Smoke and Doors

As a means of full disclosure - I don’t smoke. Sure, I tried it and thankfully it didn’t take. I don’t have anything against smokers. Now, I don’t want to be around smoking, especially when I’m out to eat, but I certainly don’t hate smokers – smoking just isn’t for me. The debate rages on about going smoke free in our city and state and frankly that conversation is for people more qualified and intelligent than me. I’m just a guy who notices things.
I have two observations about smokers. The first is this: for whatever reason it is completely acceptable in our culture to lambaste someone for smoking. I mean you can just go off on someone and everyone seems to have that look on his or her face like, “yeah, he’s got a point there.” We’ve all seen it. Your friends find out an acquaintance or co-worker doubles as a smoker. The person in questions doesn’t seem to fit the profile and someone lets them have it. The tirade doesn’t stop with the health ramifications no, the rant goes to talk about appearance and quickly hits on what their smoking says about them as a person. Wow. But, that’s acceptable. You can call a smoker stupid. No one will stop you or tell you that’s not nice.
The second observation is smoker behavior. Like most office buildings, mine is non-smoking and the outside of the building, regardless of time or year or day, always sees a healthy gathering of smokers. What’s interesting is watching smokers exit the revolving doors of the building as they come outside. As a smoker makes their way into the door the cigarette appears in their mouth with Copperfieldian speed and like Superman in the phone booth – boom that stick is glowing by the time the fresh air hits them – all just as they appear outdoors. It’s impressive. One minute a guy is walking in the door, two pushes of the door and his mouth is on fire. The guess here is that these folks want to maximize their break time and the city breeze makes lighting the cigarette a little challenging.

Numbers for Nelson

"Hey, Sterling. What are you working on?" (Said pleasantly you get the sense they have a work friendship)
"What?" (Almost daring him to ask again)

(Picking up a paper weight and examining it) "You look hard at work, what are you doing?”

(Screaming, animated, crazy. Way over the top. Sterling believes he is the sane one in this dialogue. He believes he is completely rational and is justified in going off like this)

”Are you kidding me? What does it look like I’m doing? Hello - I’m doing numbers for Nelson. I have got to get these numbers to Nelson. Numbers to Nelson. That’s what I’m doing? What kind of question is that? I'm busting my back, churning and burning numbers, and you’re going to skip in here and run your mouth about what am I doing? I don't have the time or the inclination to talk to you about this. I have got to get these numbers to Nelson. Do you think for one minute that these numbers are somehow going to bounce off the page and stroll down to Nelson and say, "Hi ya, Nelson, we're the numbers" - no! (Jumping) That won't happen. Or maybe you’re sitting there thinking somebody is going to come in here and do this for me. Well I got news for you buster, not going to happen. For days all I've been thinking is numbers to Nelson, numbers to Nelson (chanting) numbers to Nelson (miming a high school drum major) numbers to Nelson. (Singing numbers to Nelson to tune of Frosty the snowman) Numbers to Nelson is what I have at task, I will add them up write them down and Nelson won’t have to ask - I am busy. That's right - busy. Do you know what this (holds out four fingers) is? That's a number. And you know what? That four and a bunch of his buddies have to get cruising down to Nelson. How's he (the number) going to get there? Me. What? Numbers. Where? Nelson. When? Now. I cannot be wasting time, hand holding and massaging and answering the ridiculous when I have work to do. Maybe the world in which you live has things happening on there own. But in my world baby, it's blood, sweat, tears and numbers to Nelson. So do us all a favor and leave a man's job for a man.

"Okay." (Dumbfounded)

"Numbers don't just appear. Do think numbers are just going to jump off the calendar? Or from my ruler – are you thinking all those numbers and dashes are coming off into a spreadsheet? You’re crazy. Do you think the numbers on my watch are going to jump on a sheet of paper? No. Numbers need to be created. The lottery isn't going to donate to me a bunch of numbers and even if they did, (full bodied scream, moderate tempo) how would they get to Nelson? This is ridiculous. I can’t believe I am having this conversation. I have to get these numbers to Nelson. Me. Not you. Me. Not her. Me, not we. (Shadow boxing) Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Don't waste my time. Don't question me.

Minutes later

"Nelson, here are those numbers."

(Nelson looks up from paper work)

"Oh, hey Sterling. What's this?"

"The numbers."

"The numbers . . . numbers , , , oh yeah, thanks."
Sterling turns his back and heads out the door as Nelson throws the numbers away.

Cape May Lighthouse

We were just in Cape May, NJ. This picture was taken during an early morning bike ride.

Why Flies Come In - my version

It actually has nothing to do with the food. Well, maybe somewhat. But if you think about it, as soon as a fly comes indoors their whole life changes. It’s not peaceful at all – they start getting swatted by papers and shoes and magazines. You have to agree that if they knew what life would be like on the inside they would never go. This is how it happens - a bunch of flies are hanging outside of a house or restaurant. They’re fantasizing about life on the inside. One fly starts talking about his buddy, Bill. “Bill got in. We haven’t seen him since. He’s probably rolling around in filth somewhere. What a life.” As this fly dreaming hits a manic crescendo, the brave one of the group takes a fly line to the door. His buddies never see him again. And they believe it’s because he has flown into paradise

How Food Trucks Got Started - my version

Food trucks scare me. There is something inherently unappealing about someone preparing my lunch in their trunk. But you see it quite a bit in cities – a woman or man cooking up Chinese food or hotdogs or chicken - in the back of their vehicle. Is that the passenger-side door? No, that’s where you order. Here’s how I think those “restaurants” get started: A family is on vacation and they are driving through a big city. Perhaps, it’s the first time for them in the concrete jungle. In the midst of their sight-seeing revelry, they get a flat tire. They pull off and realize they don’t have a spare. While they are having a Brady Bunch brainstorm on how to get the tire fixed, the entrepreneur among them has an idea. Let’s buy some noodles and throw together a stir-fry.

Former Stand-up Comedian - Chris Rock story

Being a comedian was always a life-long dream so it was cool to perform professionally (and often) in and around Pittsburgh. I was the house emcee at The Funny Bone from 1995 - 1997. It was good to have a home base like that, while performing at other clubs and colleges whenever possible.

As a comedian I met a few celebrities including: Howie Mandel, Drew Carey and Ray Romano. The biggest names I ever worked with personally were Lewis Black and Chris Rock.

I did two nights with Chris Rock in 1996 at The Funny Bone in Pittsburgh. It was a trip working six sold-out shows with him. He’s extremely funny and very cool. We had a conversation that is worth repeating:

Chris: Where do you live?
Me: I live with my parents, north of Pittsburgh.
Chris: How old are you?
Me: 24.
Chris: 24?! And you’re still living at home?
Me: Yeah.
Chris: Do you have a girlfriend?
Me: No.
Chris: Of course not. That’s because you live at home. Let me tell you something: you can’t get a girl with no pad. You can get a girl with no car. You can get a girl with no job. But, you CAN NOT get a girl with no pad.

When he was telling me that all I could think about was how hysterical it was and that I couldn’t wait to tell my friends.