What I've Been Doing

The blog has seen a recent drought. My bad. As I've mentioned here before, when there's a blog drought, that means I'm working on other things.

My DVD, Chinese Secrets, is now finished with editing. There's a sketch in the beginning, featuring Meg Cupernall. And there's an hour of stand-up too. Now all we have to do is finalize the packaging, order them, and hope people buy them.

Quincy and I just completed editing our first short film. And we're shooting another in a week or so. We won't be able to put them online until June. But I thought you should know that's in your back pocket. Rest easy, folks.

I have a lot of stand-up dates to add to the website too. But for some reason I keep putting it off. I have to wait until I have the energy to open Dreamweaver.

I made two situations weird for other people this week.

I was in CVS with my roommate, Pat House, on Wednesday night. He said he wanted to buy a soda. While he was doing that, I was browsing the Ben and Jerry's. I looked to my right and saw him looking at gallons of milk. At least I thought it was him. It was a guy with the same color hair. Same jacket. Same height. But it was not him. He bent down to pick up a gallon of whole milk. I said, "You're getting milk from CVS? What a fucking weirdo." The guy did not respond because he was not my roommate. I looked at ice cream for a couple more seconds, until he walked behind me. Then I followed him to the register. At first, I said, "I don't know why I'm physically unable to not buy Ben and Jerry's. I should just get pregnant so it at least makes sense." Once again, he didn't respond. Because once again, he was not my roommate. As we walked to the register, I continued to taunt him for buying milk at CVS when we live next to a grocery store. No response. While we were waiting in line, I noticed that his hair was a little shorter than usual. So I said, "Someone got a haircuuuuut!" Then his face turned slightly and I discovered this guy looked nothing like my roommate. I panicked and walked away. In retrospect, I should have apologized. Or he could have said, "I don't know you." But it was probably my duty to apologize, not his.

Item #2.

Watch that video. The song, Smell Yo Dick, is as catchy as California Dreamin'.

I started a day job a little over a month ago. Over the past five years, I have only had a job for five months. So this is very foreign to me. I don't understand what's appropriate, and I cross the line too often. Example: I brought something into a lawyer's office. He was playing Lionel Ritchie's "Easy" at the time. When I got back to my desk, I IM'd him, "You have to warn me the next time you're playing Lionel Ritchie. Had I known, before I came, I would have slipped into something sexy." No response.

But the big oops was when I was at my desk singing, "Let me smell yo dick." I was into it. You can't sing that song and not be into it. Then I noticed a presence behind me. A middle-aged Jamaican lady was behind me, observing my performance. I handled it like a champ. I pretended it didn't happen and said, "Hey, what's up?" My calm made her forget about it. It's the closest thing to a Jedi Mind Trick that I have ever pulled off.

The subject of the song is confusing. Before I listened to the song, I heard the title and thought it was a new sex act: Dick sniffing. I thought it was weird and didn't understand who gets what out of that.

"She smelled my dick, son."

"Oh shit! Word?"

Then I found out that you're supposed to do it if you think your boyfriend/husband/whatever has been cheating. There are other solutions. How about asking, "Are you cheating on me?" That usually solves it. You can tell if someone is lying. It's a violation of trust, although if you're up for dick-sniffing, you probably aren't a trusting person to begin with, but just check his call log or texts. How about looking for stray hairs. There are other ways. That's all I'm saying. I just think that finding out he's cheating on you is probably less humiliating than getting on your knees and sniffing a dick for foreign particles. Then what? "Oh, this smells like Brenda's vagina?" How do you know? Or if she doesn't pick up a scent, does she just tap the balls and say, "There you go. Clean bill of health." Who wants to sit down for a casual dinner after that? What I'm saying is, you don't have to dick sniff. Wasn't this what the suffrage movement was supposed to eliminate?