1:30 a.m.(2/28/06)

Welcome to another edition of, "Chris Reese, This Is Your Life", only without the powerful career, celebrityism, wealth, and adoring fans for it to be based on... I am your host, and guest of honor...ok, so finally, finally, I have finished moving and dealing with all the issues that come with that. I've been so busy, I haven't been able to pen too much while doing that...MOVING SUCKS!! I'd rather go the gym, and I NEVER go to the gym. At least at the gym, you have the option of walking past weights and not lifting heavy ass shit!! And at least in the gym, you might pickup someone, cause you can still look smooth at the gym. You can't look smooth moving. You ain't about to pick up no woman, moving, wearing your class shirt from high school, looking like it should be on a sixth grader, some barely long enough Nike wind pants or sweats with holes in them, and some old shoes that you probably done used as shower shoes on several occassions-IT AIN'T HAPPENING. Anyway, I should actually be in bed right now - it's one thirty in the morning and I have to be up early to work tomorrow. But it's funny how inspiration hits you at the weirdest moments - in the middle of the morning, and i'm not even really that tired. Maybe it has to do with the rain. Ah, yes. It is indeed raining in Southern California. Someone sho nuff misinformed Tony Toni Tone. They say it will probably rain most of the week out here, which is a nightmare for a lot of the people of elastic land out here. It is a well known fact that some people out here have gotten caught in the rain real bad, have had their plastic surgeries run, turning into to instant human slip and slides. For if it rains cats and dogs in Kansas, then this is the city where they say its raining breast implants and collagen injections. And i guess if this were Florida, they'd be saying it's raining Metamucil, and prune juice. And if it were D.C., then they would probably be saying it's raining hollow tips and armor piercing rounds..anyway, enought attempts at beyond late night humor...i guess i just wanted get some shit off my mind, and let other people try to feel me on what's going on inside of me.. For the past couple of weeks I've been busy scrambling, getting stuff packed, stored, and boxed for moving. Beyond the fact that moving SUCKS, no big deal..people move all the time... i guess for me however, I always look at moving in a way that most people think about their own mortality, when someone they know dies.. for me, i guess it's always an introspective process of sorting; examining what is backwards, and what is forward; what is success, what is failure; what is strength, what is weakness, what the hell i'm doing, and so forth and so on... though i'm finally moved and am sleeping in my new place for the first time tonight, for the past year, i've lived with my two best friends in the world, and their two children. For the most part, the only family I have out here on the west coast is (and soon to be, was) them - they are going to the east coast. I just want to say that there are very few people in the world that most people would bleed for. Needless to say, my best friends fall in that category, and I am lucky to have had met them while at school, and becoming very close to them over the past few years. They would certainly, of very few people in my circle, be at my first, televised stand up special *fingers crossed* Not to say that I don't have peeps back at home in d.c. that aren't on that level, but I don't have to explain why people have certain people as best friends. There's just a certain clicking that works on many levels, that you feel God knew what He was doing, when he brought (a) certain person(s) into you life. Anyway, that coupled with the fact that I have lived with them for the past year, has brought us closer, and I've learned some things living with them, about myself, married couples, kids, and being a better friend in general, that hopefully I'll use to grow as a better person. Since I lived with a married couple w/ kids, I also got material on their asses too. HA! HA! But the point that I'm trying to make is, that considering they're most of my family, away from my family back home in D.C., to part ways from them, leaves me nothing but the option to think about how my life proceeds with two less (four including their children) important people in my life. I was thinking about that as I was driving, listening to songs like K-Ci&JoJo's "All The Things I Should Have Known", and U2's "With or Without You", my car loaded with the last of my worldly possessions, on the way to my new spot. It was almost exactly the same feeling I had the day I left home(D.C.) back in May of 2000 to come to California-exciting, but without the people most important in my life, to take the journey with me. And when I think about that drive I made tonight, I realize that success, though nothing wrong with it and most people seek it, it sometimes comes, and especially in my case, at a price where the closer you get, the more the journey is made to be lone.

The Valentine's Day Massacre of Chris Reese

Okay, so now that Valentine's Day is done, and a week removed, I can sit and speak on my thoughts of how this day plays in my life (or lack thereof). Now, I realize that this day, Valentine's, is something women take to heart more than men, and that many use this day as a gauge to know exactly how much their 'other half' cares, appreciates, and considers them special. At the very minimum, most women get swept up in the supposed romance of this day - even those that may not have their own 'valentine." Case in point, this past Valentine's Day, a (female) friend of mine's, called me up and asked me who my valentine was. WTF? What is that? What am I, back in grade school handing out those boxed valentine greetings and heart shaped lollipops to all my little classmate buddies? Of course I understand what she was really asking was, if there was someone special in my life. At the time, I didn't know how to respond (I actually told her I didn't know), because there's suppose to be someone I'm "supposedly" talking to, but my official position is that I am with no one. My reason why is two-fold. First, probably because I don't bang, blaze, "drank", thug, sling, baby boy (yes, i'm using this a verb), tatt (yet another verb use) rap, ball, lift, or push a fly whip. Another friend of mine's told me that she could never talk to someone like me, 'cause I didn't have enough "edge", though she couldn't tell me what edge was. Well if not having edge means I don't have an impressive jail record, don't get into fights wherever I go, don't beat your own ass every now and then, don't stalk, and am mentally stable, then I guess I'm that. I would probably go so far as to say, that because of that, I am seen as the proverbial "nice guy" in some eyes. Many women (and men) reading this are probably saying to themselves, then it's probably the type of woman you choose to keep as your friends, and that you should try to find better caliber friends - which may be true. But here's why for the past couple of years, I haven't put that energy into going after that "caliber", which leads me to my second answer of why I'm alone. And that answer is, BECAUSE I'M THAT CALIBER TOO!! Game recognizes game. Con recognizes con. Caliber should recognize caliber and I ain't got time to stop for someone who fails to meet me halfway on seeing that I'm on my grind and I'm the shit!! I'm skinny as fuck, but I'm still the shit! I'm not rich (yet), but I'm still the shit!! I don't do roses, 'cause it's MY time. Fuck that. Catch me a couple of years ago on that one. I don't do anything else, because quite simply, I feel someone should be buying me something.. and not even really that...just recognize and put your lighter up for this nigga...ya ya, i know..i sound conceited, self centered, i'm smelling myself- to which i respond, yeah i know... that same friend who called me this past Valentine's Day, once told me that I have a HUGE ego.. I thought to myself, Ego? I don't know what you talkin' about? The only ego i got, I put butter and syrup on... and I can't help it, if you think I'm God's gift to women. HAAA!!(By the way, her statement about my ego was an emotional retaliation i think, but that's another story i'll save for another time). Point is, cocky might be bold and offensive. And in this country I think that people think that you're only allowed to be as confident as you are good looking. But make no mistake, that sure nigga always stays up in peoples mouths. Where I gotta go, doesn't allow me to stop for something as trivial as a day called Valentines. Take the blue pill, sell myself short, and always wake up to Valentines? or take the red pill and see just how deep the rabbit hole goes? ...Chris? Chris Reese is dead my friends...from now on you can call me The Chris Reese, and as you can see, that kid's much more smarter now

BITCH, BE COOL!!!

Ya, so I have this job delivering groceries right?(hey, gotta do something to pay the bills until comedy kicks in right)? Here's my problem which is not necessarily with the job, but with who I'm delivering to. If I'm delivering some form of uncooked raw meat to your house, and you have some kind of animal in your house that damn near outweighs me, that can smell what the Rock's got cooking, coupled with the fact that your animal don't see too many black people too often, coupled with the fact that the black man that your animal doesn't get to see too often is carrying the raw meat within the vicinity of said animal, here's a lil advice: TELL SOMEBODY 'BOUT THAT SHIT!! Forewarn!! Put some signs up like, Just Leave Our Shit On The Corner!! Or how 'bout, Our Dogs Don't Get To See That Many Black People, So If You're Black, You Might Want To Turn Your Black Ass Around Now!! You're not offending me by letting me know in advance that your dog is racist. That being said, I had to make a grocery delivery for the first time to some rich ass white people living way up in the mountains. Upon my arrival, two horses, running like they SeaBiscuit in the final race of the triple crown, came running out after me - yet for the life of me, I couldn't understand why horses would be barking. The fact that I almost shit on myself, cleared my suspicions about these dubious horses, and indeed confirmed my suspicions that these were really two BIG ASS rotweilers. Not one, but TWO, REALLY BIG ASS rotweilers - they might as well have been Jurassic Park dinosaurs, and I'm the idiot that got set up to be on this island. I proceed to jump in my truck, and wait for someone to come get these bastards. I guess the fact that the barking from his four legged killers seemed more like a war cry, instead of a Lassie welcomes home family, Norman Rockwell painting type of barking, piqued the owners interest, convincing him to come outside to see what was going on. In response to his dogs barking, he replied just like every other deluded owner of wild animals , Oh, they won't hurt anybody! Yeah right! I got three problems with that: number one, I don't fuck with rotweilers...cuz they crazy. Number two, I don't fuck with rotweilers...CUZ THEY CRAZY!!! (seriously, there's something not right about rotweilers, kind of like Terry McMillan's appearance/interview on the Oprah Winfrey show last year( both of 'em got that "just flicked the fuck off " potential), and 3) that type of nonchalant attitude about animals, is the same reason white people get attacked by sharks, get their ass kicked by deer on When Animals Attack, and surprised attacked and killed by THEIR OWN DAMN ROTWEILERS!! Fuck that, I'm not fucking with no damn rotweilers!!! I don't sleep on NO animals. I got an animal, and if that water turtle even look at me funny from inside his tank, I'll beat his ass with a police slapstick. Did I neglect to mention the fact that these people have a two year old child around these dogs? Okay, so what you're telling me is, we love our child, but shit, it ain't hard to make another one, if need be...but I digress...
Needless to say, I made it out of there that night alive, But all I'm saying is, I'ma do what I have to do to protect myself, because the dogs don't like me, and I sure as hell don't like their ass. Maybe since the owners care for the dogs so much, that love is reciprocated by the dogs. So the next time I have to make a delivery there, I'ma just drive my truck INTO the house. And when the dogs start barking this time, I'ma get medieval on their ass like Jules, grab the owner in a chokehold, put a gun to his head, and yell out, TELL THEM BITCHES BE COOL!!! SAY BITCHES BE COOL!!! CHILL THEM BITCHES OUT!!! NOW WE'RE ALL GONNA BE A BUNCH OF FONZIES, AREN'T WE?!!! THAT'S WHAT WE'RE GONNA BE!!! WE'RE GONNA BE COOL!!!

Jiffy pop corn, and I don't care.........

Saturday night...Okay, so who remembers Jiffy Pop popcorn? You remember. Comes in the round package with the wire handle and you put it on the stove and pop it until the aluminum foil expands. Right? Yeah, you remember...that was a long time ago, and they don't even make it no more you're saying to yourself? Same as I thought until I saw it in the store the other day. So the nostalgia within me says, I'll get one for old times sake, hook it up with a movie, should be good times. I mean come on, it actually says on the package, just as fun making it, as it is eating it. Well if they mean by that, clear your schedule for most of the day so you can make the damn popcorn AND consult your doctor before engaging in a new workout regimen, then I guess it is a good time. How did the hell did we ever survive on Jiffy Pop before microwave popcorn? IT TAKES FOREVER TO MAKE!!!!...you gotta put it on the stove and wait to you hear the sizzling, then when you hear the sizzle, shake it, right?!. Three to five minutes right?! Okay, so I turn on the flame, and put it on the stove...one minute...three minutes...five minutes.............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................WHERE THE HELL IS THE DAMN SIZZLE?! Holdup, maybe I didn't turn on the stove, let me check under it. No, it's on. I see the flame. Well maybe my gas flame isn't hot this time. Let me stick my finger in it. No it's hot. Okay maybe it just needs more time. I'll just let it sit here while I go to the emergency room for my third degree burn. So after about five hours in the emergency room, as you might imagine, I'm a little hungry, so I stop by 7-11 to grab some Gatorade and a bag of popcorn. When I come home, I can't understand this sizzling I'm hearing. Then I remember - MY JIFFY POP!! So I run to the kitchen, and shake it, shake it, shake it like a polaroid picture... about this time, my roomies are dressed, and are leaving the house for Sunday service, while I'm standing over this damn popcorn working out like it's Taebo, step aerobics, yoga booty ballet, weight training, some damn thing. I'm switching off on arms, taking in a lot of oxygen, breathing hard and shit... I been shaking this thing forever, and quite frankly, my roomies are back from church, ready to eat popcorn, wondering when to start the damn movie!!! Finally, finally, the popcorn starts popping, and the foil starts expanding. When I'm done, my roomies ask if I'm gonna watch the movie and eat popcorn w/ them. No, I'ma go chill in the sauna, and then take a nap afterwards, just like people do after a workout! What the hell is wrong with y'all?!! I must admit, my arms are strong now though. I can slap the shit out of a building, and tree trunks. Slapping a woman is attempted murder... I do think Jiffy Pop needs to change its angle though. Popcorn is too hard. Maybe they should just market the wire handle so you can use it to jimmy open your car door when you get locked out. When you're done, just give the kids the seeds to use in a pellet gun to shoot at people while you're driving by other cars in celebration of breaking into your own car... this has been Chris Reese, stabbing out...

Kick in the door, baby!!!

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!! And what baby?!! It's O-VER now!! Ya boy's official and he's worldwide now!! The takeover is now in effect, and I ain't stopping till I got the whole east coast on my back...till I restore the balance back to the entertainment force...till MY black ass becomes the governor of California, till they say that boy's vichyssoise...ya heard? Alright, i guess that's enough of me smelling myself(for now), but ya gotta feel me on being cised about my website going live.... gotta admit, it looks pretty sick, so i gotta give mad love out to the Illpoet #7 for designing my site...got me looking like Leroy from the Last Dragon with "the glow" on my front page...that's some foreshadowing for your ass if you've ever seen some(meaningless side note: what the hell ever happened to Taimak anyway?) Anyway, this is my very first official blog ever-EVER! So, I know i use this to record my thoughts, day to day goings on in my life, yadi yadi yah... but what i really hope to do with this, is two fold: first, i hope to let people get to know who Chris Reese really is, and second, to be able to use this as a tool to help develop material. And YOU are blessed, lucky, special, born into rich Republican family privileged enough to see how a joke comes to be, from its genesis to the moment I go on stage, and bomb my MFing black ass off-like Sam Jackson in "The Man"! HA HA! But in comedy, you gotta bomb to blow.... That being said, time for me to roll bounce.... sooooooo, so long, adios, arivaderche, ciao bella, bonsoir, and if you live in Southern California, insert whatever the hell other language you speak here__________! This has been Chris Reese, stabbing out......