NEW WEBSITE!!

So, the website is still pretty much in beta mode right now but I just got so excited and wanted to release it early for you guys. I will still be posting on here, but I will also be posting on the new website. Soon I will stop posting here and everything will be on the new site. Please bear with me as the new site will continually be under construction. Who knows, there might be a re-re-launch party when its all done! Stay tuned!


You thought i wasn't going to give you the new site url huh?

CLICK HERE

Traffic Can Be Fun!

     Hey scientists and engineers what happened to flying cars? Weren’t we supposed to be shooting through the air at incredible speeds in shiny metallic futuristic flying mobiles? What happened? I’ll tell you what, every hour I sit in horrendous traffic on the 405 (Los Angelinos) and or 680 or 880 (Bay Area folk) the more I wish I had one of those flying cars.

 I hate traffic and for me it’s unavoidable because I commute and travel a lot. Never have I encountered worse traffic than in California. I had no problems in New York, Dallas, even Chicago. However, California, particularly Bay Area and Los Angeles traffic make me want to invest in a tank. Luckily I have been doing it for so long that it has become easier for me to deal with. I am going to share with you a few of the ways I deal with traffic.

I sing.

When I am alone in my car or even with company (it’s always better with an audience) it becomes American Idol time. I happen to have a vast knowledge of songs and if I don’t know the words I am a very fast learner. Singing helps to pass the time for me and also makes the car ride a little more enjoyable. I’m not sure what my passengers think but if they don’t want me to sing then maybe they shouldn’t be in a car with me.

I play games.

I like to play games like: Who is Picking Their Nose, and Who Just Doesn’t Care about Other Drivers and is Talking on the Phone Right Now? I also like to play, What is that Driver Thinking, I Wonder if They are Wearing Pants, and if its happens to be night time my personal favorite: Oh Crap, Is That A Cop?

I coast.

I have learned that the DMV handbooks were right and an optimal distance to follow another vehicle is about 2-3 seconds. This is especially true in traffic. Too often have I seen another driver ride the bumper of the person in front of them only to break every half second to avoid rear-ending them. It is ridiculous. If you follow a few seconds behind you can casually coast and never have to put your foot on the brake. This also gives the illusion that it’s not Stop-and-go traffic but –go-very-slow traffic.

I also don’t speed.

There is no logical reason to drive 90mph on the highway. Its unsafe and uses way more fuel than driving a safer speed(usually 85mph). I’m kidding, drive the speed limit and stay alive.

I ponder life.

Some if not most of my best ideas for basically anything have come from one of three of my favorite places to think. The shower, the toilet, and sitting in my car in traffic.The idea to write about surviving traffic came from sitting in my car in traffic. How strange right? I know I’m brilliant.

I hope some of these tips help you the next time you find yourself making awkward eye contact with the person in the car in front of you through their rear-view mirror. If anything I hope you at least remember reading this post and can chuckle about it later; while you’re stuck in traffic. Thanks for reading and safe driving! 

I'm All In

     Well looks like I'm in. I'm committed and there is no turning back now, I have decided to officially become a blogger. That's something I never thought that I would say. 

                                                                Eep

     When I tell people I blog I usually get the same reaction as when I tell people I am a comedian.

                                              "So what do you do?"

                    "I'm a comedian and a writer. I have a blog." 

                                      "Ohhhh cooool..." 

                                "I also write for televis-!" 

                                "That's nice, I'm hungry." 

     That is usually how a conversation goes when I meet someone new or someone I've known for awhile inquires as to how I earn a living (barely). It's okay, as an actor and comedian I'm used to being heckled and can most often roll with the punches. I like what I do and lately as I have filling this blog with more entries I have grown to love blogging. Moreover, as I get ready to start my usual summertime traveling I find myself even more excited to write.

     There is something freeing and exciting about being able to share my experiences with friends, family, strangers and whomever else may read this blog. It allows me to be creative in more ways than just posting pictures on my Instagram. Not only do my readers get to see the beautiful(am I pushing it?) pictures I post but they get to read about the awesome or not so awesome experience behind the picture. Even though I am traveling alone most of the time, sharing helps me to feel connected to home.

     Connection is the one of the main reasons I have decided to fully commit to this. I love human connection, connecting with nature and well, connecting with myself. Traveling and writing really help me to connect with myself on a deeper level as opposed to sitting at home playing video-games or watching television.

     Shortly I'll be launching my new website (which will look a lot better than this hosted one) and from that point on I'll be posting there. Don't worry I will provide links and keep you informed along the transition. I am also going to stick to a more regular posting schedule. I'll have more advice and tips, random stories, tales from my travels and helpful tips on how to be whatever you want.

      I am all in now. I am committed. I want to thank you for following and sticking with me this far and I can promise you it will only get better from here. Thanks for reading and happy travels.

How to Survive a Road Trip

         Since the title of my blog is AdventureChris I thought that I would start posting some adventure posts. So I have decided to do a weekly “ How to Survive” post, in which I give advice on how to survive various situations involving travel and adventure. Now, these posts are not intended to be humorous so please refrain from laughing.

How to Survive the Road Trip

In 5 Easy Steps

Step 1: Bring snacks.

           

Sure deep fried chicken wings, greasy cheeseburgers and super stuffed-grande-burritos are delicious but let’s face it, you’re going to be sitting in a car for hours and even days and there’s not much room for physical activity. Although, you could make “fit-pit” stops as I like to call them. A fit-pit stop is pulling over at a rest stop or safe location (not the side of the highway) and getting in a quick ten to fifteen minute workout. It should be enough to stretch the muscles, burn some calories and get the blood flowing. This sounds like a good idea but if you’re like me and sweat like a turkey on thanksgiving, no one will appreciate your “aroma” in the car; especially driving through the desert. If you have room in your vehicle pack a cooler with healthy snacks that won’t perish too fast, such as sandwiches without mayo trail mix or beef jerky and granola bars. Make sure to bring plenty of water too. Do yourself a favor and save some time and save your waistline.

Step 2: Sleep.

            So there I was, miles above the Earth’s surface traveling at mach 2 speeds in my F22 stealth fighter. Enemy bogies were fixed on my location and coming in hot! The enemy fighter plane at my six had achieved radar lock and fired one of its missiles. I had no time to think and instinct kicked in. I pointed the nose of my jet straight down and barrel rolled careening towards the mountain range below, when suddenly, a semi-truck appeared directly in front of me! What was a semi-truck doing in the sky? I thought to myself. Oh that’s right, I’m driving in my car so this must be a dream. I shouldn't be sleeping, I should be driving! This terrifying Top-Gun tale was meant to stress the importance of planning rest stops on your trip. Call ahead and book reservations at hotels and lodges along the way. If you feel sleepy while driving, pull over and let someone else man the helm for a while. Even professional truckers aren’t supposed to drive more than eleven hours in one day. Be smart and get ample sleep.

Step 3: Music. Lots of it.

           

       I once spent over ten hours in a car on a road-trip listening to the ENTIRE ( not by choice) Sherlock Holmes Mystery series on audio-book. When we arrived at our destination I found myself unknowingly speaking in a British accent for at least two days! Unless your car has satellite radio, good stations get harder and harder to find, especially as you head into more remote areas. Make sure to bring an ample amount of CD’s or update your playlists to be sure that you don’t get bored on the trip. Be sure to keep the music lively and upbeat to help prevent dozing off at the wheel. Also make sure there is at least one loud classic rock mix available for those moments when someone wants to talk about feelings or the funny thing their cat did the other night.

Step 4: Pimp Your Ride.

           

       Everyone has electronic devices, whether it’s an e-reader, a net-book, or a cellphone and we all bring them with us. Consequently these devices need to be charged and most vehicles only have one or two AC outlets. Furthermore, thanks to a particular fruit based company not everyone’s device uses the same charger anymore, thus leaving the option of sharing chargers out. Don’t be the one with the most LTE coverage anywhere in the United States and a dead phone. I’d urge you to pay a visit to your local electronics store and pick up a multi-port/USB car charger. This will ensure that no one feels the shame of getting left out of the electronic “watering-hole”.

Step 5: Roadside Service.

            It’s a good idea to make sure at least one of the people on the trip has emergency roadside service. Sooner or later, if you take enough road trips, eventually you might find yourself stuck on the side of the road, halfway between the Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Hills Have Eyes; we all know how those situations turned out…

            Now you should have all the tools you need to have a fun, safe and successful road trip. Happy travels! 

Grocery Shopping

       Okay, so you’ve come home looking for something to eat and it just so happens that you have nothing in your refrigerator or cupboards. You have not even a slice of bread or a carton of eggs to munch on. So you get in your car and drive into town to find a grocery store to buy food. As you draw nearer to town you come across a fantastic store. This store has everything you could ever want. This store has an excellent deli, and bakery and only gets its ingredients from local and organic farms and butcher shops. This store also has the best and widest selection of alcohol you have ever seen. This store is perfect. But, this store challenges you. It makes you feel small and every single time you have visited this store you have somehow always picked the stupid shopping cart. You know, the cart with the floppy wheel and the handles that have been broken off. It’s not you, it’s just that every time you get close to this perfect store you suddenly don’t know where you are and haven’t the slightest clue as to what you are doing. Not to mention this store is a few miles out of the way. However, whenever you are in town you always visit this store and even though you may not buy anything it’s always completely worth it to step foot inside its amazing doors. So you drive buy it maybe because you are scared that you can’t afford anything inside this store. Its prices seem high and you aren’t positive that you make enough money to buy anything from it.

         So you go to the local smaller grocery store. This store had bright and flashy lights and signs for amazing sales. You step foot into it and at first glance it seems amazing. It’s got everything on your list, and they are all on sale! So you start shopping, and boy does it feel great. Milk, eggs, butter this place has it all. But then you realize… the sale prices aren’t sale prices. They are actually more expensive than that of the other store. They have just been marked down from an extremely high price so that they look like sale prices. You’re not actually saving money at all, and to top it off the stores coupons are all expired! The store has been playing you since day one! Angrily you stomp out of the market and hop back in your car and drive from store to store searching desperately for a grocer that isn’t going to price gouge you or worse: charge for bags.  You try the wholesale store which has most of what you need but in insane quantities that quite honestly, you aren’t ready for yet. You head into mom and pop stores looking for the things you need, and although they may have a lot of one thing that you need they simply don’t have anything else and you can’t survive the month with an overabundance of one item on your list. You have even tried the convenience stores but they are just too small and have only enough to last you a week or so at max that you can’t justify shopping there long term. So you go home, defeated and slump down into you couch and order Chinese takeout. But, you can’t live on take out for too long.

        You need long term sustenance, and the only place that has everything you need is the market that is miles out of town. You get in your car and make the drive up. When you get there you find that the entrances are blocked by carts and signs and you can’t get in. Maybe the perfect store saw you try all those other markets and won’t let you in its doors because you have the smell of gas station convenience store on you, or the stench of GMO produce on your clothes. You try and you try but the Grocer just won’t let you in. You try to remind this grocer of all the things you have bought for them and how you even helped them replace some of their inventory when they were running low! Maybe it’s because you used to shop at their sister store instead of them a long time ago. But this was before you knew of this store. This store is amazing. It’s got everything you want and although it doesn’t price gouge you it doesn’t let you get away with using expired coupons.  There are only two things you can do in this situation: you can keep trying to convince this store that you have the money to shop there and no other store has what this store has and if you were to be allowed to shop here you would no longer have any need nor want to get your groceries at any other store. Or, you can walk away and drive to the next town three hundred miles away and try to find another store like this one. Even though you know that it is just about impossible.
   
        You have never seen a store like this one. This store is big, but not too big, it’s got up-to-date features and has everything you could ever want. This store keeps you in check with its fair prices and ample selection. You love this store and were stupid to try any other store. So what do you do? What do you do? You want to shop here. You need to shop here.

I need you. 

Why I Comedy

    When I was a kid I was very small. I was just a mere fraction of this behemoth of a man that you may have come to know. As almost every man under the height of 5 foot 5 knows, being small comes with a price. That price is usually paid throughout your years in the form of ultimate wedgies, swirlys, stolen lunches and like clockwork getting pummeled by the local bully every Friday at lunchtime. Now, I have not personally experienced this, and I can safely say that I was a very small very skinny kid growing up and I was not bullied. At all. I do not know the experience of having my underwear driven up into my butt-cheeks, nor am I familiar with the sensation of toilet water bustling about my head as I am hung upside down over a toilet bowl. No ladies and gentleman I was not bullied because I had a secret weapon. A very powerful weapon at my disposal that I found when used properly and at the right time would render any bully defenseless. What did I have in my back pocket all those years of being small that made these bullies stop in their tracks? I had comedy.

         I made people laugh, and I was good at it. There was only one time in my life that I remember coming close to being bullied. I was in the sixth grade in the locker room getting changed for physical education class. I remember there was this huge thirty-year old sixth grader Paul, whom most of the school was afraid of. He had close ties to a particular Mexican gang and was known for his violent and destructive behavior. On this day he decided that he would try to pick on the new kid (me) at the school. Halfway through getting my shirt on, Paul walks up behind me and says in his loud boisterous voice, “Hey man! That’s my locker. You’re using my locker.”              

 “Oh yeah?” I say, turning around. “Well, it’s all yours man, oh and I left your mom’s panties in there because she forgot them at my house. I figure you could give them back to her for me.” I moved to the side so he could see the white cotton floral patterned pair of women’s underwear hanging in the locker. Don’t ask me why I had a pair of women’s panties on me at the time, that’s a different story. I just stood there before him silently waiting for the pummeling that was sure to come as everyone burst into laughter around us. But, there was no pummeling. He stared at me in shock for a few seconds and then what he said next surprised even his own goons! “You know what man? You’re alright.” And with a huge pat on the back I became part of his gang. In hindsight maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to join a gang in the sixth grade, but it sure beat the hell out of getting bullied.

          Comedy has always been my way out. It has been there for me in times of sadness and despair, and times of happiness and joy. Comedy has always been my way to connect with people from all walks of life. I am blessed to be able to make a semi-living from my jokes. They say that mathematics is the language of the universe; I disagree. I think that comedy is the language of the universe. You may not be able to prove that black holes exist or string theory is viable but how awesome would it be if you made an alien laugh? If I landed on a planet in a distant galaxy I wouldn’t want to be greeted by a bunch of numbers and flashy lights. No, I want to see a man smash a watermelon with a huge wooden mallet, or hear about the elusive Deerbra. I want to laugh before I eventually destroy your planet and rob it of its resources. Why do you think aliens never abduct scientists, or mathematicians? They always seem to go for the dumbest, most red-neck, completely oblivious people…

Writer's Blocked: Episode 4

And just like that a perfect afternoon was ruined. Mike wormed his way into the booth right next to Alice. He put his arm around her and gave her a huge and very unnecessary squeeze. She looked annoyed and tried to shrug him off. “Didn’t you already eat lunch today Mike?” Craig said squirming in the booth trying to make more room. “I had a few bagels earlier yes.” Mike said a little embarrassed. “You had 6! You had 6 bagels right before we left!” Craig shouted, Mike was starting to pout, “That is absolutely NOT true-I only had 2.”

“We all saw you Mike. You were covered in cream cheese, and singing Lady Gaga with your mouth full of asiago crumbs!”

“Okay guys, If Mike wants to have another lunch let’s just let him, as long as he pays for everyone else too.” I said hoping to diffuse the tension between Craig and Mike, and also get a little something out of it. “You got it! Thanks Christian!” Mike said gleefully. He then proceeded to stuff a handful of chips into his mouth.  I tried not to gag. “So this is great news right?” said Joe. He was referring to our show getting picked up for the season. We had all been on edge since the premier because we weren’t sure if the Network’s idea to bring Phil Armstrong back to television was the right choice. Phil had been a legend in television almost 30 years ago. He was the golden boy of comedy, getting his start on the very famous very funny television show News Soup. News Soup was one of the longest running sitcoms to date, and after 15 very successful seasons it finally ended in 1994. “Hell yeah, I never thought that we would make it past the pilot. Especially considering how little work we actually do.”

“Whoa Vince, back it up. I happen to work really hard. I’m pretty much the backbone of this operation. “Craig retorted. “ What?” I have to say something. “No you aren’t! Craig, every time we need you we can’t find you!”

“That’s a lie! That’s because I happen to have very important things to do.”

“Everyone knows it's because you’re sleeping under your desk Craig.”

“I have a very temperamental cat! I don’t get a lot of sleep at night!” Craig cries.

“What? What does- how does that even make sense?”

Mike has signaled our waiter for another round of drinks. Alice decides to chime in. “ Vince is always reading his little comic books at his cubicle.”

“They aren’t comics they are graphic novels.” Vince corrects her. The shots come to the table and we each eagerly grab one and quickly slam it back. “I’m pretty sure they are comics.” Says Alice as she reaches for more chips. “Nerd!” yells Mike. He looks around the room confused as if no one at the table had an idea who yelled that.  Everyone stops eating. We all look at Mike. He looks back at us like a sad cow next in line to be slaughtered. Before the onslaught of insults can begin, Vince checks his watch and shouts “Crap! We gotta get back to the office!” Mike lets out a deep sigh of relief. He is spared for now. One by one we stumble out of the booth and make our way out of the restaurant. “See ya tomorrow guys!” Yells Jake, as we are leaving. We seriously have to find a new place to go…

Don't Forget to Bring a Towel

They say that hospitals are the most germ infested places in the world. You are more likely to get sick at the hospital than you are at home. I disagree. I say the most disgusting germ infested places in the world are gyms. Gyms harbor some of the most harmful bacteria known to man, carried into them by some of the most vile people in the world. It doesn't matter what kind of gym either; Karate dojos, MMA gyms, Crossfit centers and "Athletic Clubs." Well played Athletic Club on choosing the fancy name. You cant hide from us, we know what you really are. Let me walk you through a typical night in hell, or as I like to call it: 24hour Fitness.

Upon entering the gym my nose is greeted by the pungent aroma of sweat, alcohol and week old taco meat. That's not a racist remark by the way. Next time you're cooking up some delicious tacos on a Tuesday night, take a nice hearty whiff of the meat and tell me I'm wrong.
   I like to do a little warm-up run before I hit the weights, so naturally I make my way upstairs to the cardio section of the gym. It is of course a weeknight so all of the disgruntled white-collar-nine-to-five'ers are taking up all of the treadmills. I keep looking around and finally I spot Bill, from accounting stumbling off of a treadmill. Bill[we'll call him that since I don't know his real name] weighs about five thousand pounds and from what it looks like showers once a week. His treadmill is soaked in sweat. Sweat is dripping from the buttons and the touch screen looks as if it was just rubbed with Crisco. Does Bill wipe the machine down before leaving it so the next person to use it (me) doesn't have to shower in his disgusting filth? Of course not! No, Bill walks away still angry about falling behind on his tps reports that he doesn't give wiping the machine a second thought. After unloading the whole bottle of disinfectant onto the machine I am able to get my run in. Suddenly something unmentionable and horrid worms its way into my nostrils making its way to my taste buds. Gross I can taste it. I look to my left and I am running next to none other than; taco meat guy. Yes, this guy refuses to wear deodorant or brush his teeth. He too showers only once a week. I usually do a two-mile warmup but today I can only stomach about one mile, due to the fact that I have been holding my breath for ten minutes. I can't take it anymore and pound on the stop button bringing the treadmill to a screeching halt. I muster up enough courage and oxygen to go back and wipe my machine down(because I am a good person)
  Finally it is time to hit the weights. I spot an open bench press area and lay my towel down on the bench. Oh yeah, I bring a towel to the gym because I am a respectful and clean human being. I also am not a big fan of lice. Have you ever looked down at a bench that someone was using and seen that familiar sweat spot where their head was just resting? Well take a closer look and you'll more than likely see tiny little white things. Now it could be dandruff, which in that case:gross. It could also be lice. In any case I'm not taking my chances, and I opt for the wipe-down-towel-down. Everything is going fine at this point and I am grinding through my sets without problem. Until little Johnny-never-learned-to-wipe-properly-after-pooping decides to spot his buddy on the bench behind mine. I can smell the corn in his poop, that's how absolutely disgusting he is. How does his buddy not smell him when he's dangling his balls inches above his face? I've got one more set but I cant take it anymore and have to move on. Throughout the course of the night I run into Homeless Pete who likes to sit at the leg press and stare into the distance doing one or two presses every four hours. I meet Blue Jean Sam by the free weights who is unaware that not only are blue jeans inappropriate gym attire but they soak up the sweet smell of ball sweat like nothing else. I also meet a few of Snow White's  missing dwarfs; Sneezy, Drippy, and Coughy. None of them cover their mouths and none of them have napkins or tissues. The whole gym at this point feels like a dirty bathhouse, but smells more like an outhouse, and no one in this gym has a freaking TOWEL!
  I can't take anymore. I have to leave. I stumble past Frank who wears sweatpants to the gym and "forgets" to wear underwear, and burst through the exit doors of the gym. I feel like an escaped slave bursting up from the tunnels of the underground railroad. I feel violated in so many ways and I probably need to schedule an appointment with my doctor for a full work-up.
  Here is a tip. If you stink before going to the gym, please put on deodorant and wipe yourself down with something antibacterial. Don't wear jeans to the gym, cover your mouth when you sneeze, wipe down your machines after you use them, stop screaming, and please, please bring a towel.

I Am Not Smooth

Despite what you may think I am not as smooth as it would appear. Sure I can get on a stage and make a fool of myself telling jokes or acting like a seventeenth century Shakespearean baseball player [its an improv thing] but when it comes to talking to women, I am horrible. I can go from James Bond charming a room of writers and producers, and have them eating out of the palm of my hand, to Gold Bond, medicated cream. Yes, I am aware that reference makes no sense in the analogy, however it does draw an accurate depiction of my skills at conversing with the opposite sex. It's weird and gross leaves you sticky and Shaq endorses it...see what I mean? Lets start from the beginning, and you'll soon see what I am talking about.

THE OPENING: 
 Most people can agree that the best opening for meeting someone is " Hi my name is-" followed by a handshake or fist bump depending on what part of Los Angeles you are in. That part is fine. Where I have trouble is what follows.

THE INTERVIEW: 
" So what do you do?" is one of the most common questions in the dating world. This is where I lose people. When most people hear Comedian, I become a trained monkey, specifically there for the sole purpose of entertaining them and their friends. " Go ahead funny guy, tell me a joke!"
"Make me laugh!"
" Lets hear your set funny guy!"
" Stand on your head! Juggle! Dance monkey DANCE!" which is quickly followed by " Oh my God, you know who's funny? Kevin Hart." That's when its all over. Now for the rest of the night I'm telling  jokes about my checking and savings account and talking about the kids I don't have, and going on about my father's huge penis. The second option I could go with is actor. Their follow up: " So what restaurant do you work at?" Its a losing battle. So obviously my answer is: " What do I do? Oh, I'm a doctor." Win.

THE CONVERSATION: 
I once held a full on conversation with a brick for 3 days. I'm good here.

THE CLOSING: 
By now hopefully I have managed to make her laugh and smile and the night is turning out to be a great success. The bar is winding down and it is time to close. Keep in mind I'm not talking about sex. A close could be a future first date, a phone number, an e-mail, a glass slipper; anything really. When it comes to closing I am like Reggie Bush; figure skating. Awkward, slow, and wearing uncomfortably revealing tights. I once had a really good two hour long conversation with a woman at a bar and when it was done she said " Aren't you going to ask me my name?" I froze. She got up shook my hand, gave me a wink and walked away. I ordered another gin-and-tonic, went into the bathroom and wept. I never know what to say. Do I ask for an email? Do people still email? Do I ask for her number and then ask her if she'd like to continue the conversation in my van? Do I ask for her Facebook or Instagram account? What are the rules? My closing skills definitely need refinement. I am about as good at closing as

I Totes Prom.

What has happened to the English language today? It seems like today's generation of tweens and adults [who don't want to grow up] are using short handed text message speech as part of their daily vernacular. I have heard my own sweet little sister (10 years of age) spewing out abbreviations like "totes" (totally) and "prom prom" (promise) casually during conversation. She informed me that this is the way kids speak these days and I needed to get with it or I was totes donzo. I have no idea what's going on there.

I swear if I hear another person verbally say "LOL" rather than actually laughing out loud I am going to lose it. Have we as American people become too lazy to put together proper words? Are our mouths too busy sucking down energy drinks, and cheeseburgers that they simply cannot physically form the words? Will we see classes like " Texting 101" and "Beginning Emojis" taught in our colleges and schools?

I worry for the future of our youth. With social media on the rise there is no telling how communication and speech will evolve. Ttfn, and totes reply wth ur ideas. Tnks! : )

Writer's Blocked: Episode 3

“ I-I dunno if I’m comfortable doing that man.” Joe said fidgeting in his chair. Sweat stains were starting to form under his arms. “ Come on, you’ll be fine buddy! Its not that far of a drop and Craig will be out there with his truck so you’ll land safely in the bed. Noooothing to worry about.”
“Okay. But I better get some sort of achievement medal for this or something.”
“Again Joe, not a video-game.”
Grumbling to himself Joe starts to take off his shirt. “ We aren’t really going through with this plan are we?“  Alice says looking at me semi-worried “ Of course not. I just wanted to see if the idiot would actually do it!“ I whisper back. “You’re mean.“ She says. Alice jabs me in the side with her elbow and flashes me a disapproving but slightly amused look. “ Okay guys, lets go.” I say, and the group starts to make its way towards the elevator. “Hey Mike? We’re all going to The Blue Waffle! Meet us there man!” Yelled Vince. Vince was another writer and a close buddy of mine. He was a pop-culture genius. Vince knew everything about the world of comics, movies, music, the food network, the latest Beanie Babies( I didn’t even know they still made them.) and more; pretty much everything. He was also an amazing artist. We have all been trying to get him on the animation team but he never felt like his work was good enough. His cubicle was full of sketch books and all of the latest comic books. If anyone had missed going to Comic-Con that year all they needed to do was go over to Vince’s cubicle and they were caught up. “ Okay! Sweet! See you guys in a hot-flash!” Mike screamed from his desk. Everyone shook their heads as we piled into the elevator. We knew we weren’t going to The Blue Waffle like Vince had told Mike. We were going to the place where we always go on exceptionally stressful days like this: Chevys. Vince looks at me, raises his hand and offers a fist-bump as to say “ I got you man, no way was I going to let Mike Chandler cock-block you again.”  I return the fist bump and we both go back to staring straight ahead. The elevator jolts to a halt, and the doors glide open as we arrive on the ground floor. “AAAAHHHHHHHHHH” A loud scream comes from outside followed by a very loud CRASH! “ Crap!”  I think. “ I totally forgot to tell Joe the plan was just a joke! He’ll be fine; I hope.”
“What was that?” says Alice, worried again. “ Sounded like a bird hitting the window.” Vince replies quickly. “ Since when do birds scream?” Alice replies. “ Must be global warming, let’s go!” I chime in. Chevys is only a few blocks away which is convenient because no one has to drive back to work after slamming back tequila shots at happy hour.
    “ Hey guys! Your usual booth?” says the host as soon as we open the doors. “ You already know Jake!” Craig replies, obviously eager to get started with the drinks. As we file in to our booth near the back of the restaurant a shout comes from the entrance. “Thanks jerks!” Its Joe and he is covered in sweat and garbage. “What happened to you man?” Vince says trying to hold in his laughter. “Ew, you stink Joe.” Alice chimes in pinching her nose. “ Laugh it up guys, laugh it up. One day I’ll get all of you!” Joe proclaims tucking his plaid button up shirt back into his brown slacks. He plops down next to Craig and shouts to the waiter for a margarita and guacamole. At last the drinks and chips arrive and we all dive in. With a mouth full of guacamole and chips Joe practically yells, “ So Christian, when are you and Alice getting married?”
“What the hell Joe?” I glare at him and lasers shoot out from my eyes. His body glows bright red and his flesh starts to burn and in less than five seconds he is reduced to nothing but hot smelly ash. We all go back to eating and carrying on like nothing had even happened.   Ugh, I wish that actually happened.  Before I could reply to his ridiculous question another shout comes from the front of the restaurant. “ Bartender! A round of shots for that sexy table in the back! And a double for the extra sexy lady!” It was Mike. Everyone slumped down a little in their seats and froze. Hopefully, if Jurassic Park was accurate, if we didn’t move Mike couldn’t see us. No such luck, Mike made his way over to us with a huge sideways smile on his face.

Writer's Blocked: Episode 2

    If there was one thing everyone could agree on around the office it was this: STAY AWAY FROM MIKE CHANDLER! Not only was Mike Chandler the office slob, he was also the office drunk, office clown, and currently holds the record for the most sexual harassment complaints filed against him in the greater Los Angeles area. There have been rumors spreading that he is going after the national title this year. (I hope he gets it.) There were only two reasons why anyone tolerated him. First, he was the Vice President of the company’s nephew and second, he was rich. I’m talking loaded. If you partied with Mike Chandler you never paid for a thing the entire night. In fact, you could probably just leave your wallet at home. He didn’t really have a real position in the company. He just sort of sat around and blasted weird European pop music from his cubicle. The only reason he had a job is because his uncle was doing Mike’s dad a favor by getting him out of the house, and slapping him with the tiniest shred of responsibility to make Mike feel like an actual adult. Once, Mike spent an entire day “researching”(watching and re-enacting scenes from  The Grey over and over) wolves on the internet for a “top secret” project sent down from the execs. Typical.
    “HAPPY HOUR ANYONE?” screamed Mike who was also leaning way too far back in his chair. No one said anything. We all stared at Mike secretly hoping he would fall backwards and a pit would open up in the floor and out would pop Hades to take him back to the underworld leaving his wallet behind, of course. No such luck. He was still there, leaning back in his chair with that stupid side-ways grin plastered across his face. I felt a poke in my side. “ So what’s the plan?” whispered a voice in my ear. “Huh? What do you mean?” I replied.
“I mean, how are we going to lose Mike?” the voice was Alice. Alice was gorgeous. She had long brown hair and the most striking blue eyes anyone had ever seen.
“ I don’t know! Why do I always have to come up with the plans?” I was starting to get annoyed, but the feeling wouldn’t last long. Alice stared at me all Zooey Deschanel with her baby blues, and I crumbled. “ Yeah! You were in the military right? Didn’t you spec-ops guys do stuff like this all the time? Sneak behind enemy lines, guerilla warfare, Call of Duty stuff?” Shouted another writer, Joe.
“ This isn’t the Army!”
“I know you have a plan man!”
“ Ugh, fine, Joe you gotta stop saying spec-ops. This isn’t a video-game.” The group huddled around me. I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. “ Okay, this is what we’re going to do…”

Writer's Blocked: Episode 1.

    “So that’s when the bird poops on his shoulder causing him to careen off the side of the road into the hot dog stand!” That was my great idea. I cant believe I just said that. As soon as the words left my mouth I thought “ Oh man, what an idiot. Why would you even say something like that Christian?” The blank stares from the other writers around the table seemed to confirm my thoughts. “ That’s great Christian, but I think we all like Bill’s idea about the giant inflatable crocodile.” My boss said with a confused look on his face. "Stupid Bill. Who wants to see another inflatable crocodile scene?” I thought to myself. “Let’s get out of the ninety’s Bill-with-your-stupid-sweater-vest-over-your-Fred-Perry-polo-shirt, and your jorts“. We all sat around the table trying to brainstorm some more ideas for next weeks show. The network had just switched our show from Monday nights to Thursday nights and today was Saturday, which meant no one wanted to be here.
    “Can we go home now? I think we have enough and my nose is runny and my knees are locking up.” Exclaimed a small voice from near the back of the room.
“ Shut-up Karl! No one cares right now.” Everyone seemed to shout simultaneously. Karl was Jewish, but not really. His last name just had a lot of z’s, e’s and i’s in it, and nobody quite knew how to pronounce it. I slouched back in my chair and the room continued on like this for another 2 hours. We all shouted out our ideas, laughed at the hilarious ones, cocked our heads to the side and let out an audible hmmmmm at the not so good ones, and of course everyone shut down Karl. Finally it was lunch time. With loud groans and grunts and a few quiet farts from Karl, we all rose up out of our chairs. “ What is everyone doing for lunch?” I asked. “Hopefully paying for me.” I said inside my head. Suddenly from down the hall startling everyone came:
“HAPPY HOUR!”
Oh sh**, was the look that appeared on everyone’s face. The group all stared at each other and thought at the exact same time: “ Oh no, not Mike. Anyone but Mike.”

Baked Beans

Once upon a time, there lived a man who had a terrible passion for baked beans. He loved them, but they always had an embarrassing and somewhat lively reaction on him.

One day, he met a girl and fell in love. When it became apparent that they would marry, he thought to himself, “She’ll never go through with the marriage with me carrying on like this,” so he made the supreme sacrifice and gave up beans.

Shortly after that they were married.

A few months later, on the way home from work, his car broke down and since they lived in the country, he called his wife and told her that he would be late because he had to walk. On his way home, he passed a small cafe and the wonderful aroma of baked beans overwhelmed him.

Since he still had several miles to walk, he figured he could walk off any ill effects before he got home. So he went in and ordered, and before leaving, had three extra large helpings of baked beans. All the way home he farted. By the time he arrived home, he felt reasonably safe.

His wife met him at the door and seemed somewhat excited. She exclaimed, “Darling, I have the most wonderful surprise for you for dinner tonight!”

She put a blindfold on him, and led him to his chair at the head of the table and made him promise not to peek.

At this point, he was beginning to feel another one coming on. Just as his wife was about to remove the blindfold, the telephone rang. She again made him promise not to peek until she returned, and away she went to answer the phone. While she was gone, he seized the opportunity. He shifted his weight to one leg and let go. It was not only loud, but as stinky as a rotten egg. He had a hard time breathing, so he felt for his napkin and fanned the air about him.

He had just started to feel better, when another urge came on. He raised his leg and RRIIIPPPP! It sounded like a diesel engine revving, and smelled worse. To keep from gagging, he tried fanning his arms a while, hoping the smell would dissipate. He got another urge. This was a real blue ribbon winner-the windows shook, the dishes on the table rattled, and a minute later, the flowers on the table were dead.

While keeping an ear tuned in on the conversation in the hallway, and keeping his promise of staying blindfolded, he carried on like this for the next 10 minutes, farting and fanning each time with his napkin. When he heard the phone farewells, he neatly laid his napkin on his lap and folded his hands on top of it. Smiling contentedly, he was the picture of innocence when his wife walked in.

Apologizing for taking so long, she asked if he had peeked at the dinner table. After assuring her he had not peeked, she removed the blindfold and yelled, “SURPRISE!”

To his shock and horror, there were 12 dinner guests seated around the table for his surprise birthday party...