Eggs

Two nights ago both myself and James Patterson were egged, respectively. I was coming out of the Hollywood Improv after a Great & Secret Show meeting and as I was strolling through a crowd of people I felt something hit my rib-cage. I turned, looked around at the people standing outside, recognized a comedian I love (Patrice O'neil), and everyone had a look on their faces that said, "what the fuck was that?" As I looked down at my shirt I notice- EGG!

Patrice then said, "That sucks... but it's about time WE caught a break..." (In reference to the majority of black comedians hanging around outside for the Bernie Mack Tribute Show.) and I cut him off with "I know, it must be Bernie Mack smiling down from Heaven, right?"

I then rode home, with egg all over me, thinking "what goes around comes around" because I have thrown a few eggs in my time. I just can't believe the arm on that assassin. 9 times out of 10 I never would've landed that shot. As I was traveling I was anticipating telling my roommate, James, about the incident even though he had left right before me. But when we ran into each other he said, "you aren't going to believe what just happened to me."

What are the chances they got us both?

And I said, "HOLY SHIT you too?" He then said, "I was riding my bike and I got nailed by and egg!" And with a huge smile on his face said, "and it was a good shot too."

The funny thing is that in each instance both of us had thought we'd been shot. With a bullet. Thank God that wasn't the case... It sucks to get hit by an egg but at least we appreciate good hijinx and someone who's a dead-eye with an egg.
-Chris

P.S. A full coverage Bigfoot blog is on it's way. I'm just waiting to see what happens at the press conference on Friday. This could change everything...

Early Onset Alzheimers

Lately, while riding my bicycle I've been listening to "The Dark Knight" soundtrack. Originally, I just thought it'd be cool but now I feel like The Batman on a mountain bike...


...and when I stopped off at Blockbuster I felt like The Batman renting a movie. Also, I love how in "The Dark Knight" all of the citizens of Gotham call him "The Batman" as though the city is populated by my parents.

One time, when I was a kid, I actually wrote a girl a poem... well, I copied a poem from an Encyclopedia but I attempted to pass it off as my own work and she caught me. Somehow. I don't know how she did it. I looked it up under P. I thought I was being slick but I got nailed... I also have that very same girls soccer card. Still. At one point I thought I was going to marry her but we were only twelve. It ended badly. She was uncool.

I'd like to be less judgmental and more dedicated.

Tonight is one of those nights where I could probably do anything. Pick one, of any number of paths to take, and still feel bored. If I ever felt this way growing up I'd have gone down to my cellar and made-pretend build something. I never actually built anything. One time my dad and I built a bookshelf. My dad did all of the work. When he finished he wrote "Chris 1987" on the back. He used the same fire-engine red paint for the front of it. Now that I think of it, that bookshelf is my favorite possession. It makes me wish I built more stuff with my dad when I had the chance... Really, he should have signed it "Dad 1987." And It's impossible for me to tell him how much I love him.

Sleep calls. But the call for comedy resounds in the hallowed halls of my head. I don't have call waiting.

I once said the same thing about God.

Personal quirk: I need to wash my hands pretty regularly. Mostly only before meals but sometimes I get scared that it'll slip into some O.C.D. It won't but the fear is there. It doesn't match up to my biggest fear: blindness. So, please everybody, don't throw bleach in my eyes.

I believe that the life you lead is based only on the decisions you make. Kinda like a choose your own adventure book...


I once wrote a paper that, I'm pretty sure, was in 14 point font and like quadruple spaced. There were three words per line and it was for a 400 level English class on sublime poetry... I got a C.

I wish I had super powers. Really good ones. I'd make a great superhero. I'd help everyone, especially the people who need it most. I'd use my powers to take out bank loans for folks who don't have a lot of cash that the banks, otherwise, wouldn't even bat an eyelash at. My only downfall would be my mouth. Much like in real life, I'm loquacious. (Word of the day.) I talk a lot. You could say that I have the gift of gab but it's more of a curse... such is the life of a superhero.

I'm stocking up on reams of paper, pens, notebooks, note-cards, reading materials, and ideas.

There's something on my back that I definitely need looked at and probably need removed. But I'm wondering why I can't just do it myself. There's gotta be a DIY video on youtube for mole removal. A little self surgery would save me time AND money.

While typing that last blurb I was reminded of how a nun once told me that you can't start a sentence with because. Yes you can. How bout this? Because of the Earthquake, my life was never the same. Or how bout just: "Because."

(If that's incorrect just remember: Mistakes are O.K.)

I bought a tube of Pillsbury cookie dough tonight. It's sitting in my fridge and I have no real intention of eating it.

Regularly, I hear noises from various open windows of my apartment and I imagine criminals climbing in through the screens but the fantasy doesn't stop there. Upon entering my house they have to deal with me and my newly, in the moment, discovered Jason Bourne-Kali fighting skills.

The noises are just my hamsters... and they're too small for a street fight.

Currently, I'm reading Frankenstein written by Mary W. Shelley in 1817. She told me so in her preface. My book reading style is cover to cover. With no skipping. Imagine my surprise, when reading a book that traveled about Seventeen Hundred Ninety One years and finally arrived in my grubby mitts, to find that she's not the only person who's written in it. Oh, no no no... Several others have left their mark. Twelve souls to be exact. In the form of names, addresses, and telephone numbers. That makes me the Thirteenth.


Tomorrow, I have a few calls to make.

Brainstorm. I'm joining a woodworking class... next fathers day my dad gets a brand new, top o' the line, fire-engine red bookshelf. And there's plenty of time to do it.

How's YOUR brain?

Love,
-Chris

Ladies and Gentleman: The Grown Up Noise

Hello out there,
I just spent a good hour and a half trying to write something that isn't a story from my childhood or incredibly boring and I failed. Miserably. So, instead of not posting anything at all I thought I'd just plug my friends "The Grown Up Noise" who're playing our show this Thursday Night at 9 p.m. If you're in L.A. and have some time please come by and see them open our show. Their music is really really good. (So, good I had to use two "reallies." I'd say they're "Amazing" but who needs to live up to those expectations. The good thing is they actually can.)

Ga' head, listen to their music, fa ya self. They are great.

They also have a set at The Mint on Saturday at 9:40 p.m. too. Come on by and check them out or go by The Mint on Saturday. (I have fliers to get you a discount if you want 'em.) You won't be disappointed. So, don't be a goon... come to one of two, or both, shows.

Love,
Chris