Creepin’ cops

Some friends and I ventured out to Marvin last nite for some free fun and the Michael Jackson Birthday Tribute Party.

I know it doesn’t look like I’m having a good time here, but that’s just because my friend Keisha and I like to take photos and pretend she drags me out of the house and forces me to go to parties against my will. Please see Exhibit B from my birthday this year:

Moving on, we didn’t get to the party til about 11:30 pm. — cause I was pressed to watch the (very underwhelming) season finale of Real Housewives of New Jersey and because the Monday old school party at Marvin doesn’t even start til 10. Yes on a Monday. Don’t judge us. I do *this* for a living and Keisha is on vacay this week…

I didn’t get home til after 2 am. And because it was so late, there was no parking on my block so I circled around and ended up having to park a couple blocks from my building. As I was getting out of the car I saw a DCMP squad car coming down the block. The officer driving the car slowed to ask if I was OK getting back to the building and I said sure, thanks to the new ultra bright street lights that were recently installed in my neighborhood. Making small talk while I gathered my stuff out of the back seat, I asked when they were installed since I only noticed after I came home from my last trip. “Vacation?” he asked. No, I travel for work… What kind of work do I do? I’m an entertainer.

Now I’m starting to walk towards my building and the officers are driving slowly next to me.

“My partner is kinda in love with you,” said the driver cop.

And that’s when it started to feel weird… The cop on the passenger side leaned across his partner and started asking questions: What’s my name? (so tempted to say Puddin’ Tain). What kind of entertainer?… I knew they were police officers but I don’t care what your job is, if you’re a man creeping down the block trying to holler at 2am, I don’t need you knowing my name, what I do for a living, and where I live right off the jump. I appreciated their gesture and even if their motivation wasn’t 100% genuine concern for my well-being, I was happy to see them there patrolling the neighborhood. But I picked up my phone pretended to dial and waved goodbye to them as I got to my gate.

The hilarious Leighann Lord said I may have missed out on a “how I met your Daddy” story. And maybe she’s right, but I was super uncomfortable… I swear if they hadn’t been cops, I probably would have called the police.

And now I leave you with the song that was running thru my head the entire time cop #2 was talking across his partner to ask me questions:

Someone stole my car. But they took so much more.

This is all that’s left of my car.


Someone stole it early yesterday morning. There were 7 car break-ins on my block, but mine appears to be the only one that was taken. As y’all know I need my car to do my job. Travel is a huge part of being a comic and if I can’t get from one gig to the next… well you understand.

The insurance company tried to comfort me by telling me that 65% of all stolen cars are recovered. But that means very little when I have to be in Jersey tomorrow nite and had to pay to rent a car on my own. And the 35% chance of having to get a new car (not new, new though. I’ll never do that again) when I have exactly no money is so frightening.

The thing I will never understand (and I’m aware that this is going to sound awful) is why people who don’t have much and live in the hood steal from other people in the hood… It’s like if you have to take sh!t, go to the high-rent districts where people have cars to spare. We’re over here trying to make it just like them. They stole my 10-year old Corolla which has been awesome and hella reliable but also had just 3 hubcaps, lots of scratches and a big dent on the right side. It’s pretty obvious that that’s all I have. The GPS I was gifted that helps me out when I’m working on the road, my video camera, tripod… all of that was in there. I have no idea how I’m gonna recoup that considering the Blue Book of the car is less than $2,000 and well, I’m a comedian who’s had a very slow summer. It was worth so much more.

They gotta find it. That’s it.

It’s not delivery, it’s…

No not DiGiorno.

So yes, I live in Southeast D.C. Do I live in the worst neighborhood? No. On a scale of 1 to 10 (10 being: DUCK NINJA!), I’d rate the relative sheist of mine and the surrounding blocks a 6.

So why did the delivery guy at the Chinese spot tonite say that he’d deliver my food, but I had to walk to the end of the block to pick it up? That doesn’t sound like delivery at all, especially when you consider that the damn carry out is only like three blocks away. I’m already in my jammies and my hair is wet, or else normally I’d walk and get it myself. I told him I wouldn’t be walking to the corner and he says, “Why you don’t just pick up? You lazy.”


Note to Danny’s Chinese Food and Sub Shop Owner because he/she is a regular reader: 1) You can’t advertise delivery and then tell people they’re lazy when they ask for their dinner to be delivered. On their menu it ‘clearly’ — and i use this word hesitantly — says “WE DELIVERY – MENIMUM 10 DOLLAR FOOD”. (hahaha :)

2) You chose to set up your business in the hood. So if safety is the reason your driver doesn’t want to deliver in the neighborhood, then you need to find someone who will.

I was telling my friend Dawan who was over for some Chinese yumminess a few months back that I’ve had several talks with the delivery guy on the occasions when I didn’t go pick up my food about how he refuses to look me in the eye. I hesitate to even use this cliche, but ‘I was raised’ to spend my money only with people who show me respect. Delivery dude doesn’t even say hello to me when he comes, and he takes my money and gives me change all without looking at me. I probably would have quit this carry out months ago if it weren’t so amazingly delicious. But here’s the thing, when I asked him why he won’t make eye contact with me, he tells me that he was robbed twice when delivering food and that the people who did it told him not to look at him — to forget their faces — and scared him from reporting the incident to the police.

Now even in the midst of all my stomach-growling pulpitting, I have to admit I felt bad for him then. BUT I have lost all sympathy now that he called me lazy. Anywayz, let me go and try and find something to put in my tummy. Latah.