The Ultimate Randumb Experience!

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I Can’t Go For That (Member’s Only Remix) – Halls & Oates


Earlier today I saw an offer from an author on Twitter. Buy my book in bulk. Get an experience in return. Buy 75 books: Get a personalised thank you video. Buy 350 books: Have a one hour chat with me on Skype. That kind of thing. Book whuring full on. Honestly I found it pre-tty bizarre. I’m happy when someone buys one copy of Randumb. Who would buy in bulk like that? Was this not just a way to buy your way into the Amazon or New York Times Bestseller charts?! Why did it reek of used car salesman techniques?! Focus. What am I having for lunch!?

Anyways. Apparently. It works. People like to do this kind of thing. Amazing. I know. The author in question (Gary Vaynerchuk) told me he got 100′s of people doing it for his first book. No way… Yes way. Interesting. Got me thinking. Perhaps it’s time for an ultimate Randumb experience. You buy my mighty book. In return. Personally touched. By. Me. Wuu! Duu? So. Here are the mighty experiences I and my team of I have come up with. Please form an orderly queue. Touch on! Continue Reading »

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Dirty Old Hunt

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Few times I’ve swung the other way. Recently, however, all women. Personal preference. Lifestyle choice. Things change though. Pressured back into it. Necessity. Crept up on me. Otherwise. Could end up on the streets. Wandering. Homeless. Bum. Bite the bullet. Trawled. Creeped. Pounded. Knocked. Grilled. Interrogated. Stripped bare. Hollow. At least I found somewhere to live after all that. Go on the hunt for a new place to live! Get your mind out of the gutter! Continue Reading »

Simply Don’t. Probably Wont.

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Over the past few days I have realised that there is a bucket load of things I don’t quite understand. And probably wont. Ever. Perhaps better off not. Such as, wearing jeans in the gym. Not to the gym. But actually in the gym. Working out. On a thread mill. Going all out. Hell for leather. Also wearing what can also only be described as a sports bra. Or else a very, very, very small and tight belly top kind of piece of clothing. I didn’t get it. And I never will. Particularly as the person in question was a guy. Bizarre enough to say the least. Not a fan of using a thread mill as it was. This incident ensured that I won’t be trying them out again too soon. Although, being honest, even if it was a girl, a good-looking girl to up the ante even more, I still wouldn’t get the wearing jeans in a gym part. Continue Reading »

Big Bag Of Nuts Please

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Mr Nut

Nuts. Random. Surreal. I knew L.A was all of the above. I knew this as I arrived on Saturday. I did not know that I would see a new level so soon. Kind of after blowing my mind. Only on the flight over did it sink in that I was finally going back. Realisation. Long term visa. Happy days. Probably be a bit weird to be back though after being home for a good bit. I was hoping that making the quick call to arrive back for Halloween would be a good idea. Perfect event for book purposes and all that. Although the possibility of going to the Playboy Mansion is appealing anyways, book or no book. My expectations of how events might transpire were way off. Way, way, waaaay off. The past three days have taken things up a notch. Don’t think I was ready for it. Maybe if I was settled in and had a few things organised it might be different. As it is though, fairly random. Contrasting it with Ireland. Even more so if I end getting on a private jet to Antigua today. Maybe my hangover is making me think it’s all a bit more bizarre than it actually is. Continue Reading »

You’re An 8?

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Restroom

Today, something occurred that left me bemused, dumb-founded, speechless, flabbergasted, lost for words. All of those things. In one quick little burst. No way. No funking way. You’re joking me? Are you serious?! One of those moments. Before I tell you what it was, a quick story first…

One night a couple of years back, myself and a few buddies stumbled out of a bar in Santa Cruz, on our way to a nightclub. En route, we saw an Emericano chap, whom we knew, standing right at corner of the street we were walking along. They have a fairly rigid grid system over there as far as street structure, so it was a proper corner. Not a bendy, in out and around kind of one you might have here. Anyways, he was just leaning up against the corner of the building, one foot resting against the wall, minding his own business. We stopped for a quick chat, and as two of my buddies were chatting to him, I noticed that, for some reason, his right hand was going around the corner of the building. I edged my way over, subtly, to see where it was going. Attached to his hand, was a Continue Reading »

Am I?

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Hypothetically speaking, if people kept coming up to you, trying to give you letters, thinking you were a postman, would you at some point, question if you were actually a postman? No. How about if when you were out during the day, and people kept giving you their change, as they thought you were homeless. Would you think, am I homeless, do I look like I am, or what? Maybe. Ok, if people kept coming up to you, speaking Polish, thinking you were from Poland, would you ask yourself, do I look Polish or what is it? You would. Perhaps a better example might be if different girls kept saying to you, how they really must set you up with their friend, and then that friend turns out to be a guy. And you’re not gay. Would you question what was going on then? I think so.

On a similar note, one which is more applicable to me, is the way I manage to end up getting chatted up in gyms, of various types, in various places, by various dudes. The gym I am going to at the moment is a basic, no frills, grand, does what you want it to do, kind of gym. I don’t think the gym has anything to do with me being chatted up. Perhaps it could be related to me wearing bicycle shorts, tight pink t-shirt, and walking around in a little tea-cup hand sticking out type manner. I don’t know, perhaps.

On appearances alone, I would not have thought this dude was gay. In fact, he might not be at all. However, if a guy comes up to you in the gym, unknown, starts asking you weird questions, then for your number, I have realized this means he probably, definitely, actually, is gay. I had seen him a few times in the gym, and did notice that he nodded and saluted me every time. I just presumed he was being friendly. By my logic, when I nodded, saluted, and sheepishly smiled back, he probably presumed I was gay.

Started off, by coming over and asking if he could listen to the song that was playing on my iPod. Completely random, bizarre, had to get him to repeat his question just to make sure. Pretty strange, good opening line I suppose. Ok, here’s an ear, this is weird, what’s going on. Next, would I mind if he hooked it up to the sound system, so he could listen to it as well while he worked out. Ok, bit strange but at least you like the music, work away. Then, he asked if I was a DJ. I suppose, why so? “You’re just the perfect man for me, the guy I’ve been looking for” was he response, then left it at that, as he did something on a machine next to me.

At this stage, I got back to yelping on a different apparatus, hoping that that was the end of the weirdness. However, he came back to tell me why I was the perfect man for him. He wanted me to write a song for him, as I was a DJ? Not too sure you know what a DJ is, I don’t actually write songs or sing them myself. Ok, no problem, I could just write him lyrics instead, to a song he has in his head. What the funk, emm, pardon? Not to be deterred by my inability to grasp any of what he was saying, he decided it would be best, if I instead actually tried to write or find music, that would accompany his lyrics. Happily, he then sang me a few lines of a song, in Polish, I think. I scanned the room for any cameras as part of a wind-up show, but it seemed to be legit.

At this stage, I told him I was not, in fact, the perfect man for him, so I better get back to whatever I was trying to work-out on. Unfortunately, this was a squat machine. Seeing as we were now buddies, to him it seemed, he stood next to me while I was doing a few reps. Which was just weird, him standing next to me, looking at me in the mirror, as I went up and down, freaked out looking back at him. Although, not as weird as his offer to help me, he could support me at the waist, so I could go down even lower with the squat, get a real burn. Thankfully, he didn’t react too badly to me turning down his kind offer, and actually went to leave.

Not before he asked me for my number though, to talk to me more about the song he had in mind. Or just to meet up. Not sure how really, but my number eluded me at this stage. So, instead, obviously, I gave him an email he could contact me at… JimGym@hotmail.com. Or was it GymJim@gmail.com? Either way, I told him to try them both, and I’d be in touch. Super, gave me a wink, and he left. The whole thing was bizarre. Maybe he’s not gay at all. Maybe just a complete nut. Or, maybe, it’s just me? Who knows.

When I got home, I was half worried that he might have slipped me something in my water. For whatever reason, inside my stomach felt like two wild, deranged roosters were having a fight to the bitter end. The pain was immense, and out of nowhere. Bloated, cramps, nausea, irritable, annoying even myself, I took tablets from my medicine cabinet which had those exact symptoms on them. Turns out, that they were period pain tablets. Maybe, the question should be, am I a woman? Especially seeing as they worked. A treat in fact. My body rejected the tablets, made me puke them and the roosters up, and I was feeling better in no time. And now, I must wrap up, so I can go off and write the music to accompany his Polish lyrics. Never know, it could be my big break!

Song of this damp, dreary, Irish summer day…

Sunshine

Sunshine – John Talabot