Welcome to the second installment of Monday Musings, a glimpse inside this thorn patch I call a brain. Navigate at your own risk.

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“Nice tattoos,” the dude enthused, and his three friends echoed the sentiment.

“Thanks,” I replied, “I got them in prison.”

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I love that no one is able to guess my heritage correctly, mixed-up mutt that I am. I also love that the same can be said about half the citizens of America. Mass cross-breeding will be the cure for racism.

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Premature laugh lines: shoot ‘em up with Botox, or wear them like a badge of honor? Signs of aging can be rough on the ego – especially for someone born in L.A. – but I’m grateful to have lived a life filled with so much laughter that it shows.

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How come everybody tiptoes around the issue when it comes to telling someone they’re too fat, but no one seems to have a problem ripping me to shreds if I’m five pounds too skinny? Worry about the woman who is at risk for diabetes, strokes, and massive heart attacks, NOT the woman who’ll be right as rain after a burger or two.

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In order to finance the recording and production of my music, I work long hours as a promotional model. Sometimes the leftover samples are universally awesome…other times, I end up with one thousand vibrating cock rings in my closet. (No skeletons, just cock rings.) I thought my friends would be stoked to receive free toys – or at least have a good laugh about it – but most of them are acting super awkward and prudish, like I’m an asshole for trying to spice up their tried-and-true sex lives. Fine. But when he runs out of ways to make you call him Big Poppa, don’t come crying to ME.

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Whether you’re single or in a relationship, everyone should own a set of satin sheets.

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Best of both worlds, eh Russell?

Rockstars cause girls to cream their pants…comedians cause girls to WET their pants. Rockstars have groupies…comedians have hecklers. Hardly seems fair. Am I the only one who finds laughter to be a great aphrodisiac? I am? Oh.

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Your instincts about a person’s true character are always, ALWAYS correct. The question is, how often do you override them in favor of what you’d prefer to believe?

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If I had to be eaten alive by a wild animal, I’d want it to be a sea otter. I’d love being cradled on its cute little tummy…right before it pried open my shell and devoured me, that is.

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Sometimes I experience deja vu so intensely that I can’t help wondering if I’ve seen and done this all before. All of it. What if this life is both my Heaven AND my Hell, and my reward and punishment is to repeat it for all of eternity…over and over and over again?

I guess I’ll never know.

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