I found myself in a Mcdonald's in New York City at 2am. Not my proudest moment or the best way to treat myself but the Golden Arches beckoned me. The Apple Pocket tastes better at 2am (pie is something you eat with a fork.) In fact, as the night passes, the fried apple slab continues to get tastier every hour until the Sun comes up and with it rises your better judgment.

I'm in line waiting to order my setback when the the guy in front of me, having ordered his nuggets with an extra side sauce with some difficultly and slurred words, turned his attention to me. Did he need me to supplement his meal? As I looked at him looking at me, he did the drunk finger in the air as you ponder move. There's no telling where that finger's going to come down and what it's going to do. On this night the finger came down into a point in my direction. Followed by...

GUY: I know you! You're funny dude. Hey this guy is famous! What are you doing in McDonald's?!

Why I'm getting a meal I'm going to instantly regret, of course. Isn't that what we're all doing here? I enjoy getting recognized from time to time and my Mickey D's cohort was friendly and clearly a fan. I wonder if I get any more “famous” if I'll have to give up occasional 2am Mcdonald's runs.

MY STOMACH: Come on man get famous already!...Please!

Or maybe I'll be given the coordinates to the hidden McDonald's that other famous people go to. Then I could enjoy my Apple Pocket in the VIP section. Denzel, are you gonna finish those fries?

Nothing Honey

I'm done with honey that doesn't come in a bottle shaped like a bear. Honey in a regular jar just doesn't cut it for me anymore. Give me a bear or give me sugar. Besides the obvious perk of pretending the bear can talk and chopping it up with him while you sip your tea...

ME: Wow Teddy, this tea is awesome. Thanks man! By the way what's Miss Buttersworth like?

TEDDY: I only met her once at this condiment party. She was cool. Very sweet girl.

ME: That's good. I hate it when famous people are jackasses in real life...

There is also the matter of honey application. The squeeze is exponentially better than the pour. When I pour honey out of a jar or use a spoon to scoop it out, I end up with honey all over the place. Throughout the day I'll find honey in and on odd places: my elbow (even though I had on a long sleeve shirt), on my shoes, on my kitchen counter tops, underneath my bed...

The bear shaped bottle is not only cute, it's efficient and clean. Although, bees may be going extinct so honey in any shaped bottle may soon be hard to come by. Save the bees please.

Save The Bees

No Librarians Please

If you're like me, you have certain professions that you just get along with and others that you clash with. It's implausible that it could hold true across the board but, with rare exceptions, I don't get along with librarians. We suffer each other but it's always tense. Even our 30 second interactions seem to have 30 minutes of suspense. Like we're on thin ice and even graze of a pebble will make the whole thing cave in. It might be my natural inclination to challenge rules vs. their natural inclination to blindly enforce any and all rules.

Book storage takes order but then again the books don't have legs. To be fair to Librarians, I actually have no problem with Librarians. What?! Yes, see the people at the reference desk of a Library who help you find books and deftly explain the Dewey Decimal system 60 times a day are actually “Librarians”. They're usually helpful and friendly. Whereas the people who check out your books are not technically Librarians. The clerk's 'tudes may come from being called Librarians all day but knowing deep inside that they in fact are not. But I'm not bitter. So actually, I don't get along with Library worker people.

I get along with Flight attendants quite swimmingly. It would take a long scroll to list the preferential treatment I've gotten from Flight Attendants. From being bumped up, to free bags of Tazo tea to once even being consoled because I looked sad, flight attendants dig me. They don't “mile high club” dig me but I'm happy for the extra drinks and free snack boxes.

I have a good history with drivers of limos and car services but my relationship with Taxi cab drivers is touch and go. Baristas are ambivalent toward me, even though I usually tip a whole dollar on a 2 dollar tea. I actually have a half way decent relationship with cops. (that admission stays here)

I get along with comedians, obviously. But I like musicians more. I wonder if we could generate a new dating site based not on how you describe yourself but what professions you get along with.

Oh you like Crane Operators and Bakers too? It's Kismet I tell ya.

Pull Over Jesus

A few nights ago, while driving down Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles, I saw two cops, pulled over, and questioning Jesus. I assume it wasn't THE Jesus but then again you never know. Hollywood is littered with look-a-likes who, for a nominal fee, will take a picture with you. Don't think Disneyland with Mickey Mouse welcoming you to the happiest place on earth. No, think a drunk guy in a dirty Shrek costume who smells like an actual ogre and has a yet to be named condition that causes him to spit loogies every 3 and a half minutes. None of these photo-op guys are sanctioned by any official body and they probably wear the costumes to dodge their arrest warrants.

I gather the guy currently portraying Jesus was on his way home from a day of intense character work, tired from all the healing. A method actor no doubt. Maybe he was displaying public drunkenness, or he Jaywalked. I'm thinking he stole a Gatorade from a convenience store. Jesus walks...in and steals. If Hollywood Jesus had any miracles in him the time had come to use them. Cops don't drive the squad car up on the side walk to have nice chats. Still in the back of the cops' mind it's got to be tougher to be a hard ass while looking at Jesus.

COP1: Let me see some ID?

HOLLYWOOD JESUS:My Son, my ID comes from above.

COP2: ID now?! Or we redo the Passion Of Christ. Right here.

COP1: Why is he bleeding from his hands?!

COP2: Okay Jesus...you're free to go and...can you put your finger in this water for me.

Maybe the cops needed some salvation albeit from an actor playing Jesus. I think Hollywood Jesus should rent himself out to people trying to make a point. After he cleans himself up of course. How cool would it be if you got Jesus to appear at just the right moment. Dude, just lend me the money. I'm good for it...what would Jesus do?...Lookie here..why don't we just ask him...I know that's not actually Jesus but that's gotta be a sign...Come on bro just fifty dollars.

Abba Dabba Do

So I saw this report on the pop group Abba recently. Their effect on the world is legendary. Their music? But I come to praise Abba not to bury them. My foot taps when an Abba song comes on (I was going to say “just as much as the next guy”, but what if the next guy is off beat. Or maybe he's doing a syncopated tap.)

No doubt Abba is a major part of the soundtrack of our lives. But this one guy they interviewed had “ABBA” tattooed across his stomach. He proudly showed it off so I don't think he lost a bet or was the victim of sophomoric hijinks. This guy willingly went to a tattoo artist and requested ABBA to be needled across his belly.

QSN: Can we blame the tattoo guy? I mean, a bartender can't serve a drunk person. Shouldn't there at least be a grace period for stupid tattoos? “Sir, are you sure you want a Mambo#5 tattoo?...Why don't you think it over for a few days and come back”.

There is no way to make an Abba tattoo sound cool. It's not a story people want to hear at parties. “I don't mean to cut you off Abba Dude but I'm going back to hear the Insurance Guy's soliloquy on Term versus Universal Life insurance...try the dip.”

At least Mike Tyson has a tattoo of Mao Tse Tsung. Which may not make sense but is so random that it just may make total sense. At the very least people want to hear Mike explain why he got it. Where as with Abba dude you instantly know all you need or would ever want to know. We're all set here Abba Dude.

The craziest part? Abba Dude is a black guy. Nothing wrong with a black guy loving him some Abba. And I say kudos on the stereotype dismantling. But it's a little jarring when someone links themselves to Abba with permanent body ink...When they don't even know them.

Let's hope it was a fake just to get him on TV. Let's hope.

Crystal DNA Ball

Recently on the Today show I saw a DNA expert telling famous people their lineage history. Minus the crystal ball, scarves and sage, it was a lot like a psychic reading. At least with a psychic reading, time will prove whether Madame Lenora is right or wrong. With DNA readings you have to take their word for it. That or get a second opinion. But who wants a second opinion after being told they're the direct lineage of Alexander The Great or have almost identical biological make-up to Julius Caesar.

I don't mean to be cynical but you had to see Meryl Streep's face when she was getting her DNA reading. It was the same look my Aunt Eleanor had when she got her palm read in Soho. Both were like putty in the reader's hand. It's exciting to think of your lineage. You can maybe even gain insight into your idiosyncrasies. Attilah The Hun was my Great to the 30^th power Grand father...No wonder I slap people for no reason.

Way more important than tracing back umpteen generations is how to you treat people today and what you're currently doing with your life. Okay, Shakespeare's blood runs through you and you're a distant relative of Warren Buffet...now what? It might be time to read a book and get that credit score out of the 300s.

I once spoke to my great uncle about my history and the insights he shed were touching and left me feeling better about myself. (shout out to Uncle Rudy) So, no doubt there is value in knowing about your past but even if you don't know your past or your past is not awe-inspiring, you can always choose to make history starting with you. And remember...charity starts at home.

By the way, Meryl Streep is my favorite actress and Eleanor is my favorite aunt.

Alpha Male For Sale

I saw a guy on The Today show on NBC telling another guy how to approach women. He told him to have good posture and walk into a room like he owns it. Bad Boy Swagger in a box. No doubt women like a confident man. I also recently had a group of women tell me the top thing they want from a man is that he be nice. Now when I say oxy, you say moron....Oxy...Moron...Oxy...Moron. I'm not saying a confident strong guy can't be nice but it's more likely that a nice guy may also prove to be confident and strong. He may not demonstrate those traits right away like James Bond. But when you think about it, most of Bond's girls die. High cost to pay for having the “perfect” guy.

Walking into a room like you own it isn't a habit of most “nice” guys. If you're really nice, why would you want to act like you own something that isn't yours? And even if you did “own” the room wouldn't you be a gracious welcoming host?

I say look for nice and hope you find confidence later. That's much better than seeking out confidence and not finding niceness. Then you're left with what has left a bitter taste in the mouth of many a woman: arrogance.

Arrogance and confidence are nearly impossible to differentiate at first. It's like telling a yam from a sweet potato. It's takes a trained eye. That's why you have to seek out good right away. You shouldn't have to excavate for goodness.

When I think back to the times when I had a swagger or pep in my step I was usually scared and overcompensating. When I'm the big dog in a room I don't act like it, I let others show it for me. Of course all this is held over from or cavemen roots. That's why guys all the world over like girls with a 0.7 hip to waist ratio (google it or yahoo it). But we don't live in caves anymore and society lets the weakest man wield the most power if his brain is powerful.

We can't totally escape our innate nature but to guys I say accept a 0.6 or 0.8 hip to waist ratio and women don't make nice guys act like jerks. What if it's permanent?

Emergency Exit Row

Many people will take the emergency exit row for extra leg room. The qualifications for said leg room?

1. Get to the airport early enough to snag one.

2. Say yes when the flight attendant asks you if you'll be willing to open the door, in case of an unplanned mass exodus.

QSN: I'm not too keen on exit row seats myself because to have one you have to give up your “under the seat in front of you” space. I needs my space! And sometimes the seats are narrower. Or they seem narrower because the arm rest extends all the way to the seat. The should call them exit boxes.

When you sit in an exit row you never think you're going to have to perform the duties you've agreed to. You certainly hope not. But I think about that plane that landed safely in the Hudson and all the emergency exit folks who had to step up. How did they fare? I think punctuality and a head nod are not enough qualifications for such an important and stressful job. We don't know how these people are under pressure.

I say we add a new criterion. If you want to sit in the emergency exit row, you have to thread a needle while people hurl insults at you. I figure if you can maintain focus and hand-eye coordination while someone bags on your favorite tweed blazer and someone else is making you rethink your hairstylist decision, then you should be all set with popping open the door when the plane touches down in a corn field in the middle of nowhere.

I've always vowed that I would take my laptop with me if I had to prematurely exit an airplane. I've got 5 unpublished blogs on this thing. The lap top goes with me! But last year, while home in LA, we had an earthquake. It lasted 30 seconds mind you and I was sitting at my laptop when it hit. I ran out of my place with no shirt on and no shoes...and no laptop.

My mom should find comfort in knowing my survival skills are still in tact and I would rather be naked in public than under a pile of rubble with my laptop.

Super Bowl Funday

So I just saw a woman on the Today show giving tips for how to eat this Super Bowl Sunday without taking in too many calories. The segment was called Game Plan For Super Bowl Eating. Game plan?! I'm telling you if we keep having people tell us things we already know we're going to regress into needing instructions to wipe in the bathroom. It's super Bowl Sunday! Eat what you want. It's one day! Eat less on Monday. And if for some reason you can't go to town, then don't eat so much.

Rocket Science it is not. We have to remind ourselves that TV is on all the time and they have to fill all that time with something. As someone who is on TV and aspires to be on it even more, I can't be too critical of the industry I want to break into. But I care about people...even if they don't deserve it and even if I seem like I don't. You always hurt the ones you love and I love you enough to say you don't need a game plan for eating at a super bowl party stupid.

Let's review this one more time. To lose weight you have to burn more calories than you take in. Stop me when it sounds like Quantum Physics. 3500 calories less per week will equal 1 pound of fat weight loss. That's 500 calories more burned, per day, than you take in. Not easy but not mystic either. Take in the same as you burn and you stay the same weight. Take in more than you burn and you gain weight. Working out helps because you burn more calories and even if you take in the same as what you burn and you don't lose weight, you may still turn fat into muscle and appear slimmer.

There is a billion dollar industry of diets and fitness equipment and dvds all based on the previous paragraph. A billion dollars based on a simple truth that we all know. Amazing. Enjoy the Super Bowl.

Who Dat!

Dwayne Perkins To The Rescue

A few months back I wrote blogs about sitting in a park in San Francisco's China town and about a guy typing outside on a typewriter on a elementary school desk. I was in San Fran performing at the famous Punch Line Comedy Club. But What I didn't mention is, I was also there to record a new comedy CD.

It had been a while since my last CD, “She Ate my Haircut” dropped and I felt it was time to lay down some of my new classic jokes. A comedy CD is basically a snapshot of your act on any given night. And just like a picture you want it to be a good one. Did I blink? Is there something in my teeth? Can we take the picture again? But unlike a picture you can't easily do an hour show over and over until you get one that you like. Imagine taking a picture for all to see and you only get one try at it. Now you've got to make sure you look your best but stay loose enough to still look like you're having fun in the picture. Great picture but why are you sweating and gritting your teeth?

My approach was to not let the crowd know I was taping a CD. I wanted organic reactions. True belly laughs, true moans, impulsive clapping. So as I hit the stage to record, my goal was to do everything in its most relaxed natural funny form. But how about the crowd? Would I have to deal with 8 drunk bachelorette parties? Or maybe there would be someone with an over the top cackle laughing hard but distracting everyone else with there snorts. Perhaps there be a frat party and guys barking or whistling at everything that struck a chord with them.

These are the occupational hazards of a Stand-Up comic. We gladly accept these challenges and routinely turn unplanned distractions into comedy gold. But when you're recording a CD for prosperity you want your written jokes to lead the way. You don't want an entire CD that seems like you had to be there to get it.

Luckily for me the San Francisco crowd that showed up the night of my taping was awesome, well behaved and ruckus in just the right way. Thanks San Fran for a great show. My San Francisco treat is now available for all to listen to. I'm and proud, honored and humbled to announce to you the release of my new CD: “Dwayne Perkins to The Rescue”

The choosing of the title is another story but in the end I think my comedy is a break from the norm. Hilarious without being cynical. Truthful without being hurtful. Much of Stand-up has gone awry. But have no fears because Dwayne Perkins is to the Rescue. :-)

Available on itunes, Amazon and www.rooftopcomedy.com

Home Alone, Not at Home

I recently moved so I rented the movie Home Alone to get some tips on boobie trapping my place. I can't afford a high-tech direct link to the police station alarm system but maybe I can rig up a hot tar and feather trap for would be robbers. The crazy thing is, if I'm not home there's nothing left to take. I take my money, wallet and talent with me. (Just wanted to see if you were paying attention :-) Unless the black market goes gaga over used crock pots. Even my flat screen is the Best Buy brand (open box...Brooklyn, we go hard) And why risk imprisonment when you can go to Ikea and replicate my place on the skinny without a 5-10 stint hanging over your head.

My only worry is that I would rig up some rad traps and forget where the trigger mechanisms are.

ME: Yeah, I can't make that audition today.

MY AGENT: This is a big audition. I had to beg them to see you.

ME: Sorry, unless they're cool with me tracking molasses and blood all through their office. I'm gonna have to pass

MY AGENT: If you killed someone, I can't be your agent anymore...unless you book a sitcom.

I'm going to keep my deterrents simple and controllable. Robbers beware. Now..if I could only ghost proof my place...

Back To The Future

So, last week Wednesday I successfully traveled back in time. Without the aid of a flux capacitor or a magical phone booth I warped back to 1994. Before I get a bunch of emails and phone calls from jealous scientists looking to steal my time travel patent, let me explain how I accomplished this feat...

I left my cell phone home. Ever do that? At first a wave of panic came over me. I was already running late and too far away to turn back. I was cut off from the world. I would have to learn how to eat off the land, start fires, determine which berries are safe to eat. Sure I had money in my pocket, a car full of gas and other cars all around me but how would I contact anyone. More importantly how would they contact me.

As my thoughts spiraled and I began to accept my own personal Armageddon, Lisa Loeb's “You Say” came on the radio. Then I realized that I had basically warped back to 1994 and everything was going to be okay. That's right, there was a time when I drove in my car without the ability to phone home. I made it through 1994 okay, maybe I could make it through a ½ day without my phone. Although, then I started to get upset that I didn't have my beeper on me :-). As I sat at a red light being calmed down by Miss Loeb...

MISS LOEB: ...I don't listen hard, don't pay attention to the distance that you're running
to anyone, anywhere...

Just then a brother walked by my car sporting a bulbous afro, bell bottoms and yellow Chuck Taylors (he had actually warped to 1994 from 1977) Apparently, I wasn't the only one time traveling.

I just may leave my phone at home more often.

Damn Ma!

I like a pretty girl as much as the next guy but this thing of casting way too young women to play older roles is getting ridiculous. I keep seeing TV mothers who look 4 years older than their supposed daughters. It's a mind screw. Obviously, to get on TV, for the most part, you have to be empirically good looking. The programmers have a better chance of the viewers watching if the people being transmitted are desirable. As that means more people will watch the commercials. Good looking people are the bridge between soap powder and the viewing public. Much like stand-up comics are the bridge between watered down drinks, greasy appetizers and people looking for something to do on a Saturday night. Because they're being entertained people will brave a two drink minimum or sit through a life insurance commercial to get another glimpse of that beautiful woman who they were promised would be shown “after these messages.”

So good looking people dominate the television landscape. Fine. But I think some line is crossed when a TV mother of 3 teenagers looks like she's 27. I'm sure there are 27 year old women with 3 teenage kids but that story isn't quirky, charming or heart felt. It's a bit more understandable when the show's angle is that the mom started young. Many times, that's not the angle. The producers are just trying to double up on the show's hotness quotient. A veritable two-fer.

I try my darnedest to look my best, but this worshiping youth has gone too far. We all get to be young and if we're lucky, we get to be old. No one gets to be young twice. That's why we came up with the phrase young at heart. I'm not saying moms shouldn't look good or have ambitions separate from being a mom. But think of the billions of dollars that can be made if you make moms feel pressure to compete with women ½ their age. Maybe the demand for youth is already there and moms would seek out products and techniques to restore youth no matter what. Or maybe turning on your TV and seeing moms that could just as easily be on MTV spring break is creating the youth demand and ultimate discontentment.

Sorry to be a Debbie Downer. Moms rock.

Quaint For Hire

So last weekend I spent some time walking through a very quaint outside mall. (When I say oxy, you say Moron...Oxy...Moron,Oxy...Moron) That's right I used quaint and mall in the same sentence. The people who build malls have co-opted quaintness. The secret? Apparently it's small trees with white lights on them, soft street lights, brick paved streets, throw in some alabaster colored store fronts and voilà, you've got publicly traded mega stores with the quaint feel..

SHOPPER1: Take a picture of me in front of the Sunglass Hut.

SHOPPER2: let's eat with the locals...look, a Cheesecake factory!

SHOPPER1: Really? This mall is a hidden treasure off the beaten path.

This realization hit me while at the Funny Bone in the Green Mall in Dayton Ohio. Blog World, I was duped for 3.6 seconds. As we drove up to the club I thought “This is such a quaint town in the middle of this...sub-division?....what a minute!”

Someone went to a real sleepy quaint beach town or a ski town, took a few pictures, went back into a lab and developed instant quaintness.

I guess if Urban outfitter can sell new clothes that look used for double the price, then builders can make throw up “quaint” cities in three weeks and put in a Cold Stone's. Too easy.

Next up? Third World parks. Why go to South America or Africa when you can experience all the third World charm and despair just 1 hour north of Downtown Los Angeles. Kids get in for free.

Actually, you may not have to leave downtown Los Angeles.

Method Acting

One key to success is to multiply yourself. You can't be in two places at the same time, yet, but you can collaborate, delegate and multi-task. Until Best Buy sells cloning machines the aforementioned tactics are the ways to get more life bang for your buck.

I'm all about writing with my talented friends and I've been known to listen to my Espanol tapes while I Tae-Bo at home. So I thought I'd bone up on acting techniques while I sat on transcontinental flight.

I downloaded a book called Method Acting into my smart phone's e-reader. I haven't studied Method Acting but I figure it has worked rather swimmingly for Robert Deniro.

I was about 3 pages in when I finally realized my book wasn't about acting at all. I had downloaded an erotica book about 2 hot and heavy actors. For the first two pages I thought to myself, Method Acting is a lot like soft porn. Then by page 3 I thought...This is soft porn. I'm no quitter, so I read on.

I was amused by the way the author mixed scientific terms with the filthiest street terms. I think actual porn actors should be forced to do this as well.

PORN CHICK: Coital me baby! Give me your cocker spaniel .

PORN DUDE: You like my reproductive organ, don't you?

Turns out the girl in the book was a method actor, hence the title. I won't give away the ending...but...they had sex.

I tried to bone up on my acting and instead got a book about boning...and some pointers. Check out “Method Acting” by Reed Manning.

Please Listen to My Demo

California's Venice Beach has become so overrun with guys selling their home made music CDs that I'm now contemplating wearing my own gaudy over sized headphones when I go there so I look like I'm selling my CD as well. It's like the night of the living dead out there except all the Zombies are trying to score music deals. And how do you stop a Zombie from attacking? You pass yourself off as a Zombie of course.

Venice Beach is like walking in Myspace. Like a movie where you're watching your computer screen one minute and the next minute you're in it dodging bands' friend requests, occasionally gawking a tad too long at plump girls wearing outfits 3 sizes too small, and staying clear of weirdos selling things and/or ideologies lest you catch a virus.

And much like Myspace these indie musicians are making Venice Beach unbearable for me. And much like myspace the scantily clad women are making Venice beach undesirable for women who like wearing outfits that fit and leave something to the imagination. Personally, the jury is still out on whether skimpy outfits in fact stunts or enhances my imagination. Be it virtual or real, I brave the skin show with the non-judgmental, inclusive spirit I was taught as a kid...well, that and binoculars.

Imagine my surprise when I bumped into a music Zombie far far away in a Coffee shop in Studio City. But the Zombies aren't supposed to live long enough to make it here to the San Fernando valley. Have they mutated? They have my friends, a mother daughter team selling the little girl's demo CD door to door. They caught me sitting down at LuLu's beehive completely off guard and immobile. I caved. And I have the song “Me and My Puppy” in my music library as proof of my slippage. That and 5 dollars less in my wallet.

Shall I burn it for you? That'll be five dollars!...Run for your lives.

Sweet Diabetic

I was in a crammed Borders Cafe in New York City. Getting a seat, like many things in New York, was a struggle. The line to order felt like college orientation. Look to your left and then to your right, one of you will not be getting a seat. Like a massive game of musical chairs with participants carrying pastries and hot beverages, people circled the chairs waiting for proverbial music to stop.

A Brooklynite in Manhattan always has a slight edge...(Brooklyn, we go hard) I skipped ordering all together and mad a dash for a seat that was opening up. Fate favors the bold and I was moderately rewarded with a table I agreed to share with some medical students. Well, they were sittings next to me but I allowed them to place their extra books on the portion of my table that I wasn't using. (Brooklyn, we share)

So I was making the most of my half of the table when another guy came and sat in the empty chair across from me. I was okay with this because he only wanted to use half of the half that the medical students were using. That's 1 half of the table for me, 1 fourth for the medical students and 1 fourth for the new guy if you're keeping score at home.

I guess since we were kinda family at this point the new guy started reading one of the medical students' books. I felt like telling New Guy to play nice. As if he was reading my mind, he preemptively said to me, “I have diabetes so I wanna read up on it...”

Turns out the medical students were studying diabetes. Serendipity I tell ya. The new guy must have been a speed reader because he plowed through the bible sized book in 15 minutes and with his new found knowledge and confident swagger placed it back on the medical fourth of the table. New Guy then told the diligent duo “I have Type I diabetes so if yous need info over there, just ask me over here.”

Who says New Yorkers aren't friendly? The friendly diabetic may not have made it into the medical students case study but he made it into my blog...over here.

You Dropped The Ball on Me...Baby

Happy New Year everyone. Remember, what you make of this year, the relationships you strengthen or disband, the work you do, the lessons you learn are all infinitely more important than where you were when the new year came in. People feel that whatever they're doing when the new year starts will be what they'll be doing all year. I did a comedy show on New Year's Eve, but for most people this is a silly notion. Do you really want to be in rowdy crowds downing over priced drinks all year? This only works if you go to your place of employment to bring in the new year Which can't work for most professions...

RESIDENT: Hey Plumber Jeff, What are you doing here? It's New Year's Eve.

PLUMBER JEFF: Thought I'd bring the New Year in the right way and install that new toilet you wanted.

RESIDENT: I don't think this is the time to have my toilet out of commission...you're welcomed to stay for the party...I guess.

PLUMBER JEFF: I'll stay but can I at least re-caulk the shower tile. I want to be busy next year!

For the first time ever I spent New Years Eve in Times Square. I had a show in a hotel in Times Square. Like most New Yorkers I have never gone to see the ball drop. It's just too hectic and cold. Maybe if the year started in June you could get New Yorkers to show up. We gladly concede that whole scene to tourists and New Yorkers who insist on acting like tourists. This year though, my VIP badge granted me access to the heart of Times Square. I was even allowed to go down and watch the ball drop, from a prime location, with 15 minutes left till midnight. With hundreds crammed into a space more suitable for dozens, my rib cage felt under siege from all sides. This lead to a little game of “Dwayne Displacing People” I pushed my way back to the hotel, went upstairs and brought in the New Year inside like a self respecting New Yorker oughtta. Am I going to be moving people out of my way all year? :-)

Shout out to New Years Nation

www.newyearsnation.com

Let The Choir Say Amen

When in doubt, I think any singer should bring in a black gospel choir, or African singers to sing back-up. Gotta hit record? Let some black women in kente Cloth sway behind you echoing your chorus. Now it's epic. Gotta a so-so song? Bring in the Chicago Mass Choir to belt out the la la la's. Now you have a mild hit. It may be a strength in numbers thing but more likely it's America's deep rooted love for motherly black women.

QSN: Motherly is the key. For centuries the symbol of domestic activitiy was a always a rotund friendly black woman. America's love for the “Around the Way girls” I grew up with doesn't run quite as deep. Although, I got nothing but love for 'em.

I wish I could test my theory. I truly believe Lou Bega could release Mambo Number 6 tomorrow if he had some strong black women singing back up. He just needs a little Mahalia in his life.

Great Elvis Costello song, Every day I Write The Book, made a little better by some groovy dancers one who happens to be a young Carol Wheeler from the group Soul to Soul.

Getting The Band Back Together

I would like to say I was in a hip mom & pop coffee shop that only sells organically grown coffee beans and uses a quarter of their proceeds to save the Rain Forest but I must say I was in Starbucks when this latest snippet catch aka ear hustle went down.

I'm sitting there stressing out about buying Christmas presents and doing all the dirty work my non-existent assistant should be doing; Updating my calendar, adding people on Facebook, ignoring people on Linkedin.*

Anyhoo, I'm expeditiously plowing through the tedium when I overhear a guy sitting behind me say...”I might do porn again” Porn Star says what?! Now there's a boredom buster if I ever heard one. By the way, “Dreaming of a White Christmas” was playing through the PA system. Yikes.

QSN: Why is every porn person a star? How come there are no Porn character actors. Where is the Steve Buscemi Porn equivalent? You know someone who may not be able to carry a movie but does a great job in every thing they're in ala Joan Cusack.

Without moving an inch, my ears perked up. I glanced over quickly just to make sure they weren't some yahoos faking a conversation just to get a rise out of folks nearby. They weren't. This porn Scrooge was killing the holiday vibe. My mother whispers on the phone when telling me mild family occurrences and these guys think porn work is appropriate Starbucks full-voice talk during the holidays?!

MY MOM: (whispering)You know your uncle got a speeding ticket?

ME: What?! I can't hear you. My knuckles need a cheese biscuit?...

To strengthen his case porn guy said to his friend. “I would rather do it for a ½ hour and make the same money as working a regular job all night”

Wow. Either porn doesn't pay much or this guy has a really low paying normal job. Every time you disrobe and get goggled at, a bit of your soul dies. Why lose a chunk of your soul just to avoid one night's work? It may not be worth it for any amount but definitely not for one night's pay for a film that will live on forever. Not to mention the Ghost of STD's past.

I guess Scrooge was just weighing his options going into the New Year. I just hope Scrooge remembers that he stopped his film “work” for a reason. Then again porn is a billion dollar industry and somebody's got to do it...I guess.

*Should I be on Linkedin? Perhaps this can wait til I actually get an assistant?

Strong Islands

I had a blast in England and it dawned on me that Jolly old England is similar to my hometown of Coney Island(CI).

QSN: Coney Island is actually a peninsula but it's hard to move shirts that say “Coney Peninsula” on them.

Similar in that little places sometimes over achieve. In England they say they punch above their weight. There was a time when the sun never set on the English Empire. This little country the size of Alabama basically had the world in a choke hold. The effects still linger. Ever wonder why the pound is still stronger than the dollar? Usually large sample sets breed greater competition and thus better quality. For example, the best pizza in New York City would probably be better than the yummiest pizza in North Dakota because they are probably 8 times as many pizza shops in New York City.

That's just basic math. But sometimes a smaller sample group focused on one thing can dominate. In my neighborhood we set our sights on basketball and a little neighborhood only 3 avenues wide and 18 blocks long runs the whole city of New York.** Seems improbable but there are 2 NBA players from this tiny place and scores of division 1 players and top prospects on the horizon. Lincoln, The local High School has won the city championship 4 times in a row. This is New York friggin' City we're talking about here! Even on the thug tip you won't find hoods with more legendary reputations, like Bed Stuy, for instance, coming to CI looking for trouble. The CI bunch is athletic and tightly knit. And our brethren from across town can't navigate the interwoven projects like the locals can. Being lost in an unfamiliar project block can be scarier than being in the wilderness with a bear breathing down your tent. Not that we would want it with Bed Stuy either. Shout out to Do or Die.

There's less to do in little places and what there is to do, everybody does it. Coney Island is the last stop in Brooklyn. We couldn't be in Manhattan in 15 minutes. Back then the train didn't connect to the bus for free. And even if you tried to walk far you had to brave Bensonhurst, a tough as nail Italian Neighborhood for those keeping score at home. Basketball anyone? I think this principle can also explain the Wayan family's dominance. A small focused group can do major things.

Another theory is that one special person excels and those around him excel by proxy. Keenan to the Wayans. Michael to the Jacksons. For Coney Island basketball the oldest Marbury brother set it off for not only that family but the whole Coney Island.

This was a case study more than a blog. I hope you enjoyed. Cheerio.

QSN: Coney means rabbit. Apparently there were a lot of Rabbits there at some point. Total number of rabbits I've seen jumping through the projects in my 20 years of living there?: Zero.

**Ive added nothing to the Coney Island basketball lore. I'm not much of a baller. I'm the Wiz Kid hoping to put Coney Island on the map for something else.

UPS Guy Goes Postal

So I ran into a post office last week and a UPS guy came in after me making a delivery...to the Post Office! Is that legal?...In bad taste? Someone had UPS deliver to their PO Box. It's fair to say the Post Office workers were a tad bit perturbed. I had already tested their patience walking in at closing time right at the strike of 5. My entry was welcomed with a...

POSTAL LADY: Ron! Can you please lock the door?!

Then she saw the UPS guy and the look on her face said...”Now This?”

The other people on line* all flashed looks of worry mixed with exhilaration. It was that look you have right before a girl fight is about to go down and you wish you had some popcorn to nervously gnaw on as the hair pulling commences. The people in line all moved forward and without any words our eyes cheered, ”It's on!” My money was on the Postal workers. You never heard anyone say they went all UPS on somebody.

In somewhat of a let down the parties were more civil than anyone expected. In fact, it happens with some regularity. The Postal Posse were a bit annoyed and slightly embarrassed but they begrudgingly accommodated Mr. UPS and no one got hurt.

It kind of looked like a funny commercial where even the Post Office uses UPS. As an aside, I recently auditioned for a UPS commercial where the Fedex Guy and Mail man are looking at the UPS guy with envious amazement. Funny ad but I like my real life scenario better.

I didn't get the commercial.

* New Yorkers often say “on-line” instead on “in-line” Just wanted to let you know that I know and also give a shout to NYC.

Passing the Bucks

Here's an excerpt of a conversation I heard between two Starbucks workers in New York.

WORKER 1: Yo, you know Sam is allergic to mocha right?

WORKER 2: Word?

WORKER 1: Yeah he can't even touch it or he'll break out, yo.

WORKER 2: Word?

WORKER 1: But it's only Starbucks chocolate that makes him break out. Crazy right?

WORKER 2: Word.

This Sam sounds like my kind of guy. Get a job then find a loophole that precludes you from doing nearly half the work required of you. Before the manager of this Starbucks embarks on an exhaustive study to isolate the ingredient in their mocha powder that might be an allergenic I suggest they check old Sam's character.

His story might check out but even if it does doesn't it simply mean he can't work at Starbucks. I mean I can't join the circus as a tight rope walker and then spring my fear of heights on them on my first day of work.

ME: Guys, I'm actually deathly afraid of heights. But I'm cool standing on the platform and waving. I've really spend a lot of time getting my wave down pat...so you guys balance and I'll wave...cool?

I wanted to chime in but I bit my tongue, ordered my Awake tea, Grande with one tea bag and went on my way.

Make That Change

I recently spent a few days in jolly old London. I must admit, even this native New Yorker had to adjust to London's speed. I wouldn't say it's New York on steroids. More like New York on creatine and protein shakes.

What is on steroids is the pound compared to the dollar. The prices are deceiving because they make sense in dollars but when you do the math you realize that your decision to super-size your cheeseburger meal at McDonald's is really going to cost you 9 US dollars. That's like airport in Beverly Hills prices. And Beverly Hills doesn't have an airport.

The main reason an American and his money are soon departed in the UK is the usage of pound coins. They have a 1 pound, two pound and 5 pound coin. Coin I tell ya! My US mentality of being willy nilly with coins really wreaked havoc on my bottom line.

Sure we have dollar coins but they're more of a novelty. When we get them our minds begin to race. The first thing we think is this dollar coin may be worth something. But the fact that it was dispensed as change from a ticket machine forces you to rethink your trip to the Antiques Road show. Our second thought is one of mild horror. Will this “dollar” get lost amongst my other change. What if I lose it or pass it on thinking it's a quarter?! We have to rid ourselves of the shiny anomaly burning a hole in our pocket. It's currency cooties and we're looking to pass it on as soon as possible. You might even buy something you don't want or need just to end it. And as you pay you have to repeatedly announce to the clerk that you're handing him a dollar.

I will even give my dollar coins to a lucky transient. And as I drop in into his cup, I proudly declare that I'm giving him a dollar and he should be careful not to mix it up with the other small change “others” have given him. Maybe he could put my gracious gift in another pocket. Perhaps he should have another cup for dollar coins.

Usually though, my homeless beneficiary looks as annoyed by the coin as I was. Time to trade in my London coinage for some greenbacks.

Oh U Oh the Sweetest Day

I'm in a Walgreens in Chicago.... and I see all these hearts and candy and such in the Promotional aisle. Pretty early jump on Valentine's day, no? I mean you still have Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas coming down the pike. Turns out the stuff was for something called “Sweetest Day.” I'm told it's a Midwest thing. I never heard of this “holiday.” I guess it's some kind of odd lead in to Valentine's Day.

Sweetest Day is to Valentine's Day what PSAT is to SAT.

Most holidays, or at least the way we choose to celebrate them, are contrived thinly veiled sales campaigns. But it's more glaring when it's a holiday celebrated right in your own country that you never heard of. Like religions, the only things that separate a valid holiday from a shady one are the number of people who follow it and how long it's been around. With proper marketing, one hundred years from now, Sweetest Day may sit on the Mount Rushmore of holidays right up there with Christmas and Thanksgiving. For now it's on par with Flag day and still eons behind St. Patty's day. Even Ground Hog's Day, which is more of an event than a holiday, outshines Sweetest Day.

And what's the ramifications if Sweetest Day really takes hold? It will widen the Can't Breakup Time Block. (CBTB) This is the time of year when you don't want to break up with someone either because it'll be too devastating to them or you don't want to spend the holidays alone. The current generally accepted block runs from 2 weeks after Halloween til a week after Valentine's Day. Sweetest day is the third Saturday in October. So now we're talking about expanding the CBTB by a whole month. And if your boo that you're through with birthday's in say...May and your anniversary is in say... August. You may never have the chance to move or be moved on.

This holiday could kick start marriages born into resentment.

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

All I Really Want is A Little Bit

Most cities will list museums and landmarks in their tourism brochures but they never list the true gift the city has to offer...People Watching. Any city worth it's salt will provide quality people watching opportunities.

But I haven't come to tell you what you already know. People watching isn't the order of the day. But it is the predecessor to another fun hobby of mine, snippet hunting. What's snippet hunting? It's people watching but you engage the sense of listening. The goal is to hear the most random bit of a conservation, or snippet, completely out of context and stop listening before it can in any way make sense. The goal is find something that is stand alone funny and ridiculous, maybe because of it's non sequitur-ness.

I came upon a jewel yesterday in Chicago on my way into a Trader Joe's. Two 30 something women were talking and on said to the other:

Carol said she's kick me in the stomach if I took her baby name

That my friends is a quality snippet. I didn't need to hear anything after or what came before. I hurried into the market to enjoy the snippet while I calculated the unit price of apples.

INSIDE MY HEAD: There's more in this bag but I believe this bag costs less per apple...then again are the apples bigger in this bag?...Doesn't my hotel have apples in the lobby for free?...kicked in the stomach...HA!

You can pretty much have a ball in any city. All you need is time, a way to get around and ears (in many cases one ear will do)

The thing that stuck with me the most is that even white yuppie housewives in Chicago don't take any shorts. Chicago is no joke.

Let's just hope Carol has her baby first.

Ricky Don't Lose That Number

Now, with cell phones, it's a lot harder to not give someone your number. Now, they want you to call them on the spot because God forbid they have a pen and write down their number. So a person who's barely email worthy, has your number. The only thing you can do at that point is to put their name in your phone so you at least know not to answer when they call. But will you remember not to answer 6 months from now? What if you don't know their last name? Or remember them at all.

YOU: Who's “Lord Too Nice”?!

I say you assign them a last name...but don't get caught...

LORDTOONICE: My last name isn't “Don't Answer!”
YOU: That's code for hell ya I'm going to answer...Not buying it?

I might have to get another cell phone just for not answering. I'm not trying to suggest that I'm that sought after just that people are intrusive. If I have given you my number, please don't think this is about you. This blog entry isn't autobiographical...necessarily.

Comedian on Call - video blog - teaching Kanye West

Sonic Boom

Hopefully, you are like me and you love those Sonic restaurant commercials. Those guys crack me up. Living in LA, you don't see too many Sonics. In fact the closest one is in Anaheim some 30 miles away from Hollywood. So when I checked into my hotel in Lexington Kentucky and saw a Sonic just up the road I decided to go see what the funny commercials are all about.

It's a drive-in but they allow foot traffic. Whew! The food was what you would expect from a fast food place. I wasn't in love with the prices. What did wow me was the girl who brought my food out on Roller Skates. She was, as the kids say, “sick with it.” She deftly whizzed my food to me on a tray without dropping a morsel. Something about a person rollerskating makes spending money a little easier. Imagine your mechanic telling you you need a new transmission. Now imagine him rollerskating backwards, spinning around, and coming to a stop just inches away from you then breaking the news to you.

YOU: A new transmission? Yeaaaaaaa! Do the spin again!...Do it again...

Okay, maybe you wouldn't be that excited but it would soften the blow. The Sonic took me back to the times depicted on the show Happy Days. As a rule black people aren't too keen on going back. Perhaps we can go back a la carte?

Wear It On Your Sleeve

I was recently in....(sarcastic drumroll please)....Starbucks.

QSN: I realize my blog is way too cool (hopefully) for The Bucks to be my headquarters. If it makes it better I have found a new hip artsy coffee shop called Swork that I will be splitting my time between with the 3 Starbucks across the street..

Back to the story. I sat next to a guy with a sleeve tattoo. Not a tattoo of a sleeve (although that would've been be awesome. Especially if he had French cuffs drawn in) His whole arm had ink in tribute to his passion, music. I know music is his passion because on his arm he had musical notes, piano keys...oh yeah and the word “Passion” in the middle of it all. How cool would it be to ask him if his passion was something else?

ME: So you live for Scrapbooking huh?

TATTED UP GUY: No, music is my thing. It's right here on my arm...

ME: So...you're saying fishing is why you even get out of bed ...that's cool.

I don't have a problem with this guy's public proclamation of his passion. It's just odd that only people in the arts go to such lengths. I would wager that this guy does not make his living off music. Yet, you would be hard pressed to find an accountant with a gaudy tattoo of a ledger on his arm. Try finding a civil engineer with a tattoo of the coliseum with a protractor and compass. Can't do it.

No, professionals leave their self expression up to vanity license plates. Can't say I approve of that either but at least LDGR-GUY doesn't have to wear long sleeves to church.

Are You Ready For Some Football?

Today marked the first full day of the 09 Football Schedule. People have been gearing up for this for the past few weeks. Fantasy Football leagues have had drafts, favorite beer mugs have been polished, flat screens have been purchased. And how did I kick off the NFL's kick off?

I watched Women's Professional Bowling.

It was on when I turned my TV on and I found it intriguing so I didn't turn the channel. I used to watch bowling and wrestling with my grandmother so both make me instantly nostalgic. I also, for the most part, find professional women bowlers attractive. I think it's their attainable, real, girl next door look. In actuality most of them are married and unattainable (Maybe that's why I like them....hmmn...). I'm also a big fan of women Pool players. I suppose that can be more easily read into. Women with sticks is always fun, as long as they aren't mutilating them.

The woman I was routing for lost the match in the last frame by missing badly and leaving a 4-6-7-10 split. Ouch! Picture a smile with all the middle teeth missing and just the sharps ones on the sides left. Not cute in any vain unless the smiler is under 5. This holds true in bowling as well.

Why do we watch sports, or anything for that matter? To be entertained. And what makes it entertaining?...Close games, Suspense, seeing the participants go through the full gamut of emotions as they fight for victory. Well my bowling match had all of that except the players weren't roided up freaks of nature with zero body fat. Quite the contrary actually. :-)

I may watch football tonight to get back in touch with my inner Tarzan.

Saturday, In The Park...

Okay fine it was Sunday but I don't know any songs about being in the Park on Sunday. I was gigging at the legendary Punchline in San Francisco this weekend. My hotel was just a few blocks from China Town. Time for a Dim Sum Run Run....A Dim Sum Run.

On my way to wolf down some tasty “Bit Of Heart”* I came upon a park filled with kids playing on a Jungle Gym, groups of men and women playing cards and a band playing Chinese music with Chinese instruments. As I had just trekked up a hill that seemed perpendicular to the street below with my laptop on my back, a relaxing music break was in order. Other than my bum shoulder and bulky laptop, everything else was near perfect: Vibe, temperature, music, air quality, birds chirping...

As I sat there letting my quads recover from my mountain climb, enjoying the music of the Guzheng, the band was joined by some singers. A man and a woman took turns singing in Chinese. It seemed to be a call and response going on between the two. I could have asked someone what they were saying but that would have taken away the fun of me making up what they were singing.

In my head they were singing, in Chinese:

WOMAN: I gotta man!
MAN: What your man got to do wit' me?...

Mind you, they were both well over 50. (I bet that small detail makes your visualization a tad bit funnier...I hope it does at least.)

This wasn't a girl watching mission. It seemed like everyone in this park was under 6 or over 60. I got some looks but I think it was more, “why is this guy, not in the dawn or twilight of his life, in this park...and why is he black.”

I don't get to sit in the park and chill too often. I highly recommend it.

*Direct Translation of Dim Sum, various small Chinese dishes.

A Ride For Your Ride

I love the fact that Los Angeles buses have a bike rack in the front of them. For no additional cost you can plop your bike unto the front of the bus and you, and your ride, can ride to your location. Great for bike riders needing to go long distances. Bad for the integrity of bike races. I'm sitting in a Bucks in San Francisco writing this blog and I just noticed a bike rack on a San Francisco bus.

Is this bike rack thing common?

New York doesn't offer this service. NYC figures you got a bike...bike. (please note first bike was a noun, second bike a verb.)

Most LA buses can accommodate two bikes. Not sure how they handle it if there are three bikes waiting at the bus stop. Perhaps the most healthy looking one should have to get on their bike and pedal to his or her destination. Look on the bright side Ripped Guy With a Mesh Tank Top on...here's a wonderful calorie burning opportunity for you. Today, Hollywood to Santa Monica. Tomorrow, Tour de France.

I'm not sure what the policy is on those bikes with the big silly handle bars and I think it's safe to assume that if most buses can carry 2 bikes at a time then the unicycle capacity must be 4. Then again, if you ride a unicycle wouldn't the circus send a shuttle for you? Or maybe you spin for a low budget circus. Don't get down on yourself Unicycler things will pick up.

LA Metro Bike Info

Missing On A Star

It’s official. I think we need to add a missing girl segment to the news. People seem to need updates on missing girls as much as they need to know if they need to bring a sweater to work or what the score was last night. Our lost girl appetite is insatiable. We’re here already. Let’s call it what it is.

I’m not talking about merely covering the latest missing or rescued girl. I’m talking about a daily segment, like the weather or sports.

WEATHER MAN: Look for things to cool down by the end of the week but today will be a scorcher.

ANCHORMAN: Thanks Cole and now with the missing girl segment, here’s Patricia.

QSN: In the states (and let’s be honest by readership is international…I mean, a guy in Toronto counts right?) Anyhoo, here, weather men have to have names that sound like weather conditions. My previous scene is no different. My imaginary weather man’s last name is Front.

Don’t get me wrong people being abducted and taken from their family is very sad. But what makes the tears roll down my face is that the general populace doesn’t really care. We’re just gobbling up the sensationalism of it all. Also sad, 4 out of ten times the very family that’s on TV crying and pleading for help is responsible for their own little girl’s disappearance.

I’m just waiting for the missing little girl drinking games to start popping up.

QSN = Quick Side Note