About 8 years ago I was living in Lawrence, Kansas. Even back then I had a tendency to go walking at night. One night I was walking around when one of a group of three guys sitting on a porch called me a cracker. I gave them no acknowledgment and kept walking. I then heard one of them say, “Let’s go get him”. At this, I turned the corner, quickened my pace, and started heading home. I then heard footsteps behind me. As the footsteps behind me got closer, I noticed someone keeping pace with me in the alley behind a row of houses. Then I noticed someone on the other side of the street. This was when I first felt that sense of nervousness. I walked another block until the footsteps behind me were too close to tolerate. I turned around and said, “What do you want?” The guy sized me up. I said, “If we’re going to do this, let’s do this”. He said, “I’m not trying to do anything”. I replied, “If you’re not trying to do anything, then why are you following me and why are your boys from across the street and in the alley trying to close in on me”. At this point, the guy from the alley and the guy from across the street had closed their distance and were about ten feet from me. I wanted to let them know that I could trace them back to a very specific location, which was probably their place of residence so I said, “You three have been following me since you yelled at me from the porch of the house on 14th and Kentucky, so if you were planning to do something now is the time”. This was met with silence, until one of them said, “We just wanted to know where the girls are at”. I didn’t know what their plans were, but I knew they weren’t following me to find some ladies. This response kind of pissed me off, so I snidely said, “It’s three in the morning. I’m walking by myself. Do you think I know where the girls are? I’m going home, and would appreciate it if you didn’t follow me”. With that I stood there and watched them walk down the street, then I sprinted home.

This same nervous feeling rose in me tonight as one of the would be robbers became aware of my presence. Immediately he began walking towards me. As I passed him, he said, “This must be the wrong street”. His partner, still trying to pick the car’s lock said, “What?”, as he turned and spotted me. “Oh yeah. It must be the next block”, he replied. He quickly moved past me and down the street with his partner. I walked a few steps further, into an area with more lighting, and turned around to make sure they weren’t going to continue messing with cars on my street.

Neither of these instances were life and death, but in the moment they felt as if they could be. I felt as if I could become a victim and that made me nervous to the point that it spawned a weird confidence. I wasn’t scared. I was ready to handle whatever the situation could throw at me. In Lawrence, that meant confronting those who were making me uncomfortable. Tonight, it meant ensuring the two thiefs knew they were being watched. It’s odd, but it’s a feeling I really enjoy. I like the confidence. It makes me want to put myself in different (preferably not so threatening) situations  where I am vulnerable, just to see how I respond. However, the next time I get the feeling I should take my ID with me on a late night walk, I’ll probably stay home instead.

1) This person eats upwards of 10 meals a day, requiring them to do dishes on a hyper-regular basis.

2) This person has a back log of dirty dishes from the last 5 years that they are just now getting around to cleaning.

3) This person has OCD and can never get their dishes clean enough.

4) This person has some sort of Ferris Beuller type contraption rigged to my door where everytime it opens, it triggers a series of pulleys and levers inside their kitchen which gives the appearance of someone cleaning dishes.

5) This person is being held captive and cleans dishes all day hoping someone will notice what an odd practice that is and will become suspicious prompting them to contact the police, leading to said person’s rescue.

6) This person isn’t actually cleaning dishes. They’re just listening to a new Bjork song on repeat, and I have mistaken Bjork’s new experimental sound with the sound of running water and clanging dishes.

Why are these people on his shitlist? According to his speech, Jerry Krause didn’t recognize that it was Jordan, himself, who was winning championships. The Bulls organization who helped build those championship teams, had nothing to do with it. As Jordan put it, ““The organization didn’t play with the flu in Utah”. He called out Doug Collins, Pat Riley, and Jeff Van Gundy for comments they had made to or about him 20 years ago. Magic, Isiah, and George Gervin felt his wrath because Jordan felt they tried to keep him from playing in the 1985 all star game. Leroy Smith, and Jordan’s high school coach each got shots for keeping Jordan off the varsity squad for a year. Byron Russel and John Starks got mentioned because they actually thought they could gaurd Michael Jordan. What’s the point of trashing Byron Russel or John Starks? Both of their careers are linked with him because of how bad he made them look on the court. It was all so petty. I’m kind of surprised  he didn’t called me out for not buying a pair of Air Jordans from 1995-1998.

It was sad watching the greatest basketball player of all time, and probably the most important athlete of all time air petty grievances with people who had little to do with the bulk of his career. Jordan’s speech was the equivalent to holding someone down and hitting them with their own hands. We get it Michael, you’re competitve. You will use anything and everything as motivation. That’s what made you so great. Everyone you ever proved wrong, knows you proved them wrong. Your 6 championships, 5 MVPs, and all time scoring average record have made that clear to anyone who has ever doubted you. You win. No need to rub it in.

When I was young, I wanted to be like Mike, but if that means turning into a bitter old man who engages in one sided wars, I’m not so sure anymore. Then again, this post could be considered a one sided war, and I’m probably bitter that Jordan’s speech didn’t provide any of the touching stories or displays of humility that are present in most inductees’ speeches. Maybe, I’m already like Mike.

Upon entering the theatre, I took a seat on the stage. The two gentlemen who were behind me in line, sat on the other side of the stage. During the first comedian’s set, I noticed the one who sold weed to GZA kept shaking his head. It wasn’t a playful, That’s So Raven type shake, as if to say “Oh no you didn’t”. It was aggressive and moved it in a manner that conveyed disgust and complete disapproval, as if to say, “No! No! No! I do not like it!” I also noticed that he didn’t laugh. I watched him, trying to figure out what was going on. His head indicated that he hated what was going on, but the rest of his body language said he was having a great time. Eventually I realized that he didn’t laugh because his laughter had been replaced by shaking his head side to side.

The contrast of it all is amazing. He likes something, thinks it’s funny, agrees with it, yet he shakes his head in a manner that universally means “No” or “I don’t approve”. Even a child could see the contradiction, after all it is non verbal nuances such as shaking ones head up and down or left and right that children first use to communicate choice and likes/dislikes. I wonder if he shakes his head approvingly when he comes across something he hates.

I continued to watch him and discovered that when he really liked a joke, he would thump his chest with his fist 7 or 8 times. His friend’s peculiar body language began to perk my interest as well. He sat on the edge of his seat with the palms of his hands on his knees, elbows extending to the side, staring intently at whoever had the microphone. Imagine a guy sitting in a chair just waiting for the right moment to pop up and beat someone’s ass. He looked pissed, but I don’t think he was. He laughed, commented on jokes to his friend. In fact, he was very vocal. After a joke about Ed Hardy shirts being lame, he shouted out, “Fuck Ed Hardy”. During another comedian’s set (yes, the comedian was telling jokes, and he interjected during a pause) he asked the comedian if he ever watches rap battles. Watches rap battles? Apparently, this guy’s friend is going to be in a rap battle, and this gentlemen felt the need to share this with everyone in the theatre.

As I walked home from the show, I developed my theory as to what was wrong with the two gentlemen. The gentleman who sold weed to GZA has a body and brain that work independently from each other. They have been at war for years. If the brain says stand, the body sits. If the body says go, the brain says sleep. If the brain says laugh, the body shakes it’s head. The other gentleman has a disease that makes him think that when people talk into a microphone they are speaking directly to him and expect him to respond. These theories are pretty good but my best theory is that there’s something wrong with me for putting so much thought into the behavior of two strangers.

I came across this picture on the interweb. It reinforces my theory that my head detaches itself while my body sleeps, and leads a much more interesting social life than I do in my waking hours.

Last night, I saw Seth and Ed’s Puppet Show. This show features Ed Helms and Seth Morris conducting a talk show as puppets. We got to the show late so we had to sit behind the puppets. I thought this would suck, but it was great. Since Seth and Ed were sitting three feet away from me, I had the opportunity to observe them or watch the puppet show, shown on one of the screens in the theater. Creed Bratton was one their guests. He received one of the loudest ovations I’ve heard at the UCB theater. He told stories, and him and Ed Helms did three songs with guitar and banjo. They were both fantastic. Creed is a solid guitar player and has a pleasant voice, and Ed can rip it up on the banjo. The comedic highlight of the night was when Creed was asked what it was like to be a rock star in the 60′s (he was in the band the Grass Roots). He said, “It was all blowjobs and sunglasses”.

Favorite Jokes of the Week

311 is the 9-11 of bands – Howard Kremer

What color are emoticons in China? – Ben Kronberg

For those inclined, check out Comedy Death Ray Radio (free podcast on itunes). Nick Kroll appears this week, at about the 21 minute mark, as Bobby Bottle Service (a character that portrays a certain type of male that is all too common in this city) Here’s a clip of my favorite Nick Kroll character:

This evening, my roommate John and I decided to get our Chipotle burrito on, so we ventured into West Hollywood to an outdoor shopping mall called the Grove (as seen almost nightly on TMZ). Going to the Grove is always a pain in the ass. Parking is very limited, and costly if you forget to get your ticket validated. Today was no exception is this department. The parking lot was full leaving us to drive around for 20 minutes looking for a parking spot. We finally settled on parking at the Kmart down the block. John decided to go into Kmart, while I went and got our burritos. As I was running down the list of items he wanted on his burrito, a man dressed in a white button up shirt, sporting a gold ring of the BMW logo interjected, “You know your not suppose to park here”. John and I quickly pointed out that he was actually going to Kmart. Before either of us could break away, the gentleman, who we later learned went by Broke Nick, launched into a one sided conversation covering a variety of topics. I just want to state that most of the following is either directly quoting Nick or paraphrasing something he said. Thanks to John for helping write down details from the interaction.

At first, I thought Nick was scolding us for parking in the Kmart lot, but he quickly revealed that he was doing the same thing. In fact, Nick just got done cruising the Grove, and was now standing in the Kmart parking lot pretending to clean his tires (so the security guard wouldn’t catch on to his scheme). Nick revealed that he likes to go hunting for women at the Grove.  The only problem with that is he doesn’t want to pay the $5 it cost for parking, so he parks in the Kmart lot. Once he hits the Grove, Nick has a plan. He looks for women with shopping bags. Not the wannabes with one shopping bag with practically nothing in it, he is looking for the women with multiple shopping bags full of stuff. In short, he wants a woman with money. Why wouldn’t he want a woman with money, he needs to get something out of the relationship. Seriously, he’s the one doin’ all the fuckin’. They just lay there and moan and groan. Maybe they’ll occasionally cook dinner. Either way, you can’t trust a woman, especially a woman in LA. She could move here from Australia and within a month she’s a liar. He once saw this little Mexican girl with stretch marks on her stomach, so he asked, “Do you have kids?” To which she replied, “Do I have what?”. He asked again, and she pretended like she didn’t understand, so he said, “You know, Monkios?” (Spanish for monkeys, obviously). She pretended like she didn’t understand, but he knew she understood. She was just lying to avoid the question. Either she had kids, or she used to be fat. There’s this girl he used to see who was smoking hot, but she was a liar too. One day she called him and asked if they were going to go out that night. After confirming these plans, the girl revealed that she was having her period. Nick was okay with this, because he was putting in his time, and new he’d get some at a later date. Later in the month, they were set up to go out again, and once again she claimed to be having her period. He’s never heard of a woman having her period twice in a month. He theorized that she was sleeping with too many men and was getting her lies confused. Situations like that are why he always has a couple fallback girls that he can stick it to.

It is at this point in the conversation that Nick transitions from explaining how women are liars to the wonderful statement, “It’s Adam and Eve, not Steve and Steve, or Eve and Eve”. I’m not sure what his point was because he quickly jumped to the topic of women and drugs. He did a great impression of a drug fueled female, claiming, “I’ve only done heroine a couple of times”. Then he asked if we knew what X-tabs were (apparently that’s what they call ecstasy these days). Why would anyone want to feel like that? All that he needs is a good stiff beer. Not the $16.50  beer you can get at the Grove that comes in a bottle as big as a pizza, but only fills up a quarter of the bottle. For $16.50, he can go to Kmart and buy a 12 pack (author’s note: Kmart does not sell beer in LA).

After a good 5-10 minutes of Nick’s stories and opinions, he surprisingly made a move to lets us go about our buisness, but first he asked our names. I told him my name was Stu, and he said, “They call me Broke Nick. I got a cousin name Stu. You ever heard of West Coast Customs. He works there. They got all these nice cars they take to shows, sometimes I use these cars and tell women that I own them”. With that, John headed for Kmart, and I headed to Chipotle.

Nick was surprisingly lucid. At one point, I jokingly told him I was a shyster. He said he was too, and it was okay for the man to be one, but not the woman. I was amazed at his willingness to acknowledge the contradictory nature of his views. That is why I found Nick so refreshing. Every negative quality he applied to women, became a positive when applied to himself. I’m tempted to go back to the Grove some early evening just so I can see Nick in action.