Tropical Hayes!

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For reasons unknown, all names shall be culled from this blogaruu. Except for mine. I’m going full on¬†narcissistic. Tropical Hayes all the way!

So it’s the day after Halloween. Actually, the night. Limo pulls up outside my abode. It’s time. Put on my private jet pants. Grab my bag. Scuttle out. Hop in. High fives. Hello’s it going. And we’re on our way. Bob Hope airport. Here we dumb. Get lost en route. Find it again. Arrive. Punch in a code. Drive through a gate. Get out of the car. Look at our jet. Say hi to the pilot. And just walk on. The mightiest way to travel. No lines. No queues. No security. In. On. Out. Mighty!

Must say, this jet was the best I’ve been on. Leather here. Plush there. King size bed in the back. Pardon? What do you mean? A bed? In the back? Yes. A big old bed in the back. Mile-high-ty! We sit down. Hostess brings us a round of champagne. When in a Rome… Cheers! Wheels start rolling. You’re getting comfortable. And then suddenly you’re up, up and wahey! Way faster than a regular jet. Almost goes up like an elevator. Shwooop. Air born again. New beginning. On our way to an island in the Caribbean. Pants off. Caribb on! Continue Reading »

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Bang. Bang. Ba. Ng.

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Roxanne – Strange Talk


Birthday. Birthmonth. Bert on! Beach. Party. Celebration. Malibu. Malibooze. Maliboobs! Paradise. Cove. Kaw. Bird. Shrimp. Wine. Cocktails. Lounge chairs. Hi life. Hello living. Drink. Glass. My. Hand. Gulp. Pause. Laugh. Another drin- Plop. Huh? Seagull. Kaw. Kaw. KAAWW! Flying. Attacking. Dropping. Dumping. Plopping. Into. Glass. Hand. Mine. Dunk. Lucky? Me!

So that was a fun birthday. Speaking of… Continue Reading »

I’m A Little Teapot…

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Sweet Disposition (Joe Maz Remix) – Temper Trap


In case you were wondering, not every day in L-Hey is nuts. Today was pretty normal. Shopped. Washed. Gymed. Chilled. Mostly recovered. Sunday was pretty mighty. Man cures. Just the one. Happy hour. Oh Jesus. Pub crawl. Impromptu. Riding mechanical maniac bulls. Singing the booze. Bumping into randomers. Bringing along stragglers. Ploughing on. Finishing it all off with a night cap and deep gibberish conversations in a car park at half two in the morning. Savage day. But kind of normal, in a way. Could happen anywhere. Unlike, say, Saturday. Funk me pink. Uniquely L-Hey day. Random. Dumb. Full on fun!

Up at 7 bells for a photo shoot. Random. 3 hours sleep due to DJigging. Dumb. Not too sure what the shoot’s for. Need a few professional photos to add to my¬† portfolio of one headshot. So I’m told. So I’m in. Cover of Women’s Weekly all the way! Shoot was on in Santa Monica. Pier. Beach. Lovely. Arrive. Cloudy. Grey skies. Looks like it might rain. Waves crashing in. Bed calling. Start throwing it out there that maybe we should reschedule. Wait for better light. Sheen from the sea is very bright. Spouting out complete gibber. Vain attempts to get me back to bed. No joy. Heere now, let’s see what we can do. Cue teapot. Continue Reading »