We just wrapped taping for season 3 of “Exhale,” and I had a day off before I had to head up to Seattle for a show. So I decided to stay overnight in LA with BFF Dawan, rather than fly straight to Seattle and get a room. He lives a ways from the hotel where I was staying, but his daughter’s daycare was just a couple miles away. So I decided to meet him there and ride back to the house with him after he dropped her off.
Perfect. I’d save money by not paying for an Über to West LA during morning rush, and I didn’t have to inconvenience him at all. To make sure everything went smoothly, I planned to arrive about 15 minutes early and just wait outside or in the lobby of the daycare center. But when my taxi pulled up, I realized the daycare was located in a home on a quiet, residential street, and I was gonna have to stand in front of the house until Dawan arrived. I considered asking the taxi driver to keep the meter running until he got there, so I didn’t look like a toddler thief, but I am poor. So I hopped out. Here’s the thing about being an unfamiliar brown woman standing in front of a daycare with two suitcases, each of which could easily hold a toddler: there’s no way to not look suspicious.
I regularly do an hour onstage, but those 15 minutes outside that daycare felt every bit as long. That’s why I’m not angry at the woman who sat in her car, sizing me up for 3 minutes before she got out and walked towards the house clutching her daughter’s hand and her cell phone equally hard. And I’m not mad that once she was inside, she peeked her head back out the side door and pointed me out to someone inside. I probably would have done the same. As soon as Dawan got there and shifted his truck into park, I began wrestling my super heavy bags into his trunk. “Hang on. I’ll do it as soon as I drop her off,” he offered.
Nah. I got it. We should probably go right now.
Flew into LA for the day and the venue sent a towncar service to pick me up at the airport. I realized I didn’t have any cash when I got in the car, so I asked the driver if I could tip him on my card. He said he couldn’t do that, so when we pulled up to the hotel I asked the valet if there was an ATM inside. He said yes so I asked my driver to wait while I went in and got some money. I brought ten bucks (it wasn’t a great tip or anything) back to the car and gave it to him and he followed me back in to the hotel to tell me he’s been driving for 20 years and I’m maybe the third person who actually came back to the car after saying they’d be right back with a tip. Then he told me he was done for the day and took me to lunch with his tip. In real life.
The point of this story is: If you act like you have home training, sometimes an old white man takes you out for “kinda free” In-N-Out Burger and you wind up making an unlikely friend.
It genuinely pisses me (and every other comedian, for that matter) off when I tell someone about an unfortunate thing that has happened in my life and he/she responds with some variation of “well, at least it’s good material.” It’s unsympathetic and dismissive and I wasn’t running a bit by you; I was just trying to tell you some real shit. Plus, not every painful thing is funny.
That said, I hope Rheumatoid Arthritis turns out to be hilarious. My doctor believes I have it based on blood work, family history (my grandmother had RA and my mom has MS) and the problems I’ve been having with my knees and hands the last couple months. And if he’s right, I know that being able to laugh through it is going to help. I still have some testing left before an official diagnosis, so in the meantime I’ve been going to physical therapy, taking water aerobics classes with senior citizens and trying to find the bright side.
So far, this is what I’ve come up with in terms of bright side:
- Anyone can board a plane when the gate agent calls for passengers who need assistance — that’s even before first class and elite frequent flyers — and they won’t even question you. Zone 3 my ass… do you see this limp?
- You can get felt up three times a week by a hot physical therapist and your insurance will cover it (well, 80% of it after you meet your $5,000 deductible #Obamacare). I hope I feel better soon, but also I hope I don’t. I only hope that last part a little bit, though.
I don’t know how accurate the facts cited in this article are, but I choose to take them as gospel. Because if laughter is the key, I’m gonna be straight. I’ll keep you posted on the other positive things I learn about RA (or whatever’s up with me) and if you pray, please say a prayer for me.
Somebody help me get this monkey off my back.
This picture of me and Mindy the Monkey was taken during a show I had at the US Air Force Academy. Doesn’t she look excited? Don’t I look like I’m stifling a scream? There was… a lot going on at the venue. Comedy, exotic animals, caricatures, laser tag, mechanical bull riding, arts and crafts. I did an hour in the midst of all that… Some nites it actually feels like a job.
In a long airport security line and they open up another lane. The lady behind me grabs her son’s hand and runs to get in front of me.
ME: You have to be kidding. You were kidding, right?
LADY: Oh… yeah… you can go ahead of us.
ME: (big eyes)
As I often do when people tick me off, I wrote a collection of haiku about it. Wanna read it, here it go:
Get thee behind me
Jesus said that to Peter
Stay thine ass there too
Took you two minutes
To pull off your cowboy boots
And five dudes passed you
Haha serves you right
Musta thought I was a punk
I’m the opposite
While I was in LA this week, I left my cocoa butter at my best buddy Dawan’s house. He knows how much I love cocoa butter and has been sending me ransom demands ever since.
Seriously, who takes the time to smear cocoa butter on a knife and do a photo shoot? I have THE silliest (and by ‘silliest’ I mean ‘greatest’) friends.
I heart you, D.
Ruby red grapefruit
I’ll get in line when I’m done
Please quit rushing me
I wont push your things
On to the conveyor belt
That’s your job homie
I just got felt up
My bra triggered the alarm
Was it good for you
Last nite I was a guest on the “Drunk Dialing with Dontay” podcast with LA Hair’s Dontay Savoy and the fab Ms. Poohbie Davenport. It was an absolute blast! I love LA Hair. I’ve seen every episode and we had the show’s star, hair guru, Kim Kimble on “Exhale” last season. Dontay is handsome and hilarious and my favorite stylist on the show. So I literally jumped at the opportunity to do his podcast.
We talked comedy and “Exhale” and drunk texting, all while downing shots of Makers Mark. Because I got to choose the liquor. Which was clearly a setup… The convo got a little fresh after shot #2, but we’re all adults here, right? Right. You should definitely check it out. And subscribe to the podcast. Dontay is beyond hilarious. Here are a few more pics. Y’all can see where this is going…
Listen to the podcast here.