B. I. N. G. Oh Dear God, Come On!!!

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Bingo!

Feeling fairly tired to be true so it’ll be short and sour. I seem to be finally getting back into a writing flow of some sort so need to keep the daily blogaruu going. It is amazing what a desk can do for you. The reason behind the tiredness is… oddly enough… bingo! Or more the bingo lady. But I’ll come back to that.

Yesterday I remarked at how random it is here for where you might meet someone, get their number and end up arranging to meet up on a night out. Not using an iPod all the time while walking places has been a good adjustment. Never ending random ways. Unlike ‘I got a girl’s number in a pub/club’ scenario back in Ireland. Not saying that’s bad, but 90% of the time it is actually true.

Today was another weird enough one. For some reason there’s no microwave in my apartment. I need a microwave. Meals take far too long otherwise. I’d never eat a potato if I didn’t have one. 4 minutes opposed to half an hour. I need a microwave. Anyways, decided to hunt one down on Craigslist. Cheapy mac. Found one which only needed to be picked up two streets away from where I am. Headed down. Met the girl who was selling it. I saw the glint! Think we were both surprised by each other. Pleasantly. I definitely was. Bought the microwave. Headed off. End of transaction. On the way home I got a text saying great to meet you, yadda yadda yadda, and now looks like I’ll be meeting up again with hot microwave girl. Ha, fairly bizarre but brilliant. Can’t beat the randomness. 

War Stories

Anyways, my buddy got back from the Caribbean yesterday, and it was like meeting up with an old war veteran when I met him today. As if we were both in Vietnam. Re-telling our versions of what really happened. Those first few days. Did I imagine it all? Everyone else I spoke to tried to empathize with my spiraling mental state after the first few days. Getting blank looks of… Ok, well done, get over it. Me pleadingly thinking… You weren’t there, maaan, you don’t know what really happened! He was there though. He had signed me up for it all. He can relate to the madness that ensued last week. Fill in some of the blanks and vice versa. Dispel any grey areas of doubt where I might have convinced myself something bad happened. When, in fact, it was the complete opposite. Banish the fear for good! Mind can be put at ease now. Instead just bounce the funny stories off each other.

Although I had nothing that could possibly beat the description of the private jet to Antigua. Queen size beds? Leather couches? Drinking games and pumping house music through the sound system as if though it was a nightclub? On a plane? In the sky? That is mental. Imagine if you went to bed drunk as a skunk on the flight about an hour into a 7 hour journey. Then, say, you woke up 5 hours later, not really remembering as to where you were. Rolled out of bed, a proper bed, not a reclined seat or anything. Looked out the window and realised you were on a plane. Some laugh. I think my head might have imploded if that had happened, so probably better off that I stayed in L.A for that reason alone. Baby steps and all. Gradually build up to that level. Maybe next month.

Bin... Go... Sleep

Back to the bingo. L.A is crazy. Bingo on a Monday night. Re-starting from scratch. Trying to sort out old DJ gigs that were going on the last time I was here. Myself and my buddy, Chowder, headed to the bar I DJ’ed in before. The one where I was paid in drink at the time. Anyways, trying to get the manager to commit to a night again. Tough work when other people are doing it now in your old slot. Where there’s a will though! Ending up staying for a pint. Then a pitcher. Then a game of bingo. Which I did think initially would be a good laugh. Except that the bingo girl calling out the numbers was unbelievably dull. Slowly calling out digits. Droning. Ag. Oniz. Ingly. Slow. Talk. Ing.

Making people tired. Dislike bingo. Boring bingo. Seeing as I did always imagine it to be pre-tty crazy beforehand. Her only saving grace was that it was a Monday night after all. And not like a bingo hall or anything. Alas she had none of the proper bingo lingo to spice things up. There was no knock at the door (B4!). I’m still waiting for one fat lady (8!). What happened to the candy store or down on the floor?! There was none. Instead, just killing any buzz that the initial thought of playing bingo and a pitcher might have brought. Boring you to death. Kind of like this story. The end.

A mighty song from a mighty movie. And it is mighty to wake up to the sun everyday, to be true, to be true!

Eddie Vedder

Hard Sun – Eddie Vedder


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