Royal Flush

Can we please not get too ahead of ourselves with the whole auto-flushing toilets? I’m all for them but please leave the manual flush option. More and more I’m running into toilets, with no manual flush, that flush when they want to. The problem is when they want to is sometimes not when you want to and definitely not when the guy in the next stall over wants them to. We have to keep the courtesy flush in play, not only for thy neighbor but also for thyself. I know I don’t want sit over my toxic offerings. If we lose the courtesy flush then we have to answer all the intestinal questions/comments:

Are you Okay?
Did something die inside of you?
Maybe you should try fasting…indefinitely

I’m green with concern for the earth but we can find other ways to save water:

Cut the water off when you brush your teeth.
In the shower rinse, cut off water, lather, cut on water and rinse off
Fill your water balloons just half way

Whatever we do, let’s keep up the courtesy. Flush America.

Shot Gun Run

I recently saw a very scary billboard while driving in central Pennsylvania. There was a picture of a diamond necklace and the copy read “How much did his last shot gun cost?” His last shot gun?! How many guns does a person need? I guess this sign’s purpose is to encourage wives to make the case to their husbands’ that instead of buying that last shotgun he could have bought her jewelry. It’s also meant to guilt trip the men into buying the misses something purrty. Basically it poses the question is your wife more important than a gun. But didn’t these girls know what they were getting into.

HUSBAND: Baby you knew I was about my shotguns when I met you. We met in the shot gun Aisle!

I say we should put diamonds on the guns. Kill two birds with one shotgun. Put some bling on your bang! Buy your little Bonnie a cute handgun with a diamond studded handle. The note could read “ With Love…Clyde”

I would have stopped and taken a picture of this billboard but I couldn’t stop driving anywhere that question needs to be asked. I’ve seen too many late night movies where some city slicker makes a wrong turn and ends up squealing like a pig. And much to the Yankee’s chagrin, the local judge is also the cousin of the sheriff who is the brother of the guy who knocked him out and fondled his girlfriend. So I kept driving and set my cruise control right at the speed limit. I didn’t want to speed and have to meet the sheriff who’s kin to the judge…

You Have the Right to Remain Quenched

I was walking on Larchmont Ave. in the Larchmont section of Los Angeles. The 3 block stretch is probably the quaintest section of the whole city. It’s a place where people walk around with Yoga mats as if they were brief cases. I counted 6 mats in a 10 minute span but I did not see a Yoga studio anywhere. I guess you always have to be prepared. You never know when you’ll have to break out some downward dog on a fool. As I walked I spotted 4 police officers sitting in front of a Jamba Juice enjoying smoothies. I don’t want to paint our boys in blue into a box but could they not find a respectable donut shop. I have some criminal friends and I sleep better at night knowing they can out run most donut eating, coffee drinking out of shape cops on the beat. You haven’t seen police brutality until you’ve seen an irritated officer interrupted from a refreshing Tropical Awakening smoothie. The visual of a cop experiencing brain freeze just doesn’t make me feel safe. I would give 3 to 1 odds that at least 2 of them have headshots.

OFFICER: You have the right to cast me in any films or TV shows you may be producing. If you give up that right any parking tickets you have can and will be used against you…

Ok k k

I recently performed at Gettysburg College in Gettysburg PA. Yes, that Gettysburg. ( Four score and seven years ago, Gettysburg). I stayed in the Gettysburg hotel, established in 1787! Sadly, it’s a part of the Best Western chain now. The show went well but afterwards the students told me the KKK will be protesting in Gettysburg the week after my show. (not against me per-se, but blacks in general) They went on to tell me how the college is planning a counter protest. Now, as a black person I should have been really into this discussion but all I could think of was “what’s the thread count on the sheets they use”? I know the sheets are all about hiding their identity and looking menacing but it seems a high thread count would still be desirable. Even a racist can appreciate softness. Then again, sheets that are too soft against the face may make it harder to hate. It would be like being irate while the Snuggle bear is tickling your neck.

GRANDMASTER: The white race is supreme we feel- Chip will you stop giggling and hold the torch straight…Damn High thread count!

Just Add Fur

I was about to get in my car when I saw what looked like a rat scurrying from under my car. I took a step back ready to engage in full flight or full fight. Where are my numchucks when I need them?! As I stood at the ready, I looked down again and noticed it was only a squirrel. I exhaled a sigh of relief. Alas, it was only a cute little squirrel. Now squirrels are in the rodent family too. So why do we love the squirrel and hate the rat. Well, besides the squirrel having a much better Public Relations team, I think it’s the bushy fur tail. Adding fur, especially a furry tail, to anything makes it cute and harmless. Think Mike Tyson…now think Mike Tyson with a cute furry tail. See what I mean. Maybe that’s why Divas like to wear fur. They’re trying to throw everyone off the scent of their raging bitch-dom.

Assistant: She said if there are any green M&M’s in her dressing room she would back slap me with her ring hand…but she was so cute in that Chinchilla.

Little Known Fact That I Made Up: The Roman Army wore fur vests to make the opposing armies put up a weaker fight.

Beware of Gremlins toting weapons and a smirk.

Luxury Matters

I was walking down Wilshire Blvd. in Santa Monica California when I heard what sounded like a symphony. I looked around for the live band or orchestra that must have been playing in a near by building. With no buildings nearby with that “Jam Session in Session” look, I turned my attention to a Lexus car stopped at a red light with its windows down. It turns out the sweet tunes were coming from that Lexus. I looked in astonishment trying to figure out where the orchestra was hidden. It’s like the Boston Pops were playing. I kept thinking, “Wow, is a symphony standard on a Lexus?” I’ve never been one for over-the-top luxury. My Saturn Ion is a stick shift and my windows are manual. That’s right, it’s 2006 and I have to vigorously work out my rotator cuff to order at the drive through. I don’t even have a CD player or cassette. I’m one of the only people left who rents a car and thinks, “What a sweet audio system in this Hyundai Accent!” The only thing people think when my window is rolled down is “Wow, Saturns come with clock radios?”

No, but I had it specially installed and the snooze length is adjustable. Don’t hate.

God Bless You and Your Mouth

God Bless You and Your Mouth

I recently had surgery to repair a hernia. I didn’t know light circuit training could do that.
It was my first time under the knife and under anesthesia. The anesthesiologist told me he was giving me just a little to make me feel better but not totally put me out, as I wanted to talk with the doctor before he gave me the old slice and dice. That’s last thing I remembered. They told me to tell my ride to come get me at noon. A hernia operation is day surgery and I was the first one in. In fact, I woke the rooster up on my way to the surgery. I didn’t wake up until 2pm In all types of pain and nauseous from the anesthesia. It wasn’t until 4pm that I mustered up the courage to try and leave. Some guy in the room next to mine had hernia surgery and he just walked out afterwards. He Probably went dancing that night. I, after asking if I could stay overnight and getting shut down quicker than a Korean restaurant at closing time, had to be wheeled out. I tried eating bread and just spit it out right on the hospital floor like a stubborn 1 year old.

So, I eventually got better. After about a week I was walking okay and out of the blue I sneezed. I can’t really describe the pain but I’ll say a sneeze is a very violent action that you never think of that way until something is hurting. Someone could have taken me hostage with a pepper shaker. If I had sneezed the day of my surgery I’m not sure if I would be writing this blog right now. Even after a week, every sneeze was followed with a loud curse. So “God bless you” took on a whole different meaning. Don’t go to church when your healing from Hernia surgery and have the sniffles.

BTW: A hernia is a hole in your abdominal wall.

Holy Water

This blog may cost me some future endorsement deals...but if the eight of you who read my blog keep this under wraps, I should be okay.

I think we can all agree that Dasani is the most awful tasting bottled water ever. I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure that pee tastes better than Dasani. I guess I could prove it but I’m just not that committed to science. Shame on Coca Cola for muscling their way into the bottled water game and bringing to the table such a horrible product to boot. I’m sure Coke has the money to buy out a smaller company that makes better tasting water. I’m just a bit perturbed because it seems Dasani is taking over everywhere I go. It’s the only water my gym sells and more and more airport shops have only Dasani.

Upside, Coca Cola is saving me money. I used to buy a bottle of ridiculously marked up water at the airport for every flight I took. Now I just bum a cup of water from an airport restaurant. I figure the tap water from the airport can only be as bad as Dasani but not worst. If I ever go to Mexico and the only water available is Dasani, I’m drinking the Mexican water. Viva La runs!

I can’t believe I just wrote a rant about bottled water. If my friends from Brooklyn could see me now...

Word to My Trust Fund

I’m walking in New York’s Upper East Side. I pass a bunch of white kids in a circle rapping and beat boxing. In the rap world that’s called a cypher. Now there’s nothing too strange about white kids rapping. But these were like prep school, Abercrombie wearing, trust fund having types. Half of them were girls. They kind of looked like an a capella group gone wild. I think I counted 6 Navy Pea coats and 4 pairs of Dockers. Eminems they were not. You gotta love Hip Hop.

Funny... you’ll never see a bunch of black guys in wife beaters and Du-Rags playing hacky sack.

With This Ring I Thee Dead

A wedding is the ultimate killer of rocky relationships. A couple that attends a wedding can’t help but look at each other and ask “Maybe us?” If the answer is yes, then someone is going to start dropping hints. If the answer is “Hell to the Naw”, then cue the fat lady. Why am I wasting my time with this guy/girl... If I want to assemble my family and have them do the Cha-Cha and Electric Slide, I better find someone who I can meet at the altar.

The saddest part of a break-up:
When both people exhale and calmly talk about all the shit that’s been on their minds in a non-confrontational way. All the shit that had been getting in the way. All the shit that if had been discussed while you were together...you would still be together. Ain’t that a kick in the head. Handle your shit before it handles you.

Air Plain Blues

It’s hard to be original on any airplane topic so this blog entry will just have to fall short on originality. I just got off a plane and once again I was sitting on the side with absolutely no view. I fly into NYC once a month but somehow I see Manhattan from the sky once every 2 years.

Pilot: If you look out on the left side of the airplane you’ll see Jesus and Santa Claus on a sleigh being powered by flying reindeer...well that or the grace of God (chuckle, chuckle)

Pilot: And for those of you on the right side, Dwayne’s side. If you look closely into your window, and don’t breath out too hard, you may be able to see your own reflection.

Hunger for the Arts

I recently went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC. I don’t know why but I always seem to go to museums on a completely empty, haven’t eaten in six hours, stomach. It makes for interesting viewing. It’s hard to focus or enjoy anything because you can hardly stand-up. And forget about reading the little plaques next to the art works. My friend couldn’t understand why I spent 20 minutes looking at a painting of a woman holding a sandwich. She’s all “That’s not even a part of the exhibit! It’s just a sign for the cafeteria.” And I’m all “Let’s check out what fine art they have in the Cafeteria.” The answer, of course, was none and the more devastating news...the cafeteria was closed.

“That guy must really be moved by Van Gogh’s work...look, he fainted!”

Best Gig Ever

I recently did a show with a friend of mine. He set up the gig and I was just happy for the extra change. We get to the gig to find out it’s outside at a fair and they are kids running around all over the place. Doing a stand-up comedy show outside, at a fair with little kids running around is like swimming in pirana infested water with rocks in your trunks. The rides and games were all going on during the show. I had to scream “Thank you! Good Night!!” at the end of my set to let people know I was done and they should stop playing skee-ball for a second and clap.

But I Play one on TV

An old college buddy of mine recently emailed me with an odd admission. A few years back I was in a GE commercial where I played a doctor who goes to Africa with a portable ultrasound machine and helps the natives in need of high tech western medicine. I actually did go to Africa for a week. An amazing experience indeed. It was a touching commercial, 1 minute long and ran during the ‘02 winter Olympics. It seems my buddy from college saw that commercial and thought I was a real doctor. Not happy with his job at that time and inspired by the fact that an old buddy had become a doctor he decided right then to go into medicine and now he’s in med school. Good thing I wasn’t in a commercial for the circus he might be walking the high wire for pennies. I guess GE does bring good things to life.

Boys in the Hood

I was recently doing an IBM photo shoot. Not Bragging that’s just my life. We had a break and I walk out in my IBM business casual attire and see the rapper The Game hanging out right outside of the studio. I gave The Game a slight nod. I didn’t want to come off as a groupie. Sure, he sold 4 million copies of his Album but... I’m doing an IBM photo shoot. My face may be noticeable in next week’s Business Week. Clearly we are peers in this showbiz game.

I call my girlfriend to tell her and just then Tyrese, the singer/actor, pulls up. Some kind of baller convention and I wasn’t invited? Must be an over sight right? But anyway I’m here now where I should be. Platinum recording artists/ Big time movie actors and me Mr. Featured Background player in a photo shoot. My girl says Tyrese is sexy. Didn’t need to hear that. Then she asks what kind of car he’s driving. In my mind I said “Your man drives a Saturn. That’s all you need to worry about!!” but what I actually said was “I think a Bentley” I’m sure driving a hundred thousand dollar car made him a lot less “sexy” in her eyes.

After a few minutes the actor Lorenze Tate pulls up. I’m fighting the good fight trying to not look phased by all the Big Willie-ism surrounding me or by Tyrese wearing on his neck what I made all of last year.

At this point the food lady comes out and offers me a lemon Icee. I accepted without even thinking about it. I mean Luigi Icees are delicious. So the picture is The Game, Tyrese and Lorenze Tate with their respective factions (factions: nice word for posse). Several posse members are passing around a joint. They’re tatted up and have bandanas, wife beaters and Jerzees on. I’m standing not 10 feet away in my IBM business casual uniform eating an Icee. And it was only at that moment that I realized how tubular and phallic the Icee was. I have never felt less cool or less masculine. Good thing the Icee wasn’t rainbow flavored. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)

Dogtown Poser

I’m walking along Hermosa Beach. Some teenagers skateboard by with battery powered skateboards. Each skateboard motor is attached to a long wire that I’m guessing controls acceleration. A couple is walking in front of me. The guy looks like a thirty something professional (accountant or maybe nurse practitioner.) The women says “Cool! Check out those skateboards” The guy instantly replies “I have one, except mine is wireless” I would bet my lunch money that this guy can’t even skateboard let alone operated a wireless remote supped up board. I just hope that when they got home she asked him to see the skateboard. Lucky for him there weren’t some guys out there break dancing or walking on glass or eating fire. Pretending to be the man can be dangerous...

Second Hand Dance

I dropped off some stuff at Goodwill today. One man’s junk is another man’s junk. Except the second guy pays for it. I usually don’t condone this sort of thing but I think it would be great to steal from the goodwill. Don’t get your pants in a bunch. I’m not saying take from the needy. It’s a two-parter. After you steal it you come back and “donate” it.

Goodwill guy: That’s odd. This is the second pair of leather skinned, leopard color MC Hammer pants we got in this week.

You: That’s weird. You know there were only three of these made in the whole world. What are the odds?! Maybe you should play Lotto tonight...Oh Yeah...Make that Tax deduction form out to...

Where Are My Roots?

Here’s an excerpt from a conversion I recently overheard in a Los Angeles coffee shop. Both women were white.

Women 1: I bet you were Asian-Pacific in your past life
Women 2: Actually I think I was black in my previous life.
Women 1: What makes you say that?
Women 2: People always say I was black in my previous life.

Is this something that comes up often? Always? Has guessing what someone was in a previous life become the new “What’s your sign?” I envy anyone who lives in a city where this conversation would have NOT been normal.

“In my previous life I was a Persian Virgo with a moon rising in Gemini.”
“Oh, that’s why we get along so well!”

Not You Again

I’m riding in my homey Dan’s car. At a red light we look over and see some friends. Now, one kinda cool thing that happens in LA from time to time is that you see people you know in traffic. It’s actually not that random or special but your mind always tells you something cosmic just happened. So we exchange pleasantries and bask in the unlikelihood of our chance encounter. The light turns green and both cars drive off. We proceeded to be right next to them at the next 9 lights. We couldn’t drive 2 blocks without hitting a light. The first 3 lights we looked over and nodded. Remember us from 3 blocks ago. After that it got real awkward and uncomfortable. I would say we bordered on being hostile. We even considered turning to avoid them but we had already told them where we were going. By light number nine we avoided them like a man avoids looking at a mother breast feeding. You try so hard not to look that you draw more attention to the thing than if you would just look. I guess familiarity does breed contempt.

Straight eye for the queer profession

I flew Southwest from LAX to Vegas. Southwest is so low budget the male flight attendant was not gay. He was like some tatted up bald headed guy named Mel who looked like he was on work release. I guess Southwest just isn’t fierce enough.