Smooth Sailing

The other day I changed in my car ( not too uncommon for the actor on the go) and drove off. While driving I felt like pebbles or something in my pant legs. So, I immediately get the itchies. Is it a bug? Are there hundreds of little peebles or bugs on my legs right now. The mind can play tricks on you and once you’ve got the itchies you really have to take off all your clothes and have a scratching and kicking fit before your mind will feel confident that there is indeed nothing on you and then stop sending the body itch signals. So, I’m driving with the itchies. I only needed a red light so I could: stop, pull down my pants, brush emphatically. In the city of Angels I drove 20 minutes without hitting a red light. Red lights kept turning green on my approach. To other drivers it looked like I was dancing and having a good ole time. In actuality the radio was off and I was having an itching fit. For those of you familiar with Los Angeles. I drove from Sherman Oaks to Korea Town, all side streets, without hitting one red light. I know I could have pulled over at any point but I kept thinking the next corner is going to offer the much coveted red light. So if you’re ever late to work put a cup full of fire ants down your pants.

Suction Function

My dentist tells his assistant to put water in my mouth. She puts a tiny hose in my mouth and the stream of water begins to flow. Ten seconds later he tells her to add suction. So she puts a little vacuum tube in my mouth that begins to suck out the water. Well what is it Doc? Does my mouth need to be wet or dry. Or have you not used your toys in a while? So I’m breathing through my nose while I’ve got the conundrum happening in my mouth. I guess the dentist needed more light because he lifted my upper lip. This blocked my nostrils and forced me to play the hit game show that’s sweeping the country...”How long can you hold your breath” Well, at least for a minute and a half thank you very much. Tell him what he’s won Bob.

Don’t Cry...Dry Your Eye

I was on the downtown 6 train in New York City. A couple sat in the 2-seater bench near the end of the subway car. The woman was crying. The man, trying to console her, pulled out a tissue and went to wipe her eyes. Maybe he was heavy handed or maybe the train jerked but he applied way too much pressure and sent her head banging into the subway wall. Ouch! At least he changed what she was crying about.
“I’m crying because I don’t know where my life is heading...(Ka-Thunk)...I’m crying because my head is throbbing”
I’m sure he felt awful about hitting her head so hard. Maybe she tried to console him.
“It’s okay baby... It’s the thought, not the knot on my head, that counts.”

Working on the Train Gang

In a span of 10 minutes 3 different groups of young men came on the Subway in NYC and announced they were selling candy to raise money for their high school. These schools really need better funding. Can we really expect these kids to perform well in school and peddle candy? 1 guy was clearly over twenty five. So, obviously the juggling of school and candy sales has forced the poor guy to have to repeat a grade or two or three. Let’s give more to the schools and take back our children’s time. I mean 2 of the guys didn’t even have time to shave. I can only imagine what their lockers look like.

Adventures in Senior Living

There’s a retirement home in Westwood California whose slogan is “Adventures in Senior Living.” Not to be ageist or anything but what adventures do they have in mind. The mad dash to the Jello table? Senior Macarena night? A denture treasure hunt? I’m not saying seniors aren’t vibrant and viable. Hell, they probably still knock boots. I know I plan on mixing it up with my prosthetic hip when the time comes. But when you say Adventures you just remind everyone that they are not adventures. It’s like calling a fat guy skinny. It doesn’t make him feel better. It just reminds him that he’s such a tub-o-lard that people have to go out of their way to say the complete opposite. Or maybe this senior home is serious and run their seniors through an intensive boot camp. Maybe the seniors at Westwood Horizons are the first to go in.

“We do more before the Early Bird special than most retirees do all day!”

Does the Bus Stop here

As a cool down to a very exhilarating Tae-Bo class (that’s not the joke :-| ), the teacher broke into the Electric Slide. Also known as the Bus Stop. He didn’t really explain it but it was fun watching all the people who didn’t know how to do it fall over themselves. And watching the folks who did know it have so much fun while not helping the others. Okay... it was fun watching the white people completely lost while the Blacks, Latinos and White Girls with braids cut the rug.

It’s Getting Hot in Here

I did a show for a biblical college last week. Keep it clean young man. The show was in a big banquet hall at a country club. The president of the school prayed for the students right before I performed. In the adjacent hall a huge party was going on. So, as the president prayed Nelly’s “Hot in here” was blaring next door. You could barely hear the prayer over the beat and the people screaming. “Wanna pray... but can’t stop foot from taping...” I would have given anything to see the Pastor to break into a freestyle prayer.

“Hot in here” seemed eerily coincidental. Like, hell is only a banquet hall away. “It’s getting hot in here...so repent all your sins...”

Funky Monkey

I went to a bar last week with some friends. As a non-drinker, I always feel a little out of place. Luckily this place had Funky Monkey, my favorite bar video game of all time. What bars don’t make from me on drinks they more then make up for with Funky Monkey. I spent at least 1 hour of the 3 we were there playing Funky Monkey. I just hope they don’t have Funky Monkey at my wedding reception.
“Baby, I love you so much...I could dance with you forever...Listen could you come get me right before we cut the cake. That high score is coming down baby!”

Jukebox Hog

I think we need some legislation to limit how many songs a person can play on a jukebox. I was in a bar playing my favorite bar game 'Funky Monkey' and my friend played over 30 songs on the Jukebox. That’s complete B.S. At that point you should just rent out the place and hire your own DJ. Where’s his jukebox etiquette?! He basically held the place hostage. I mean, I like Sublime as much as the next guy but we don’t need to hear 3 of their albums in a row in a bar. Give me “Midnight Train to Georgia” or give me death!

Don’t put another dime in the Juke Box

Jukeboxes should tell you how long you’re going to have to wait to hear your songs. I refuse to leave a place until the songs I paid for play. I don’t care how boring it is or how tired I am. Even if the place catches on fire I’ll hang out by the door, trying to hear my songs while the firefighters bust in.
“Get the Hell out of here!! The place might blow!!”
“As soon as I hear ‘Midnight Train to Georgia’, I’ll leave. Get off me...let me go...someone owes me a dollar...”

Bad to The Bone

So I’m in the chair getting oral surgery. It’s as bad as it sounds. The guy is to cut bone from behind my molar and move it to my front gums. All this and I’m wide awake. Luckily for me, they gave me an I-Pod loaded with the Beatles’ greatest hits. I could barely hear the drilling, and scraping over “Love Me Do.” I usually keep my eyes closed but I had the inclination to keep my eyes open. Deep down I wanted to watch what he did in case I was ever in a position where I had to do a bone graft. Like if civilization was wiped out and there were no oral surgeons left but someone needed a bone graft, I could step up and say “I can’t promise anything but I’ll try my best...”. Then proceed to do the perfect bone graft. I looked up but it seemed to make him uncomfortable. The last thing I need is a self-conscious surgeon in my mouth. So I closed my eyes and listened to the Beatles psychedelic phase. He actually added cow bone to my own to build the gum line. It worked fine but all of a sudden I want to go grazing and I never go home.

Welcome Overstayed

We’ve all had that friend over our house or on the phone we just couldn’t get rid of. And no matter how many hints you dropped they just didn’t get it. Well, one day you find yourself in a situation and realize you’re that person. It’s terrifying when you realize your friends have been trying to get rid of you. How long have they been trying? How many hints did you miss? Godfather 1 and 2 were cool but maybe watching Godfather 3 was overkill. Maybe they didn’t want to play that 5th game of Pictionary. I thought it was odd that he drew a picture of me leaving and the answer was "Golden Nugget."

Big Tipper

So, I was very pleased with my 12 dollar mall massage. I wasn’t sure how much to tip the guy. I kinda wanted to tip 2 bucks. That way I could give him a twenty, get back a five and still have a dollar I could use for licorice ( I like my candy circa 1850.) But alas, I felt silly not giving him the whole 3 dollars. He took the 3 dollars from me like I had just handed him a snot-filled sock from the foot of a homeless guy. Good thing I didn’t give him a 2 dollar tip.

Custom like a mo-fo

In Korea, I had the great fortune of buying a custom-made blazer. Think used car salesman but way cooler (no really). On the up side it fits like a glove and MY NAME IS EMBROIDERED on the inside. That’s right my name. On the down side my friends have to hear me tell them that, MY NAME IS EMBROIDERED on the inside, as often as possible, with me constantly finding new ways to reveal the inner pocket showing of the...surprise...surprise...there’s MY NAME EMBROIDERED on the inside

“Excuse me? What’s it made of? I’m not sure let me look...It says DWAYNE PERKINS here but maybe it’s wool.”
“What, the designer’s name? Maybe it’s on the inside pocket...Well, I guess not but I recognize that name! DWAYNE PERKINS but... I didn’t design this ;-)”
“ I know I’m wearing this jacket and I haven’t taken it off since I left the house, but how can I be sure it’s mine...let’s take a closer look on the inside...yep it’s mine!”

I was having an absolute blast bragging about my coat to my friends when a guy walked in with a blazer almost identical to mine, same color and pattern. My friends laughed for 10 minutes. I have never been irritated by someone wearing my same outfit but this really ticked me off. The down side, someone has a blazer like mine. The up side, maybe having my name in the jacket will actually come in handy one day. I’d much rather had not been proven right on that point. The inside of his jacket probably says “100% NOT DWAYNE PERKINS”, so there!

3 is The Magic Number

I was on a plane from New York to Los Angeles. The waif girl next to me woke from her stupor just in time for the apple pancakes. She really dug in and took exactly 3 bites of her breakfast. I think she’s sitting on a gold mine. Everybody’s doing the South Beach, Atkins , celery soup or whatever diet just came out. If you want to get in shape, get on the 3 bite diet. Eat anything you want, but you can have only 3 little bites. It worked for the girl next to me. I was in the aisle and she in the middle seat and I still had room to put my book, walkman and laptop in her seat. I don’t think she noticed.

Recycle Me

I’m a professional packer but 2 days of unplanned Bikram Yoga made me burn through my undies and socks 1 day short of my return home. I had no time to wash clothes, so I sprayed my underwear and socks from the night before with Fabreze and jumped in the shower. Well, today I gotta say I’m feeling pretty fresh. My recycled underwear and socks are holding up rather nicely. Looks like your boy may have just tripled his wardrobe. Surely, if it works on underwear... Just kidding. I don’t want to get in an accident and have to go to the hospital with overused draws on.

Friday Night Lights

I saw the movie “Friday Night Lights” on an airplane today. I have to admit I almost cried. I said almost! On an airplane no less. That Derek Lu sure is a good actor. And I sure am a big wuss. Seriously though, a lot of movies have that one tear-jerker scene that forces you to man-up. This movie had 3 or 4 of them. I usually think about football to get my mind away from a teary eyed scene but what do you do if the movie is about football? See my dilemma?

“I’ll take the chicken cordon blue. What? No I always cry on airplanes...It’s the altitude...No really!!!”

Guest What?!

I was on line in Starfucks today, mainly because I refuse to pay anything less than 4 dollars for my coffee. As the Barista helped each person in line she said “Next guest please...” Guest? How about customer. Or ‘He who payeth too mucheth for his coffeeth.’ I don’t recall the last time I had guests over my house and charged them.
“Thanks for dinner Dwayne. Those Turkey Burgers were great.”
“Thanks my ass. That’ll be 14.75 bitches. And tipping ain't a city in China... Will you be having dessert?”

Assembly Required

So we got pretty ambitious. 2 city folks, who can barely change a lightbulb embarked on a major project to build a loft bed. Are the furniture instruction writers paid per word? And doesn’t there seem to be an inverse ratio between number of pieces and length of instructions.
“Oh 200 pieces uh? Here are the instructions honey on this postage stamp.” I don’t think the instructions for microwave pizza and a combo entertainment center/computer desk should be the same length.

There are 2 kinds of people. Those who finish and have pieces left over and say “I guess those are extra pieces, we’re all done here”, and those who say “We must have done it wrong.”

Fortunately and unfortunately my girl is the latter. So, 3 hours in we had to undo the whole thing to put in wooden studs! “ Looks sturdy enough to me...Okay fine we’ll re do it but I won’t like it”. Would it have killed the instruction people to tell us what to do with the studs?! I guess furniture makers have warped senses of humor. Very funny Hans!

Hold the Beets please

I walked past beets yesterday in the supermarket. Just seeing them made me slightly ill. Beets are pretty disgusting. I think we can all agree on that. When the Palestinians and the Israelis sit down for peace talks they should start every meeting by agreeing that beets are disgusting. “Now that we can agree on something let’s start with the talks. West Bank, what say you?”

I think they call them beets because that’s what my mother had to do to me to get me to eat them. I was first introduced to beets under very false pretenses. At age 5, I had already had the wonderful pleasure of eating cranberry sauce. So when I saw beets I had high hopes for the taste of cranberry. Can someone give a brother a heads up! Not only do I not like beets, I don’t trust them either. Those beets knew they weren’t cranberry sauce.