Airplane Venom, Pt. II

To the turd that was seated in 15-D on American Airlines Flt. 1624 to Chicago O’Hare on Wednesday evening, I have one word for you — Valium.

Best I can tell, you’re taking a nap now, and I swear I’m so tempted to get up and take a photo of you once the fasten seatbelt sign goes off. I might just. But what I’m definitely gonna do, if I can catch you on the way off the plane, is give you one of my postcards so that you can read this blog once I post it. I used to be scared to do asshole-ish stuff like that… Like right now in this moment, the conservative Erin hologram on my left shoulder is whispering in my ear and saying, “Leave it alone, E. Yeah, that guy was a douche, but don’t stoop to his level.” But the bitchy Erin on my right shoulder is screaming in my ear and saying, “Get him, E! This is great for the act. Plus it’ll serve as equilibrium for punking out on that flight from O’Hare to Baltimore a couple weeks ago.

Now I know none of you know what the heck I’m talking about so here’s the background…

I was having a fine day. Found a laundry room at the hotel and did laundry so I didn’t have to travel to Indy with dirty clothes. Got to LAX and returned the rental car with plenty of time to spare. My bag which I was positive was gonna be overweight came in at 49.5 pounds. And my large tube of Extra Dry Skin Curel made it thru airport security — What? I get a little ashy when I fly. :)

I boarded the plane and put my bookbag under the seat in front of me. I also had a small plastic bag with a sweatshirt I bought in the airport and my coat. I put the coat and the plastic bag in the bin above my head. About 5-10 minutes after I’m all settled, an older gentleman a few rows ahead of me asks if he can move my sweatshirt and coat to a bin a little forward of his seat so that he could fit his bag in the one over my head. OK, dude. Sure. Thought nothing of it, put my iPod on. About 2 or 3 minutes after that the aforementioned douche a few rows up starts having a tantrum about how a coat and a bag mysteriously “jumped into” his compartment. He said something to the effect of “I was trying to make room for a real bag.” — which of course meant ‘his’ carry-on suitcase. I told him it was mine, but explained that I didn’t move it. Then he started huffing and puffing about not wanting to “be in charge of everyone’s stuff.” WTF, right? So I said, “What do u mean be in charge of it? Just close the… bin!” Now the ellipses are important because they show you where and how I edited myself. I didn’t see any kids, but my reflexive profanity would have still been inappropriate I’m sure. Continue reading →

Dude… I’m so not lovin’ it

I tried to stay quiet about this ”McNugget Lovin” ish. Really I did. But I can no longer hold my tongue… I don’t know which commercial I hate more, this new McNugget commercial or the “You better don’t” McDonald’s chicken strip commercials from a few years back. But I’m seeing a pattern that when Mickey D’s is trying to sell chicken, they get extremely stereotypical with it. I don’t want to call their marketing campaigns racist, but their marketing campaigns are pretty freaking racist. Before I continue with this blog, I need each of you to watch this clip below of my good friend Vince Morris on Def Jam a couple seasons ago… And then we’ll talk on the other side.

Vince Morris Def Comedy Jam

Vince is so right about the way ad agencies market things to and within the Black community. It really is laughable that they think they have the formula figured out — that all it takes is some random brown person shuckin’ and jivin’ to get us out to the stores. Because for so many of us, these stereotypical-ass commercials have the complete opposite effect. In light of what went on during the past year in this country — the way all kinds of minorities came together and disproved the belief that we are monolithic. One dimensional. In light of the fact that the next president of the United States is a Black man… I am offended by commercials like these, and I question how the actors involved can righteously accept these roles. Sure I understand the need to make a living as a performer. But damn…

I’m not a fan of the Hilshire Farms “GO MEAT” commercials either.

But at least the ones in video form are… diverse (this is my best attempt at the ‘say something nice’ challenge). But the ads that come on Black radio… Puhleeze. No really, I’m going back to my Sarah Palin “Bitch Please” face. I mean, “Go mama. (YEAH!) Hilshire Farms, mama… (YEAH!)” Really? If I were a radio station program director with an ounce of social responsibility, I’d have a really hard time running those ads.

Exhale. I could go on about this forever. How do y’all feel? Do you think these commercials are offensive? Or just silly? Am I overreacting? Gimme a holler and let me know.

My new crush and birth control

So most of you who know me personally or read on a regular basis know that I have a serious crush on BFF Angi’s son, Roman. So far I’ve chronicled his disdain for Sarah Palin and his Halloween adventures. He’s super adorable and from all reports is a consistently happy and pleasant baby — the kind of kid every new mother or woman who’s thinking about having a baby prays for. But after hearing the story his mom told me on Saturday afternoon, I’m pretty sure I’m not ready for kids anytime soon. My current dating status dictates that birth control is… well, under control, but if I had a need for it, I would totally get on the pill today.

BFF Angi just posted an entry on Roman’s blog about what we now refer to as Operation Stinky Panera. If you don’t have kids yet, but think you like and/or want them, read this post … just to make sure.

You’re welcome.

Source

From the Blog to the Stage: The only Black thing in Abercrombie & Fitch

Hey there y’all! I’m back with the second installment of my “From the Blog to the Stage” series. The post this bit is based on goes back a little further than the last one… Before you watch the clip, check out this post from January 20 (MLK Day, incidentally) about my visit to a local Abercrombie & Fitch. Good times.

Lemme know what you think? Is it a keeper? You get to decide. My act is in your hands.

No more strippers. Ever. Ever.

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So I recently was charged with planning a bachelorette party for one of my girlfriends. None of the bridesmaids involved in the planning lived in the city where the party had to take place and none of us lived near each other, so it was a bit of a challenge to coordinate the logistics.

We figured it’d be simple: Find a dance club or a strip club (although I used to be a stripper myself, I’m not a fan of male dancers ;), pile a bunch of ladies in a car and call it a nite… But after we called around a bit we found that there were no male strip clubs — or is it female strip clubs (not sure what you would call a club where men dance — is it a male strip club because the dancers are male, or a female strip club because it’s primarily for women… who knows?…) Anyway, there were tons of places to see dancing girls, but none for boys.

Now we gotta find a freelance wardrobe-removal consultant (I believe that’s the proper PC term for this career) So naturally we turned to Myspace… The rate wasn’t outrageous — $200 for a private show — so I said sure let’s go for it, and we locked it in.

We rented a suite for the nite, bought a bunch of liquor, and had the bride convinced that we weren’t gonna do anything wild — just drink, listen to music and hang out on her next to last nite of single-ness ;) Dude was scheduled to arrive around 10:30 but he didn’t show up until well after 11. Then when he came to the door, he was still in his street clothes — no cop or electrician or room service uniform. Just a dude in jeans with a suitcase. Totally ruined the surprise “Where do I change?” he asked.

“Really?” I shouted back. Continue reading →

Dude looks like a lady… kinda

Each year on the Tuesday before Halloween, thousands of Washingtonians come out to Dupont Circle for the annual High Heel Race. Dupont is the center of DC’s gay community and the high heel drag race is an event where a bunch of men dressed in drag and other crazy costumes come out and put on a mini-parade which culminates in a race down 17th Street. I’ve been attending religiously for the past 4 or 5 years and I heart it.

I had a pretty bad day today. Got some awful news that completely bummed me out. I almost didn’t go but as I was sitting at home on my sofa I thought to myself, “What better way is there to pull yourself out of a funk than to go to something so ridiculous?” So I got up and went and I’m super glad I did.

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This is me and my bud, Kojo. I brought him to the race for the first time last year. It took some convincing, but after last year’s event I think he was hooked. Now he’s my drag race road dawg ;) Continue reading →

Dear Some White Lady:

Dear “Some White Lady:”

Thank you sooooo much for the comments you left on the blog tonite. You literally made my nite ;) I guess the verdict is in. White people do have cousins. Now it’s time to let the world know!!!

Tee hee ;) It’s always fun to get an unexpected comment on an old blog. I busted out laughing just from reading your username. I may have to give you Alan’s contact info. I think you guys would hit it off. Sounds like you have a lot in common ;)

Ahhh…. some days y’all do the work for me ;)

An understandable mistake

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This morning I gargled with Mr. Clean w/ Febreze. And no this wasn’t some “Take me with you, M.C.” statement as a result of his passing. The color and the bottle kinda resembled my Family Size Arctic Mint Listerine. They were both on my bathroom counter, I was half-sleep, and I hadn’t put my contacts in yet.

YUCK!