My car battery died. I went from running late to not running at all. I deduced dead battery when I repeatedly pressed the car alarm remote and nothing happened. I didn’t hear the familiar and reassuring “churp-churp” signaling the alarm had been disengaged. I pressed all the buttons: lock, unlock, panic.  I pressed them quickly. I pressed and held them. Nothing. The good news? The car was stuck in my own garage. The bad news? With the remote not working, how was I supposed to get into my car?

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It was a happy day for me when smoking was banned in bars and clubs around the country. I don’t miss standing on stage and being enveloped by the slow moving but relentless blue haze that seemed to creep straight out a Stephen King novel. I’ve gotten used to breathing deeply at bars and only smelling disinfectant and desperation. That changed when I went to do a show recently at Karma Lounge in New York City.

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I spent part of the holidays catching up on the movies that I missed last year. And I missed many. I always do. I just can’t keep up. It seems that by the time I finish watching the trailer and saying to myself, “Yeah, I’d like to see that” it’s already out of the theaters and on cable. But I was a bit surprised to see HBO offering a Denzel Washington movie that I’d never even heard of: Safe House? Damn. Now I’m even missing the trailers.

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