Your mom doesn’t want to hear jokes about your sex life, even if the joke is that you don’t have one…

It’s true.

I know cause I sent my mom the link to my Live at Gotham preview ( the other day, and she never responded to the e-mail. Her only daughter on TV… almost… and she has no comment. Strange-o, huh?

I thought so, so I called her and was like, “Hey, Ma. Did you watch that video clip I sent you?” And she said, “Yes.” And I said, “Well what did you think?” And she says, “Who did your makeup? It looked good.”

Ummm… was that an answer to the question? Me thinks not.

So then I said, “They had professional makeup people there.  What did you think of the clip, though?” And then she said, “They liked it.” Of course since you were not privy to her tone, I feel the need to clarify that ‘they’ is a reference to the club full of heathens that laughed at a joke about me not having sex and the virgin birth.

Whatevs, Ma. You gotta loosen up.

Her selective prudishness cracks me up sometimes… That’s why I took complete pleasure in catching her off guard this afternoon. I got my tax stimulus check in the mail and called to tell her (I was under the assumption that I wasn’t gonna get one at all). Here’s how the conversation went:

Me: Guess what, Ma?

My Ma: What?

Me: I got stimulated

My Ma (almost inaudibly): Oh… OK. By what…?

Me: Haha… I mean I got my tax stimulus check from the IRS.

My Ma: Oh good, because I didn’t know how to respond to that.

I heart her. THE END

What did YOU do this weekend? I solved a crime.

Yay! So last nite I took BFF Kellz to a murder mystery dinner theatre to celebrate her birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY KELLZ!!!


Yes I know. I’m old. But we were both really looking forward to it. From everything I’ve ever seen or heard about dinner theatre, I expected it to be kinda cheesy. And Blair Mansion Inn did not disappoint. That is not to say that we didn’t really enjoy ourselves. We did! Me and Kellz are kinda cheesy too ;)


We got there around 6:30 for drinks and ordervs (I refuse to Google to find the correct spelling of that word. I’m comfortable with the afore-typed ignorance). Then came the dinner buffet. We each ordered a glass of Riesling and waited for the show to start. 

The crowd was really interesting. There was a group of recovering military and staff from Walter Reed Army Hospital there, some senior citizens, a table in the corner that looked like the Negro Last Supper, a family with a little kid (who totally didn’t get the spank-the-monkey reference made by one of the ‘actors’ but laughed just the same), a woman from Sri Lanka, a couple from Budapest (they were ‘hungary’ — not my joke).

Here’s a synopsis of the play we saw —  Three Strikes & You’re Dead:

The Maryland Crabballs, holding a strong last place position in the Virtual Baseball League (VBL), Is proud to announce a major acquisition to its starting line-up. Jose Canstriko, the league’s all-star center fielder will be joining the Balls, effective immediately. Excited at the prospect, young billionaire owner B.O. Smelly has commented that “Jose will be a valuable new member to our baseball family.” The team manager, Major Constance Strain, is somewhat concerned that this addition to the roster could disrupt his plans for the team, which is lead by its current center fielder, Willie Daze. Willie is accompanied by his overbearing wife, Stormy Daze, who’s here to protect her investment…namely Willie’s million dollar contract. Hopefully, Willie’s agent, Anita Deal, can pull some strings and get him a better contract.

The question is, when the dust clears and it’s all on the line, will the outcome be “fair or will it be a strike out” in the most permanent manner? Namely, Dead.

You be the judge……

Yeah, I know ;)

Jose died at the table next to us — with the hungary couple.


Getting rid of the evidence….


Did the compulsive gambling team manager do it?


Who knows?…

I liked that the show was interactive. We were encouraged to talk to the actors, which, as a stand-up, is weird at first… You kinda don’t want to interact because it feels a hell of a lot like heckling, but then you realize that’s what makes the show. By the end I was just shouting stuff out. It was like payback therapy. I hearted it ;)

In the end, Detective Justin Case helped us to examine the clues and determine who the murderer was…


TA DA!!!! I won’t spoil it for those of you who are just dying to see this show. I would totally do it again. It was just like I thought it would be and that was fine with me. I recommend it — more for the experience than the theater.

Two thumbs up.

EJ Out.

Double Blognificence — “What What” South Park Style

OK… my love for Samwell has been documented. He really is hilarious and such a sweet guy. We are friends now. Don’t be jealous y’all. Hopefully we can collaborate on something soon. I would love that… Get at me Sam!

But yesterday someone sent me something I hadn’t seen before — the South Park “What What in the Butt” parody… And I haven’t been able to stop laughing. So this is my gift to you on this holiday weekend. Don’t say I never gave you a Memorial Day gift.

Please disregard the opening credits. Kinda crass, but I can’t do anything about that… Note: the irony of me apologizing for the opening credits will be readily apparent after watching the video.

And for those of you not familiar with Samwell, I have to hip you to the original video…

And Part II (this is the funnier part) of his ‘revealing’ in -depth interview… My boy’s lip gloss is poppin’

A Phenom With Flaws


Below is an excerpt from Michael Gerson’s column in today’s Washington Post. Definitely worth reading the entire column. It gives a pretty objective look at his candidacy — its flaws and its high points — but also highlights the undeniable fact that Obama’s campaign has changed this country. I really enjoyed it. Hopefully you will too.

75,000 and one.

Source | Image Source

Is Barack Obama a weak presidential candidate or a strong one? The answer is: yes.

…As a result of all these factors, Obama and McCain are running fairly even in respected polls such as Gallup, alternately trading the lead by a few points — at a time of massive anti-Republican discontent during which Obama should be cleaning McCain’s clock.

Yet I cannot get two figures out of my mind — 75,000 and one. There were 75,000 attendees at Obama’s Portland, Ore., rally on Sunday — a monumental political achievement, found at the confluence of organization and enthusiasm. Obama does not merely talk of a new kind of politics; his charisma, story and tone symbolize a shift in political eras. Obama voters believe they are changing politics forever — a claim that Al Gore or John Kerry could never credibly make. At its best, this desire to break the dominance of politics-as-usual motivated support for John Kennedy and the New Frontier. At its worst, it motivated support for professional wrestler Jesse Ventura to be governor of Minnesota — he won nearly half of young voters in a three-way election. In either case, it is hard to bet against excitement and idealism.

The “one” is Mark McKinnon — a media adviser to McCain, a friend and former colleague of mine, a Texas Democrat who strongly supported George W. Bush, and a man of great decency and integrity. Early last year, he gave me a copy of Obama’s book “The Audacity of Hope” and said he had informed the McCain team that he could not help lead a general election campaign against Obama. This week, McKinnon kept his word by resigning (though remaining a strong “friend and fan” of the McCain campaign).

It is a reminder of something that Republicans — even in the busy strife of a campaign — should not forget or underestimate. Obama is a serious, thoughtful, decent adult who will attract the sympathy of other serious, thoughtful, decent adults. He has evident flaws, but the inspiration he evokes is genuine. His policy views are conventionally liberal, but his story is not a scam. And, in some ways, his election would finally make sense of an American story that includes Antietam and Selma.

The enthusiasm of many Republicans and conservatives to defeat Hillary Clinton would have come unbidden. Against Obama, it will come harder.

I want to want to skip

I was on the bus this morning and I was sitting behind this little girl and her mom. She had on a cute little plaid school uniform, a ponytail with ribbons in her hair (the little girl, not the mother ;). She was adorable. When they first got on, she asked if she could sit on the inside seat so she could pull the “stop” cord. And she was so excited when she got to pull it! Then when her stop came — “ an elementary school about a half mile from my house — she got off the bus, waved back to her mom and skipped down the sidewalk to the front door.

I used to skip.

But I don’t think anyone/thing/place excites me like that anymore.

And though I know it’d be wildly unsexy and probably just plain inappropriate for me to skip anywhere now, I kinda want to skip.

Or maybe I just want to want to skip.

I’ve heard older folks say stuff like “Enjoy your youth” or “I wish I could be a kid again.” But I’ve never really identified. Maybe it’s because I’ve never thought I was old. But this morning I found myself actually envying an 8 year-old. With all the crap going on in the world, this little girl has a place that makes her so happy she has to skip to get there; what filled my heart even more was that she was skipping to get to SCHOOL.

A little black girl in Southeast D.C. so excited about school she almost ran to get there. Why isn’t that the lead story on the news?

I feel like there’s so much more I could say about how I feel right now, but I think I wanna keep it for myself ;)

But really, do our breasts have to touch?

Alright, so all comics — all people for that matter — have their own neuroses. Anyone that knows me even casually is probably pretty aware that I am not a fan of unsolicited or unwarranted hugging, European cheek kissing, etc. In fact ‘not a fan of’ is really an understatement.

I absolutely hate it.

A lot of people assume it’s because I’m a “germaphobe” or something. But that’s not the case at all. I just think hugging is a really intimate a gesture. I used to do a bit about how I reserve hugs for people I’m dating and really special occasions — when I see people I haven’t seen in a really long time. Like if I saw my grandmother, I’d hug her because she passed away in 1993 and reincarnation is a legitimately hugworthy event. Blah, blah, blah. There was more to it and it was only moderately funny, but I loved the bit because I felt like I was being really honest about something that really bugs me that I think a lot of people could identify with, but apparently it just made me seem like an icy jerk.

People would come up to me after the show and say stuff like, “Well, I really enjoyed your show. But I’m NOT gonna hug you…” Real snarky-like. As if they were punishing me. And I’d always be thinking GREAT!!! Cause in case you missed it, NOT hugging me is exactly what I want for you to do.

(I mean, scientifically, has not hitting the bitch achieved the desired result?)

Please pardon my A.D.D. That last sentence just reminded me of this episode…

But back to the point. Why would you even think a hug is the appropriate gesture for this situation anyway?

“Hey, I really think you’re funny. Now let’s rub our boobs together.”


A couple of weeks ago I went out to help my friend Dawan celebrate his birthday, and he and a few other folks thought it would be cute to take a series of photos where people were trying to hug me or put me in semi-headlocks. And you know what? It WAS cute.

Please read the irony.


Right about here I was thinking, “If it wasn’t your birthday I’d probably try to fight you. And you with the camera, Walk home.”


I hated every second of it. My mom says I was like that even as a kid. I’m sure I should probably be in therapy somewhere… But until I can find a therapist who accepts CVS Extra Care Bucks for payment, I’m gonna need y’all to stop it.

John that means you ;)

Lotte-REALLY? and white wine


I don’t play the lottery. Never have. The other day one of my friends told me she plays but only when the jackpot is over $200 million. Now that’s a lot of money, sure, but so is $20 million, $50 million, $100 million… I’m not sure how often the jackpot gets that large, but I do know that when it does, it takes me like 20 minutes to buy a fifth of Jack at the liquor store on the corner. Damn gamblers… Move out the way for us alcholics. But I digress…

I asked my girl why $200 mil was her cutoff and she explained that nearly half of your winnings are taxed. So if you won like $100 million, you’d only get $50 million… etc., etc. as if somehow that wasn’t worth it.

I then punched her in the throat.

Cause like I said, I’m not a fan of the lottery, but if you are and you’ve ever rationalized not playing because you were only going to NET $50 million of your $100 million jackpot, you’re an idiot. You spend 7 dollars to win 100 dollars and I’d call that a success. You spend 7 dollars to win 50 million, sit down and STFU.


This weekend I discovered that white wine is the devil.

On Saturday nite, I did two shows at a theatre in DC with some good lady buds of mine. Before I went up at the first show my fave funnygirl Diana Saez was sipping on a white wine, so in my attempt to appear equally sophistocated I ordered the same.

Glass and a half and I was on my ass. Now I can drink whiskey/bourbon like a champ but this white wine did things to me, y’all. I was super loose and had what – from what I remember of it – was a pretty good set. The cup was sitting on a stool on the stage and at one point during the set I remember talking directly to it. I sang, “WHITE WIIIIINE…” to the tune of Grandmaster Flash’s “White Lines.” I really need to see the tape.

When I got off stage, Diana said something like E, you were great. You should loosen up before you go on stage more often.” And even in my inebriated state, I recognized that that was not a good idea. It did not however stop me from having another glass before the second show.

Oh wow. I only remember snippets from this show — and I remember it like a movie trailer… I know there was a Black guy sitting in the front row. He may have been the only Black guy at the show and I remember asking him if he knew about white wine. I told him that White folks had been trying to keep it a secret from us and that he should order a glass. I then asked another guy in the front row what his name was and I remember he had an accent. I guessed where he was from and then told the audience that the white wine gave me superpowers.

I know, I wish I had been there to see it too.

Here’s the thing folks. I recognize that I’m not nearly funny or famous enough to crash and burn yet, so I’m gonna chill on the white wine for now. But as soon as I make it big, move to Hollywood and buy a mansion, white wine is the only thing me and my beautiful white trophy wife will have in our subzero stainless steel refrigerator. Don’t be jealous.

EJ. Out.