Erin | Erin Jackson | Stand-Up Comedian

Ripped from the headlines

Or, you know, my text convos…

I just finished listening to game tape from a set I did back on May 6 in Cincinnati. The audience was awesome and towards the end of the show, I asked them if they’d gone out the night before for Cinco de Mayo. A bunch of them had, but no one seemed to know what the day actually signifies. So I told them what my friend Damon told me it was…

I cannot take credit for all the ignorance that comes out of my mouth; sometimes, I’m just the conduit. But this fool said, “Sing, sing, celebrate,” y’all. I hate him for this. And you should, too.

I’m back

Today, I went to L’Oreal USA Headquarters so my girlfriend, Cataanda, could give me the first real haircut I’ve had since most of them fell out about a year and a half ago. I wore braids for most of that time, in order to allow it grow without the stress of daily styling. And today, I reaped the fruits of my (lack of) labor; I L-O-V-E the cut!

Cataanda is an equally amazing hairstylist, make-up artist and human being, with whom I’ve worked for about seven or eight years. She beat my face for Last Comic Standing, all my headshots and she did my hair and makeup for the last season of Exhale. I linked to her website because it’s the right thing to do, but I really don’t want to share her with y’all. Matter of fact, if I ever need an appointment and I find out one of y’all booked her, ~~we’re fighting~~ we fightin’. She’s the only person I trust with my hair, now. When she wasn’t available one week last summer, I made an appointment with the stylist I went to all through high school… Not only did he get scissor-happy, but he cut a chunk out of the right side of my hair–the hair I was trying so desperately to grow back. And then he and his co-worker tried to convince me that it looked good–as if my giant eyeballs couldn’t see the mirror a foot in front of me. I swear it was like that episode of “Martin” where Gina forgets to put the neutralizer in Myra’s hair, and they try to convince her she looks beautiful bald.

“You gave Myra a perm with no neutralizer???”

But, I digress.

Me and Cataanda

Cataanda is ALL the superlatives. And she totally gave me a 5th Avenue haircut at the homegirl rate. I feel like I’m back! It may not be feminist or India Arie-ist or whatever, but I always feel good about me when my hair is pretty.

And I feel good about me today.

Fractions

I don’t know why the name of this bank bothers me so much, but for years, whenever I’m in the Midwest and see it, I wanna scream,? “REDUCE THE FRACTION!!!” It should be 1 ^2/3 bank.^* Per Wikipedia:

“Fifth Third’s unusual name is the result of the June 1, 1908, merger of Third National Bank and Fifth National Bank, to become the Fifth-Third National Bank of Cincinnati (the hyphen was later dropped).”

Well, you know what? That’s dumb. My friend Hanna said that, since it was a merger, they should have just called it Eighth Bank. Because: addition. I guess we should just be glad they didn’t call it 3/5 Bank. Because: slavery.

I bet the Third National Bank people fought to have their name first, though. I bet they were all, “We were two national banks ahead of you! Our name should go first!!!” I wonder how close they came to that catastrophe. I’m willing to bet they had all the stationery printed, bought the domain name (yes, in 1908)… and then a dude named Earl came in like, “Aww naw! Hell naw, man!” ^**

I know nothing about the quality of services they provide, but I hate this bank.

_{*actual neuroses, not a joke.}
_{*joke, not an indication of actual wiilingness to bet}

You don’t want it with Philly

Do you think you did that last season, dude? Because 7-7, 19 TDs, 14 INTs and 10 fumbles. So, no. Nope. GTFOH.

Sometimes I get booked to work a weekend somewhere, and when I get there I find out I’ll be opening for a comic I don’t believe is as strong as I am. But they’ve got a lot of heat or have a better resume than I do… I don’t complain to club management or the booker (that’s what friends are for); my job at that point is just to be as funny as I can and show the club that I deserve to come back to close the next year.

If someone could please explain this concept to Sam Bradford, I’d be super appreciative. No need for this tantrum, bruh. It’s not like you balled out last year or were a longtime member of the squad who deserved better. You just got to Philly! And you only have a 2-year contract. You knew the Eagles weren’t committed to you long term, anyway.

In a recent column, Peter King writes:

What I would say to Bradford:
1. You have earned the right to be ticked off that the Eagles are going to draft a quarterback intended to beat you out.
2. You have not earned the right to go on strike over it.
3. You have been paid massively and so far have not produced to justify what the Rams and Eagles have paid you.
4. You control your fate. Be the best quarterback in camp, and you’ll play. Compete.

Yes, yes, yes to all of the above. Do what you claimed you were willing to do last year, Sam: “Prove to everyone that [you] belong here.” Real ballers ball. Plus, you don’t want it with Philly.

Also, effffffffffffffffffffffffffff Chip Kelly.

Rest In Peace, You Sexy MF

The hilarious Sara Benincasa wrote this article for Playboy back in 2014. I read it then, but I needed it today. So funny. So freakin’ true.

#RIPPrince

Just say YES

When I was younger I was a social butterfly; I STAYED in the street. I threw rent parties and dinner parties. I took impromptu trips. I dated. A lot. But in the years since, I’ve become increasingly antisocial. Maybe it’s because life on the road breeds an unhealthy level of comfort with isolation. Maybe it’s because I work nights and weekends while everyone else is hanging out. Maybe I’ve just been in a nasty rut. Maybe I was depressed…

Whatever the reason, it led to a mini (read: MEGA)-breakdown back in early February when my friend Damon asked me, “What do you do for fun when you’re not working?” and I couldn’t come up with anything except, “I don’t know… I read books.”

I. READ. BOOKS. Y’all. All the tears.

Later that evening, I was talking to another friend who asked me if I’d heard about Shonda Rhimes’ new book. He’d seen her on OWN and thought it might be relevant to what I was going through. I hadn’t, but my focus shifted immediately to the unopened Amazon box on the floor next to the sofa. Days earlier, I’d received a package from my friend Wendy. And wait–hadn’t she mentioned something about Shonda Rhimes a few weeks ago? I ripped open the box and there it was.

If ever there was a more fortuitous moment it was in a fairy tale, I promise. And this passage that begins with, “Losing yourself…?” I could have put the book down right then ’cause that was church, but I knew there’d be more gems. I stayed up that nite and read it straight through.

I bought in completely. And I am committed in this, my very own “Year of Yes,” to finding myself. To doing things that are uncomfortable and challenging. To taking inventory of the people in my life, reinvesting in the relationships that enrich me and moving on from those that don’t.

I am so grateful to Shonda Rhimes (and Delores!!!) for “Year of Yes” and my friend and angel, Wendy, for seeing that I needed it. I used to roll my eyes when I heard people say you can just decide to be happy, but I now know it to be true. Since I finished the book I’ve made a new friend, hosted a party at my home, started boxing (something I’ve always wanted to do). I’ve moved on from someone I loved a great deal for a really long time. And you know what? I see hints of the old me beginning to resurface.

If you made it this far in the post and any of this resonates with you, I hope you’ll read this book and decide to say yes. Your happiness is up to you.

Big Sky

I just got back from a road trip that took me out to Montana and Wyoming for some college shows. Look at this photo! They don’t call Montana “Big Sky Country” for nothing!

It was my first time in Wyoming; I memorialized it with this photo. I’ve worked in 45 states now; all I’ve got left are Hawaii, New Mexico, the Dakotas and Utah. I’ve had several layovers in SLC airport, but layovers don’t count. I was in Montana last fall for a show with my favorite, Wendy Leibman, but were were in and out in the dark of night so I didn’t get to see how beautiful it was out there. I flew into Billings on Wednesday and then made the 2-hour drive to Sheridan Wyoming for my show that evening. On my way, I passed a highway sign for Little Bighorn Battlefield. I had about 6 hours until my show, so hell yeah for Custer’s Last Stand.

I got there about 30 minutes before they stopped letting people into the park so I didn’t even have to pay the $20 drive-through fee. There was a museum, several monuments, and an audio tour you could hear on your cell phone. I went through as much as I could before the rangers started pulling people out of the park. Such a cool bit of history. I love an adventure!

I put almost 800 miles on my rental car in the two days I was out there; Alamo Rent-A-Car was like “ummmm, never again.” It’d have been even more than that if the weather at Yellowstone hadn’t been so crummy. I probably added an extra 3 hours to my drive time by pulling over to take so many photos. But it was worth it. And it was easy driving. Those wide open highways are a joy to drive on, and with a speed limit of 80mph, my lead foot was in heaven. I often feel like I drive for a living and comedy is what I get to do when I get off. But I really do love seeing America. I have so many stories from almost every state. I would love to have a Hawaii story, next.

If you’re there, God, it’s me, EJ…

Memories

I’m back in the DC Metro area (McLean, VA to be exact) to do a corporate event tomorrow afternoon. And as I was headed towards my hotel, I realized I was driving right past the old Best Western Westpark Hotel building, which used to house Wiseacres Comedy Club. I don’t know how long it’s been empty; I haven’t been out this way in at least 6-7 years. But when I first started out in comedy, I was there every single Wednesday nite. Man. The open mics in that dark, dingy room are where I met some of my very favorite people. I learned how to write and workshop a joke there, learned how to be a good citizen of the comedy community. I was grateful for my 5 minutes on stage in that room, even when I went up 20th. And I never wanted to go home after those shows. Dinner and drinks after the mic? Absolutely. Work tomorrow? Who cares? That little dungeon will hold a place in my heart forever.

So much debauchery went down in here

Rob, Randy, Ryan, Jett, Diesel, Herbie, Dawan, Tim, Chris, Jimmy… I miss those days.

Those were great days.