Free. Megan Fox. Music.

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The Night Out – Martin Solveig

Apparently. If you have Megan Fox in a headline, people will automatically click on it. Did it work? Nice insider trick for any copy writer out there! Speaking of inside information: You’d be surprised at how many people book me for DJ sets without ever hearing a mix I’ve done. No clue if I’m good or not. Amazing. Take Friday. Deep down the writing well. Late afternoon. Email: Hello fine sir. Got your contact details from another DJ. Want to play at this venue tonight? Emmm. New venue. In fact, probably Hollywood’s new hot spot. SBE group’s latest venture. (If you’ve ever watched The Hills, all those clubs are SBE.) Anyway. Decide. In. Or. Nay? Money wasn’t what one might expect. But. Foot in the door and all that. Cool. Dance on. I’m in. And just like that, you’re DJing at another Hollywood hot spot. Mighty. Ish…

Turns out the gig was a tad weird. Booked me from 7.30 to 11. Ended up going on until 12. Strange time to book a DJ. No one on after me. Odd. Still though. Foot. Door. All that gibber. One thing I’ve noticed about clubs and bars in Hollywood: They’re not really that much fun. You’d think they might be. In fact, if you’re in some other part of the world looking at all photos on some site, they make them look like fun. However. I know the truth. On the surface, they look great. Unreal decor. Everyone looks good. Supermodels. Everyone.¬†Clientele. Bar staff. People who run the show. Maybe not so much the DJ at times. But everyone else, amazing! Problem is, people are too busy looking good. Working hard to look the part. Nobody actually really smiles or laughs too much. Afraid if they let loose and relax, crack a genuine smile, some camera phone might flash. Catch their wrong side. Dodgy photo. Double chin. All over some website the next day. Shock. Horror. Noooo! Why did I smile at that joke!?! Should’ve worked harder!

One last thing you might want to know. Strolling through Hollywood afterwards, I was reminded how big a ghetto it is. Unreal. All sorts of dodgy folk. Eye-balling. What’s in your bag, maaan? Ehh. Air. Oh Jesus. Nice shoes, maaan, what size are they? Oh Jesus God. T-aax-iiii! Take me back to WeHo. Pronto. Cheers boss!

Rise Of The Randumb Ape!

Besides DJigging, not too much else has been going on. Besides being down the writing well. Yoga (Savage!). And. Procrastinating. Obviously. But writing has been going well, to be true. Just forgot how long it takes to write a book. On the upside, she shall be mighty! On the upper east side, Randumb is now currently #44 on the Amazon Humor charts! Oh Betsy. Meanwhile. On the upper west side, I also changed the name of the book this week. And. She. Is. Mightier! Pumped!!!

On that note. Time to go back down the well. Before I do. Here’s a music mix. Think it might be my first ever. Recorded last week at the Sky Bar pool party. Live! Wow. I was alive when I recorded this. Amazing. Seeing as a fine chap paid me some dollar bills for it, felt it was only fair to share. Ignore the first few muddled mixes. As you’ll see, booze and quality of mixing might have a correlation. Say nothing about one part that skips either.

Actually. I need to shush. Remember when you were young. And you drew a picture at art class. Or at scouts. Can’t remember which. And just before you were about to show it around to everyone, you’d preface it by saying ‘Ahh, it’s crap. Only did it quickly. Crap. Don’t even bother looking at it. No, seriously. Crap. Pure crap. I hate myself. Time to self¬†flagellate. Crap. Well if you must look at it, but I did warn you. I just won a prize? BUT IT’S CRAP, YOU IDIOT!?!!???!?!’ Even though you thought it was actually good. Pretty sure I’m doing that now. So. Hush. Shh. Megan. Fox. Music. Mix. Dance. On…

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