Another month, another show, another crowd satisfied, another Thanksgiving together as a group.  Another year of performing gone by, another empty theater awaits our humor, another festival calls our name, another city will feel the rush of our euphoric energy.  I awoke this morning to that feeling I always get whenever our show has come and gone. This feeling was even more intense due to the fact it was our last show of the year. It’s like a wave, scratch that, a tidal wave, no forget that too, a tsunami of energy flooding into my body and back out again.  As I stared at the ceiling wanting to lay there just a day or two longer, I felt relieved, and desperate, all at the same time.

    For those who have never experienced working with a kick ass, passionate, crazy,  group of people at a job you love then you know the feeling and you can skip down  a paragraph to the meatier part of this diatribe.  However, for those two or three of you stuck in jobs you hate or working in an environment you wish you could change; or perhaps forced to collaborate with some guy with tape on his glasses, bad breath, and wearing pocket protectors that you wish you could give a giant wedgie, allow me to explain.  It is like being in elementary school and you can’t wait to get up and go to play with your classmates, and recess time is the highest point of your day..when the last bell rings and it is time to go home you feel spent. You have experienced every emotion possible and your body is drained from feeling so much. You like going home but you are bittersweet about saying goodbye to all your munchkin friends.  You know you have to click your heels three times at some point but you wonder when it will happen again.  I mixed metaphors there but you get the point.

      For those of you who actually skipped down to this paragraph, congratulations on a wonderful life you smug S.O.B.’s, you missed some great prose!!  I digress. I sat up in my bed looking forward to having the time to clean my dirty apartment and reflect back on the great moments of the past month or so leading up to the show, as well as the show itself.  I instantly thought of my partner-in-crime D-Mack’s (Destini) "A-ha!" moment when having written her amazingly brilliant E-Harmony sketch, which you all shall soon see coming to a Youtube near you.  I kept wishing I had a video camera to record us the day Ivy told us all about the day she and D-Mack wound up going to an audition on the bus and afterwards shared dinner at a homeless shelter.  LOL.  I love seeing Tiffany’s new improved sense of confidence after kicking butt at Seattle Sketchfest; and then rocking her fabulous Amy Winehouse impression accent and all.  LOOK MA NO WIG!!! I bristle at the thought that we met and auditioned for my not-so childhood crush Vanessa Bell Calloway (“Coming to America”-  the stand on one leg and bark like a dog bride that Eddie runs away from.  I wouldn’t have ran.). Definitely can’t forget Brett’s mom coming to visit and drinking us all under the table.  We are hoping she returns soon so we can see those pretty eyes of hers and taste Brett’s Stuffed Flounder Flambé, or whatever else he will cook up next. Now we know who the Martha Stewart of the group is.  One of my favorite treats has also been watching Saudia turn into the commercial and advertising Queen (watch for her U.S. Army and Hewlett-Packard commercials). We also got to perform in the LA Comedy Festival with one of our favorite groups and road dogs, “The Birthday Boys”. You all must see their “white pants after Labor Day sketch”. It’s brilliant.

    Additionally, we shared in a momentous occasion on Nov. 4th.  That’s right, we all were crying for joy and dancing in the streets on November 4th, 2008 when we all witnessed Destini turn down free drinks!  In lighter news, Barack Obama became the first African-American President-elect.  Brett and I made sure we got good and drunk to celebrate and Saudia somehow found us at Jones’s.  Now the entire group debates how long do we have to wait before we can start making fun of him. It wasn’t all good though. One of the lowlights was Saudia moving to the east side; so now the residential circle is officially broken since Brett and Saudia no longer live in the hood.  Gone are the days of wine and roses and late night trysts at Busby’s. I guess Destini, Ivy and I will have to keep the neighborhood bars afloat.  We did celebrate after Monday nights’ show by streaking through Destini’s apartment complex at 4 in the morning.  Those of you with jobs you hate, you should try it.  It is quite therapeutic.  Of course, I can’t forget the “recess” part of my whole analogy, the actual show. Monday and Tuesdays shows were both just about sold out, and there is no feeling like the anticipation before a show that’s sold out. Imagine 70,000 screaming fans, now divide that that by 1,000. That leaves you with 70 if you couldn’t get to your calculator quick enough. Whether it is 70,000 or 70 there is no feeling like being the main attraction and delivering that knock out blow. It’s like every other act is bacon and you're Sizzlean. “MOVE OVER BACON NOW THERE IS SOMETHING MEATIER!!! SCC!!!  Okay, but a little ego trip is better than a conceited vacation.  I also received word that we will be headlining two shows at Chicago Sketchfest on Jan 8th and 10th. Tell your Chi-town friends!  Sizzlean is good but there is nothing better than meeting our fans afterward, and this month’s show was no exception. Some of our die-hard fans were there with us until the wee hours, (Julio, Ann, Dave, Dynasty) and shared their comments, smiles, and drinks.

            As you can see, working with this group of cracked coconuts is no ordinary job.  It requires full time concentration, and so does my dirty room. So as I drag myself out of bed to attend to all the things I neglect because of my time consuming career, I contemplate how I can keep up this break-neck, no sleep pace. As I shuffle slowly around the room, my body screams, “Why do I keep doing this!”

            I look back on moments like those aforementioned and my senses are reminded why. After a wipe down of the counters, a sweep of the floors, taking out the trash, I throw my six loads of dirty clothes in the trunk of my car.  I curse my self for having all  of these dirty clothes and wonder when was the last time I did laundry.  I remember now, right after the last show. As I drive towards Lucy’s 24-Hour Laundromat to wade through a month and a half of musty shirts, dusty socks, and grungy jeans, I can’t help but notice the anticipation building inside of me again.  I begin counting down the days to the next show. Windy City here we come!!!  I can’t wait!!...... Nor can my laundry.

I wasn't always a drinker. In high school I never drank. Didn't interest me. I think it was mainly that everyone I knew became idiots when they got sauced. Someone always wound up crying, throwing up or falling down. Sometimes all at the same time. So it didn't appeal. Then came college. Started drinking some beers there. Had to. Stupid peer pressure. But I got a taste for it. Fast forward to now. I'm a man who enjoys his scotch, his Jack Daniels, his Stella and his occasional red wine. I also enjoy drinking it past 1:30 in the GODDAMN MORNING!!!!

See in LA, everything closes at 2AM. Everything. Now I'm from NY where everything closes...well...NEVER. If it's 10am on a Tuesday, I can get a drink. So a drink after 2am is no sweat. Hell, most people don't even go out until 1 or 2am. But here?? Ha! Try drinking after 2am. hell, try drinking after 1:30am! I swear to God, it's like they turn into mini Nazis at last call. In NY, last call means OK, you can't have anymore to drink, but take your time, finish what you got and we'll close up when everybody is done. Out here? They will actually take your unfinished beer out of your hand, pour it out in front of you and PUSH you out the door. And this is at 1:45am!!!!!!!! I swear. This happened to me! I almost cut a muthafucka, but I no longer have my boxcutter, since I'm no longer on the subway. But I digress.

And the worst part is that EVERYONE is cool about it. As soon as last call comes around, everyone just leaves. Ladies grab their purses, guys grab their flip-flops and off they go. No arguing, no "dude, I'm not done with my drink", just out the door. Which just makes me more pissed off, because now I'm the drunk guy who doesn't feel like letting his drink be poured down the bar sink. BUT I PAID FOR THE GODDAMN BEER AND I'M GONNA FINISH IT! So, in the immortal words of Onyx, bacdafucup!!

Oh and another thing. Don't bother tipping the bartender in hopes that you'll get a buyback at some point. Don't waste your time. Doesn't happen. And I'm not just talking about the fancy bars. That I expect. I mean even in the shitty dive bars. You could tip all day and....nothing. Just a "Hey thanks man! Come back soon! Your a cool guy." NO ASSHOLE!!! I'm a thirsty guy! I'm a guy who is tipping you in hopes that you wake the fuck up and say "Hey if I give this guy a beer, that will COST ME NOTHING, maybe he'll appreciate it and come back and tip me some more!". Just makes sense, right? Nope. These morons just take my two bucks, smile and wander off to put more gel in their hair or some such shit. But if I was Will Smith and I said I was parched, these assholes would hand me the deed to the bar. Dicks.

In conclusion, I'd like to be able to actuallty get drunk. Just once. And get a free beer. Maybe it would make this city suck less. But they won't even let me do that.

Fuckers.

What to say about six people who didn’t retain any sense while traveling through 
the birth canal…actually I guess that's it.  I contemplated ending the story 
just now, but I decided to give you a few more details about the beauty and the 
debauchery from an inside perspective, nothing you could ever learn from any of 
the people that were shit on, fucked or just generally paid for the trip..…quick 
disclaimer…SLOW CHILDREN CROSSING IS AN UPSTANDING GROUP OUR20VALUES ARE STRONG 
WE CARE ABOUT THE WORLD AROUND US AND WE GENERALLY LOVE DOGS OF ALL BREEDS, 
ETHNIC MAKEUP, TRANSGENDER, RECENTLY WIDOWED, POOR STAMINA.
I enjoy a kick back vibe about traveling with my group…because heavens know if 
you tense up you’ll break, it’s like being in a car accident.   The night before 
we fly were all sitting over at destiny’s house wrapping up rehearsal now 
shifting the conversation back to sex,money and white women who by the way we 
love over here as you'll grasp as the journey unfolds.  Tiffany our dear tiffany 
from the outside sometimes appears to gradually have MPD not to put you on blast 
cause I know it’s kind of in capital letters but she’s kind of trippy, so Tiff 
brings over the T-Shirts the new SCC black and gold T-Shirts. Woo Weeeee we got 
our own honest to goodness T-shirts in large, xlarge and xxlarger.  Sorry I got 
excited for a moment, were turning into huge stars before your eyes.  First 
reaction to shirts; the logo is too small and the shirt is too big, but the next 
morning the t-shirt looked like gold as it drapped on my body.  At that point it
 dawned on me again as it does during SCC trips that I can really trust the 
judgment of the people in my group and there pretty dope people, Tiffany new 
better.   Travel day Brett, sweet Brett text me “On my way”. Most people love 
that phrase being texted to
 them, it’s a courtesy that people shouldn’t take for 
granted, the person behind the text is letting you know I’m on my way to get 
you, to come to you, so be ready be focused about knowing that Ill be there any 
moment. It’s common knowledge to most of us earthlings, but not to the whims of 
a chestnut brown sex vixen Aquarius. NO not to her, she must push the envelope 
because though time waits for no man, it seems to make an exception for a 
chestnut brown sex vixen Aquarius who went to Targe’t after receiving that very 
same message that I received from Mr. Butler.  Toake one Toake two Toake 
three…beep. Beep. They’ve made it over to me from around the corner where the 
vixen sleeps.
 I've been waiting at the end of my walkway with bags and ready.   We drop the 
car jump on the Shuttle and make a few fans on our way to the terminal where 
Tiff is waiting.  Virgin, the airlines not Tiffany although, never mind, so 
Virgin, Tiffany wins a premium package movie after blackberrying it up to get 
the answer to a Virgin quiz.   An interesting little fact about winning, 
sometimes winning isn’t enough, sometimes you have roll up with two golden girls 
on that hippie-sheik chick who screamed out the answer before you did, knowing 
that you had the answer first.  It was a very kinky scene, but luckily there was 
also a hippie on the SCC team and I deaded al
l that controversy and made peace.  
Landing in Seattle, easy enough, now we just need to meet Alem and Destiny at 
the oyster bar that’s going to be right in front of us as we come out the 
terminal because Alem has been there a million times for some reasons that only 
a few good men could speak
 about. I’m just kidding if you got that joke.  But alas no Oyster bar when we 
exit and no Ashford and Simpson.  So we descend upon the baggage claim were we 
get to stare at all the people who annoyed us during the flight.   We see two 
guys that Tiffany suspects might be fellow festival performers and we meet the 
Mars Blackmon of Seattle who's just so happy to see other black people, and we 
see the little girl who we thought was being kidnapped earlier who we found out 
next was actually just an upset mystical guru who could receive and throw energy 
like a professional baseball catcher.  Tiffany tossed the ball around with her a 
little bit which was cute but also a freaky kid thing like Haley Joel Osment in 
the sixth sense.  So the Gangs all here!!! We came together like one of those 
8O’s movies that do the montage of all the different characters meeting up to 
overcome some obstacle backed by feel good music. Example.. Revenge of the 
Nerds, ET,
 Goonies, Lost Boys, Birth of a Nation.   Taxi arrives to the theatre Off 
Jackson it’s rainy and wet, two words I never 
thought needed to go together but 
in the Midwest somehow they do.  We descend again, down into the wooden cave of 
comedy in Chinatown were strange characters run amuck and laughter is easy to 
find. TM.  We hit the green room drop our bags and continue on to find a place 
where we can recharge = read menus, eat food, chat, have beers, act a fool, 
rehash, gossip and exit happy. TM.   Let's Skip Starbucks; too much of a 
melancholy vibe I kept hearing “CANT TAKE MY EYES OFF OF YOU” BY Damien Rice in 
my head.   So now were back at the theatre Off Jackson going through luggage 
setting up our show and we meet our festival Contact and Host of the festival 
Christian Bale.  Christian who’s been trying keep a low profile after his recent 
affiliation with Iceberg Slim was exposed, whom by the end of trip turned into 
his counterpart Dalton
 who use to work for ROAD HOUSE…shout out to the lady who played the doctor in 
that movie…I had a huge crush on you and if you wanted to go out sometime back 
then it would have been on, on, on.  Wow, sounds like a large crowd.   I guess 
whoever opened for us was funny cause laughter was pouring into the backstage.  
Jar Technology’s up a different format for us but surprisingly effective the 
premise is simple. We receive our laughter walk off the stage and into the 
"Shinning’s" Chinese restaurant were one lone sketcher 
sits against a tacky 
background waiting for the karaoke machine to arrive.   It didn’t take long for 
the SCC crew to assess the situation and rescue our fellow man from the horror 
movie and bring him more into an urban dramedy.  Our new pal a kind of Michael 
Penn in footloose cat hails from Texas most recently in Portland now calls 
Seattle his home. Local act cool-headed brim Libra and has a kind of a nasally 
chronic bronchitis
 type laugh.  We head to a local pub that’s filled with SCC fans, piping hot 
chicken wings, karaoke hip hop style and a Chinese mafia discussing business as 
we drank till it wasn’t necessary and then crawled off or jogged next to a biker 
girl to our lodging.  TO BE CONTINUED…SEATLE ACT 11 COMING LATER

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