Pa Ranoid they might call me, if my name was Pa, Paddy, Pat or Patrick. Thankfully, it is none of the above. But I am paranoid. And I’m in a hotel lobby. On my final morn in London. Waiting for a car to show up to take me to the airport. Wondering whether I should just eat all this paper? Or… Can’t see any other option really.
All has be quiet on the wonderful blogaruu. Head down. Editing on. So far, so mighty. Soon ye shall see and read and laugh and weep and dance and be merry!
Oh ’twill be a glorious day, to be true.
Besides that, I have kept my venturing out to a minimum. Bar some improv shindigs (mighty) and the odd Christmas shopping hunt (also quite mighty). Although, I did go out Saturday night. An odd occurrence: I was not DJigging. Blip in the system. Matrix messed up. Threw me for a loop. What to do? I know. I’ll just go to the bar where I was meant to be DJing, collect a cheque owed to me and have a pint or nine. Because people simply love going into where they work when they’ve the night off! Look-at-me-outside-of-work-hours, kind of thing. Clown. Continue Reading »
Not sure where newspapers get photos of me. An educated guess is that they pull them out of a bag of cats. Photos with both my eyes closed. One just after a soccer match, panting, sweating, looking with one wonky eye. The most recent one has me looking like Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman. Remember, he was a blind, feeble old man? Well, just like that except I also look like I’m sitting in a wheelchair. Don’t get my wrong, delighted with newspapers picking up on my current ranking of being rated #1 on the Amazon Humour charts. Obviously. Just a pity they don’t ask for a photo. Anything at all. Potentially, I’m better looking than that. No, no: Seriously. In the right light. With the right make-up. And the right amount of airbrushing. I’m fairly sure I can scrub up better than that. I swear. Ah stop… Continue Reading »
Blogaruu, she’s been a while! My bad for the delay. Quite busy with vital stuff. Such as realising that I might be a fairy (apparently fairies can only handle or feel one emotion at a time. I am a full on fairy. Call me Tinker). And speaking of menstrual cycles… So back in the day, whenever a girl complained to me about cramps, I would complain back about people who complain a lot. Until I realised I actually can empathise. I too get man periods. Once a month. Every month. Rent cramps kick in. So now, I feel their pain. Similarly, whenever a girl complained about the thought of giving birth, I would shrug my shoulders and mention never having to deal with the pain of getting a kick in the fuss-balls. Until for some reason I thought about it like this: Imagine a little person exiting through the back door of your gift shop. If you know what I mean. I don’t think guys can fathom anything leaving through the front door, what with us not having one and all. But the back door seems to make it imaginable. Imagine that pain. Ripping. Tearing. Uncooperative. Sweet. Holy. Jesus. Must be ridiculous. Even thinking of it now is making my sphincter scream and squirm. So now I kind of understand the terror girls must have. Even worse, imagine if after all that, the child was to turn out like someone like the person writing this? For all that pain?! Dose. Apologies, Mum. Continue Reading »
LA… Mighty. Halloween… Nuts. Throw in a few Irish… Big buckets of mighty funking nuts!!! If ever you were going to visit L-Hey to see how bizarre/mighty/dancing/full-on/ape-ish/funreal/savage it actually is… Halloween all the way! Last year had me stumped for words. Arrived back here from Ireland. Straight off the plane. Threw on a red top-hat. People thought I was a banshee. And by thought I mean told. L-Hey took my mind to an orgy. Tried to blow it up. Almost fully danced away with it. Came uncomfortably close to losing it over a forgotten pair of scissors. This year… More or less the exact same. Minus jet lag. Plus a scissors. Minus being ill-prepared. Plus a gaggle of visitors from home. Along with buddies from here. The Man. The sink. The whole lot! All gathering for the perfect storm. Imagine being on mushrooms. Now imagine you’re fighting Mike Tyson. On mushrooms. Fighting Mike. All going on in the Chocolate Factory. Seeing little green and orange men running around while your senses are being pummeled from all angles. Imagine all that if you can. So. Halloween here is kind of like that. But actually maybe even harder to describe… Continue Reading »