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 I've got 5 unpublished blogs on this thing.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.