AWWWK-ward
Creepin’ cops
Aug 24th
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:
Is nothing sacred?
Jun 28th
Yesterday morning I was on the phone with my mom trying to help her reconnect to her Wi-Fi at home. My dad had borrowed her laptop for travel and she didn’t know how to get back online… Any Gen-X’er who has ever tried to explain computer functionality and/or the Internet to their folks has certainly felt my pain. I know I should be more understanding, but it’s something I have very little patience for because it’s such a no-brainer to me… Anyway, getting to the point, I posted the following update on Twitter:
Well…
She somehow found it and e-mailed me. Here is the exchange that ensued:
——Original Message——
From: Linda Jackson
To: Me
Subject: Don ‘t Be Talkin”Bout me on da web
Sent: Jun 27, 2009 1:53 PMWalking my mom through her computer problems might be the most frustrating thing I’ve ever done. I love her ’cause she made me, but DAMN… about 5 hours ago from web
===================================
From: <EJ@erinjackson.net>
To: “Linda Jackson” <xxxxxxxx@verizon.net>
Sent: Saturday, June 27, 2009 4:02 PM
Subject: Re: Don ‘t Be Talkin;”Bout me on da webHow did you find that? Hahaha… I said I loved you
===================================
From: Linda Jackson
To: Me
Subject: Re: Don ‘t Be Talkin”Bout me on da web
Sent: Jun 27, 2009 4:03 PMDO YOU THINK THAT JUS’ ‘KOZ I PLAY DUM…I REALLY AM?
ha ha ha!
I thought it was hilarious that she called me out. I didn’t even know my mom knew what Twitter was. I guess that’s it for online venting about family. I never imagined my mom logging onto a social networking site, but I guess the days of innocence are over.
Exhale.
She never ceases to amaze me.
Thank God I have cute feet
Apr 24th
Thank God.
I mean if the movie Boomerang was real-life, I’m pretty sure my feet would have passed the Hammertime Test:
Don’t worry, I’m not gonna post a photo of them. I know how OPF (other people’s feet) gross some folks out — me included. But mine are cute. Not beautiful. Cute. They’re a little on the short side but they’re the right sizes in the right order and in the spring/summer, just TRY and catch me without a fresh pedi. Admittedly I slack off in the winter but since no one’s gonna see them and there’s no bedmate to complain about my heel spurs, I can afford to slack off a little.
I bring this whole topic up because it’s begun to get spring-ish in DC (which BTW means 75 degrees for like 3 days and then 99 degrees until October) and I broke out the sandals for the first time yesterday. I’m working at the DC Improv this weekend (Tickets still available here) and there was a woman in the front row last night who kept staring at my feet. She was so blatant that I had to stop talking and ask her, “Are you looking at my feet?” She said, “Yes.” She didn’t even look at me when she answered. She was still looking at my feet. And I felt a little awkward… I had gotten a French pedicure earlier in the day so my feet were fine, but audience members checking out my feet is something I’ve always been self-conscious about.
I remember fretting once because I didn’t have time to get a pedicure before a show and one of my guy friends was like, ” Oh please, E. You sound like such a diva.” But he didn’t understand that when I’m on stage, my feet are pretty much at eye level for the audience. And women especially will look another woman up and down and back up again before they give themselves permission to like her. I would hate to Google myself (yeah I do it and so do you) and see something like:
“Well she was aiight funny, but her feet was mad crusty, son!”
All my imaginary online hecklers/critics are from 1990’s New York.
But I digress.
I no longer feel embarrassed or diva-like for making it a point to have a fresh pedi when I’m performing. My boy Randy who was at the show last nite says that’s exactly why he polishes his shoes before he goes on stage. You gotta eliminate as many petty reasons as you can for people not to enjoy the show. If you’re in the DC/MD/VA area and wanna catch a show and maybe check out my feet for yourself, come on down. The headliner, Ted Alexandro, is one of my favorite comedians working today. I even said so here and I’m super psyched to be working with him!
Hope to see you out!
E
I may be an ass… but you have awful taste
Mar 3rd
So I was at Macy’s shopping with one of my girlfriends about a week ago and she was pushing me to try on a hideous dress I knew I was gonna hate. I told her I didn’t want to waste my time, but she kept saying, “Oh E, it’s gonna look better on. I’m telling you that hanger just isn’t doing anything for it…”
Needless to say she punked me into it. I had her wait out by the three-way mirror and I was just talking ish the whole time I was trying to get it zipped and buttoned up:“Ugh, this dress is so ugly… Why the hell did you make me try this on?… You would never wear any shit like this… Who would BUY this piece of crap?”
You name it, I probably said it. She wanted me to come out and show her and I kept on… “Alright, but there better not be anyone else out there. I don’t even want to be seen in a dressing room wearing this thing.” She assured me there was no one else out there, but as I was opening the door to my dressing room, the door directly across from me opens at the same time, and the woman is standing there right in front of me wearing the dress I’ve been bashing out loud for the past 5 minutes…
Yeah.
AWWWK-WARD…
This stuff doesn’t happen to other people, does it? No, really… I couldn’t even look up. But I could tell she was staring dead at me. It was the most ashamed I’ve been of myself in years…
I don’t know if that lady bought the dress — I didn’t stick around to find out — but me and my big mouth have totally learned our lesson. I know this is gonna sound hella self-centered but sometimes it totally slips my mind that there are other people in the world… Well, I plan on taking this to the stage. So hopefully it will have been a worthwhile experience on more than one front.
Ugly Michael Kors dress lady, if you’re reading… I’m sorry for being an ass. But if we’re honest with ourselves I think all three of us will admit that dress was herblistenous… So, in a weird roundabout way, I kinda did you a favor… Yeah.
You’re welcome.
Flattered or Insulted? I’m going with ‘insulted’
Jan 22nd
There’s a young guy who I’m ‘friends’ with on MySpace who sent me this photo that he doctored up of me in Photoshop. He said it was “Me… as Beyonce.” This was, how shall I say it… a non-commissioned work (or is it uncommissioned?) Either way, I didn’t ask for it, and I had no idea it was coming. So imagine my surprise when it arrived in my inbox…
Ummm... Thanks?
What up with the ocean/sky backround? Am I on a cruise? … Also I’m not sure why my lips are so black in the corner, and why he added makeup, and whose necklace that is, and how by adding a brown wig to my headshot, he managed to make me look like a drag queen… To borrow from Robert Downey Jr.’s Oscar-nominated performance in Tropic Thunder: “I look like a dude playing a chick playing… a crackhead?
It’s hilarious to look at, but not for the reasons he intended I’m sure. Unless he hates me. But the worst part is that this is what he thinks Beyonce looks like. With that wig and that flower, I’m looking way more Neicy Nash ;)
never thought I'd have the need to use this photo ever again
I feel the need to include the original headshot in this post so you all can at least see what it really looks like. But what I need from y’all is for you to tell me (1) this photo looks nothing like the original — BECAUSE IT DOESN’T … Right? (2) a little outrage would be nice, and (3) a few “Wow E, that’s a really cute photo”s would be a nice touch too.
Got it? OK then, here goes…
Running into — OK from — my ex
Dec 4th
It’s never fun when you run into an ex.’Cause they inevitably catch you on a bad day… And even if you look good, you never look good enough. I was on a train today and sat down right next to — I mean literally knees touching and everything — a man I was seriously involved with about 6 years ago. Didn’t see him when I got on the train and hadn’t seen him since the last time I kicked him out of the house. And wow was it awkward.
I was lucky — I actually looked half-way decent. But when he tapped me on my shoulder I literally stopped breathing for a bit. Apparently we’ve been riding the same train at the same time every day for years, but we’ve never run into each other before.
Our conversation was really superficial:
Me: “So… what stop do you get off at?” (Translation — How much longer are you going to be on this damn train?)
He: “Me? Oh, just two more stops to McPherson Square.” (Translation — Yeah I’m counting too.)
Me: Oh… Cool.
I found myself digging around in my bag for stuff that wasn’t there. Trying to figure out if I snuck and turned my head and put on some lip gloss would it be too obvious…
Of course it would, Erin. He’s already been looking in your face for 5 minutes. He will notice the hot pink gloss.
Damn. You’re right, self.
Exhale. No matter how curious you are about what the other person has been up to, or how good/bad the split was, running into an ex is never pleasant. It’s like [insert super-appropriate analogy]. I’m hoping I don’t run into him again. But please believe that I’m gonna step my Metro fashion game up.
Just in case ;)
Just because you’re ‘friends’ on Facebook…
Nov 5th
Doesn’t mean you’re friends in real life. Or maybe you throw crappy parties. Either way, take a hint.
Saw this today on Passiveaggressivenotes.com:
Your mom doesn’t want to hear jokes about your sex life, even if the joke is that you don’t have one…
May 30th
It’s true.
I know cause I sent my mom the link to my Live at Gotham preview (http://www.comedycentral.com/videos/index.jhtml?videoId=167549) the other day, and she never responded to the e-mail. Her only daughter on TV… almost… and she has no comment. Strange-o, huh?
I thought so, so I called her and was like, “Hey, Ma. Did you watch that video clip I sent you?” And she said, “Yes.” And I said, “Well what did you think?” And she says, “Who did your makeup? It looked good.”
Ummm… was that an answer to the question? Me thinks not.
So then I said, “They had professional makeup people there. What did you think of the clip, though?” And then she said, “They liked it.” Of course since you were not privy to her tone, I feel the need to clarify that ‘they’ is a reference to the club full of heathens that laughed at a joke about me not having sex and the virgin birth.
Whatevs, Ma. You gotta loosen up.
Her selective prudishness cracks me up sometimes… That’s why I took complete pleasure in catching her off guard this afternoon. IÂ got my tax stimulus check in the mail and called to tell her (I was under the assumption that I wasn’t gonna get one at all). Here’s how the conversation went:
Me: Guess what, Ma?
My Ma: What?
Me: I got stimulated
My Ma (almost inaudibly): Oh… OK. By what…?
Me: Haha… I mean I got my tax stimulus check from the IRS.
My Ma: Oh good, because I didn’t know how to respond to that.
I heart her. THE END
But really, do our breasts have to touch?
May 17th
Alright, so all comics — all people for that matter — have their own neuroses. Anyone that knows me even casually is probably pretty aware that I am not a fan of unsolicited or unwarranted hugging, European cheek kissing, etc. In fact ‘not a fan of’ is really an understatement.
I absolutely hate it.
A lot of people assume it’s because I’m a “germaphobe” or something. But that’s not the case at all. I just think hugging is a really intimate a gesture. I used to do a bit about how I reserve hugs for people I’m dating and really special occasions — when I see people I haven’t seen in a really long time. Like if I saw my grandmother, I’d hug her because she passed away in 1993 and reincarnation is a legitimately hugworthy event. Blah, blah, blah. There was more to it and it was only moderately funny, but I loved the bit because I felt like I was being really honest about something that really bugs me that I think a lot of people could identify with, but apparently it just made me seem like an icy jerk.
People would come up to me after the show and say stuff like, “Well, I really enjoyed your show. But I’m NOT gonna hug you…” Real snarky-like. As if they were punishing me. And I’d always be thinking GREAT!!! Cause in case you missed it, NOT hugging me is exactly what I want for you to do.
(I mean, scientifically, has not hitting the bitch achieved the desired result?)
Please pardon my A.D.D. That last sentence just reminded me of this episode…
But back to the point. Why would you even think a hug is the appropriate gesture for this situation anyway?
“Hey, I really think you’re funny. Now let’s rub our boobs together.”
Why?
A couple of weeks ago I went out to help my friend Dawan celebrate his birthday, and he and a few other folks thought it would be cute to take a series of photos where people were trying to hug me or put me in semi-headlocks. And you know what? It WAS cute.
Please read the irony.
Right about here I was thinking, “If it wasn’t your birthday I’d probably try to fight you. And you with the camera, Walk home.”
I hated every second of it. My mom says I was like that even as a kid. I’m sure I should probably be in therapy somewhere… But until I can find a therapist who accepts CVS Extra Care Bucks for payment, I’m gonna need y’all to stop it.
John that means you ;)
Chris Matthews Dyes
May 8th
I’m glad I’m not the only one who noticed this.
Every nite around 6-ish I tune into MSNBC for David Gregory’s show, Hardball with Chris and Countdown with Keith. I can’t stand Dan Abrams’ show so I’m tuning out by 9. My mom has the same schedule as we are liberal news fiends.
Tonite though, I was on my cellphone with my friend Herbie when Hardball came on and I was shocked and awed by Chris Matthews’ new dye job. At first I was like something’s different about him… And when I finally realized what it was I couldn’t even concentrate on what Herbie was talking about. I asked him to hold on so I could call my mom on the house phone to see if she was witnessing what I was, and she was like “Oh really he changed it? I didn’t notice.”
Didn’t notice?
Her nonchalance prompted me to Google the following phrase “Chris Matthews dye hair.“ I saw that the Huffington Post crew had posted about it, and I felt vindicated.
This made me think of the time a girlfriend of mine in high school got her moustache airbrushed out of her graduation photos. She’s a cute girl, but she’s had a mustache as long as I’ve known her. And I remember when we got our pictures a bunch of us were standing around and I saw hers and was like ”Wow, these are gorgeous! You look amazing! But there’s something different about you. I mean it looks like you, but it looks different too…” I clearly went on too long. It took another friend nudging me and gesturing to her upper lip for me to realize that I’d put my foot in my mouth. BUT, I do blame her too. She knew damn well her face looked empty. We all know she has a moustache. She could have just said something. She knew what I was thinking.
Anyway, back to Chris… The hair is not so bad I guess. I just think its funny that he would go there. Usually people who dye their hair do it gradually as they go grey to retain the color they had. But Chris went all the way white and then started dyeing. That’s bold. And unnecessary. I mean, don’t you like have to be grey to be considered a credible news anchor? Anderson Cooper, Wolf Blitzer, Lou Dobbs — (insert sardonic smirk).
Anyway, I’m rambling. Do your thing CM. Whatever floats it for you is alright with me. I just hope you didn’t think you could spring this on us without us noticing.
Your two cents