Hung Like A Horse!

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Thrift Shop – Macklemore & Ryan Lewis

It’s a Sunday night. You’re sick of talking to banterless clowns in dead bars. So you go to a liquor store. And end up down an alley. Trying to have a laugh with some homeless guy. Who’s trying to take a drink from your brown paper bag. Life. Going. Well. Wake up the next day. Look in the mirror. Shake your head. Slap your soul. Say no more. Time to cop on.

Now obviously none of that actually happened. Ahem. However. Ever since that night, I haven’t boozed a drop. Not a sniff. Not a touch. Not a smell. Nothing more. Four weeks and counting. Booze off. Work. On.

Surprisingly, far easier than I anticipated. Thought it might be tough going dealing with clowns while DJing but stick a Red Bull in the system and you’re as dancing as ever. Obviously numerous advantages to this non-boozing too. Such as, the lack of hangovers. Sundays have taken on a whole new meaning, a whole new feeling. Even the lack of mysterious grogginess felt after you’ve only had one or two drinks the night before – Gone. Now refreshed. Clear headed. Raring to go. Thank funk too. No time to be hungover.

Coinciding with a lack of booze, has been an immense amount of work. From an intense trip down the well to get a show bible written, to starting an edit of book three, to planning trips to New York, the Caribbean and London, to setting up meetings in various places, to booking stand up shows here there and everywhere, to meeting producers, to greeting directors, to lining up actors, to gibbering on, to shooting a music video, to traveling all over for DJ jigs, to doing double shifts, to them blurring into quadruple ones, to getting a haircut, to brushing my teeth, to washing my socks, to writing this blogaruu, it has been pretty full on. Look. A hair was cut… Continue Reading »

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Wingless Wonder

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My ability to blogaruu is currently being hampered by other projects. And perhaps a 3-day hangover to boot. Ugh boots off. Projects on! Good few stories building too. Laziness is a divil. Go on the VIP at the Lakers! She shall come. For now. Pod on, pod on, pod on pod on pod on pod on pod ooooon, p-p-p-pod on…

Hearing Haze: Episode 6 – Wingless Wonder!
(Right click to download! iPod on!)

Battered. Goats. Bruised. Monkeys.

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Sunday nights. Fun times. Numerous reasons. Need to postpone one thing in particular for as long as I can. Gibber on. Sunday nights. Time to look over the weekly to-do list. Usual. See what I managed to get done. Tick. What I did not do. Tut. Pity. X. Then write in random pointless stuff not on the list. But that I did throughout the week. Even things out. All aboot balance. All aboot fooling. For the past hour I’ve been trying to get one final thing ticked off before I go to sleep. Write an article for an Irish paper. Unfortunately. My brain has been distracted. Highly so. Waiting patiently. Waiting for them to show up. Bringing it with them. Distracting. As is. This imaginary goat. The one I can’t stop thinking about. Continue Reading »

Gazing With Boars

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Without really realising it, it went from being Friday, to being Tuesday. You could say the past few days have been a bit of a daze. You could. But not really true. More that I’ve just been in a daze. For the past few days. I know why too. But I’ll get back to that. Friday night. Decided. Needed to go get drunk. My brain was milling and mulling over the most minutiae of details, for a draft re-write of sorts. Needed a break. Went to a new club opened in WeHo. Hot place. Supposedly. Haute. Continue Reading »

Owen’s Bad. You’re Worse.

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Herbert The Pervert

Now that I have detoxed from all the booze from the first three days, I can see the light again. About time. Ditched my enemy. Out to sabotage me. Doing his best to freak me out. Good old Owen. He did well yesterday. If Saturday to Tuesday were the best cluster of days I’ve had in L.A that I can remember, yesterday was a low point. With only one person to blame. I started looking up flights at one stage. Did not want to be here. Not on a plane either though. Didn’t really want to be anywhere. Went looking for a hole to hide in. Failed. Instead, I just did well freaking myself out. Pointlessly. I blame the gin. Continue Reading »

Go Away!

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ApeDrunk packing is not a great idea. If you do ever try it while under the influence, you might end up with two odd runners, a Playstation, a tie, pair of jeans and two shirts. Thankfully, that flight to Germany was cancelled due to fog, so I ended up having a second attempt at that packing fiasco. Not a great idea to pack while drunk. However, the one upside of drunk packing is that it barely takes a minute. Hungover packing, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. If you’re an ape like myself. Continue Reading »

Bought A Bucket, Lost A Phone, Brought Back From The Edge…

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This past weekend has been eventful to say the least. This post has nothing at all to do with acting, purely the randomness of LA. If I was writing about 5 hours ago I would say it has been pretty horrific. However, now that my hangover is almost gone it doesn’t seem as bad.. Ill start first with me buying a bucket.

Ever since I arrived back in Emerica I’ve been on Craigslist hunting for a cheap bargain car. I was going to buy one in San Francisco and drive down to LA  then. However, I was told a cheap as funk car would have bob hope of making it that distance. Anyways, get down here, worst city in the world for no car, check out a few on Craigslist. All dodgy to say the least. Ill write more on Craigslist some other time. So, saw this ad on Craigslist…http://losangeles.craigslist.org/wst/cto/1053632122.html. Cheap as funk, runs, pick-up trucks look cool, what could be wrong for that price. The guy selling the truck said he’d drive up to me if I would drive him back, no problem, sure.

So he arrives up on Saturday about 11. I go outside my door to see that the Mexican painters are blocking the parking entrance again. No, no, that was actually my potential bucket. I knew from the photos it wasn’t the prettiest of buckets, and for some reason it is very photogenic, but in the daylight it is pretty, pretty, pretty ugly. It is a lovely shades of several whites. The paint job was hand painted, I could literally see the brush strokes covering over stuff. So the guy gets out of the truck when he sees me and starts to waddle over to me. I immediately thought it was the oddest walk Ive ever seen and forgot about the bucket. So he introduces himself, small talk on, whatever. If you want a mental image of what he looks like think the pilot dude in Lost.

He then starts to tell me absolutely everything about the truck. Everything. Little does he know that I know absolutely nothing about the inside or mechanics of any motorized vehicle. Nothing whatsoever. I am a fan of Top Gear and all but mostly for the humour. I feel like a mechanic when I manage to fill up the water for wind wipers without doing damage. So he starts to tell me about fuses, sparks, carburetors(needed spell check for that, ha), starters, belts, tubes, pistons, horses, cows(seriously, he told me he moved a cow for someone once with the truck), bangs and pops. Going on and on. All the time I was just thinking, why was he waddling when he got out of the truck, it was weird. So I interrupt after a lengthy period of him showing me the engine, say will we take it for a drive. Inside is even funnier, dash is bust up, the driver’s door doesn’t always open so you must open the window to open it or get in passenger’s side. It was also nice of him to clean it a bit before showing me. There’s peanut butter jars on the floor, piles of Coke bottles, a few brushes in the back, a weird looking cooler and numerous other delightful items. Straight away I noticed the smell, it was mank. Thankfully that turned out to be his feet and not the truck. There was also no A/C, which is magnificent in LA. So we go for a drive around my neighborhood, get looks from the dudes walking their poodles, waves from the Mexicans working, truck runs fine, it drives.

We pull up outside my house again. There is no way I am buying the truck even though I kind of told the guy on the phone if he drove up and it went well I would. He seems to have thought it went swimmingly well. I make up some spoof that I forgot my phone inside, Ill be back out in two minutes. So I ring my cousin and my friend, ask their opinion if I should buy a truck they have never seen for $500. I know its cheap and not much but when you’re paying 1200 bones the same day for rent and still no joy with a job, it seems more. Anyways, I wanted them both to say dont do it but both say go for it. I decide then I definitely wont so. I think the fact that I was seeing the truck alongside all the Porsches, BMWs and Escalades around my house didn’t help matters. I go back out to the guy to break the bad news. He is just sitting on the back of the truck, happy as larry. I tell him its not for me, I need the A/C, from Ireland, we only have rain and leprechauns there, the joke does not go down well. Neither does the fact I dont want to buy it. He is almost in tears. He had just told a guy that morning it was sold, now he’d have to hope he didnt buy something else. Then he gets really emotional, the reason he is selling is because he must get some hip operation and wont be able to get back into the truck as its too high off the ground. He also couldn’t work with his hip so needed the money. I felt bad thinking he waddled then. His sob story/haggling skills worked. I tell him I really need the A/C but Id give him $300 for it. We agree on $400. I immediately regret it. Then he tells me where he lives, about an hour away. The job. Then I really, really regret it. Here’s the bucket…

The BucketThe Love Truck

So we drive out to his house. All the way he talks and talks, while I give him a few yeah, yeahs, nods of the head and struggle to cope with no A/C stuck in traffic. Its a killer. Somewhere I hear the talk of how he’s a caddy. I spiel him my bit about me caddying for years, throw in a bit of spoof about caddying for Tiger Woods, Michael Douglas etc. He’s loving all this, tells me he’d hook me up with the starter, get me a job, happy days, the truck could pay its way already. He then almost crashes with excitement when I tell him my handicap is 7(spoof). Gets onto the starter on the phone to tell him he’s a great Irish caddy for him. The starter tells him to give me his number and I’ll be in after meeting him. I’m pumped, the Big Lebowski-esque dude with the truck has hooked me up. He gives me the digits, log them in my phone. Now we’re great friends, he’s hungry, I’m hungry, the truck needs oil, we’ll go to the shop on the way and get food and oil. I end up spending a few hours with him, munching a horrible sandwich from some place he highly recommended, while he tells me about these chicks he almost got before, it was a great story. So we go to his house, do the paper work, hand over the cash, I have his number if any problems, I have the starter’s number for the job, I’m sorted. Im on my own in this beast on the freeway on the way home, pumped. My windows are down, the radio, which is stuck on one station I think, is pumping out some Akon song out of my one working speaker, the truck seems to run, who cares if its horrific looking. I had a great day with the Dude. No parking by my house when I get back so parked a good 25 minute walk away, LA parking is pretty shocking I found out but I wouldn’t let that ruin my day.

So that night I decide to go out to celebrate. Send around a few texts to my vast network of friends here, about 10 texts Id say, ha. Get an offer to go to that club that I was in where I ended up at that party in the hills, I’m in like flynn. So pre-boozing on, the more drink I have the better I feel about the truck. At least no more walking. I can now call out to people. No more $100 on taxis. Wuu duu. 

I get a cab to the club and on the way I forgot I never did my trick to get on the guestlist, balls. Ill use the old bluffy mac technique. So, spot a dude with a clipboard, he wants to know where Im from with the accent, do I follow Rangers or Celtic, turn up the Irishness a notch, backfires, his buddy is Demarcus Beasley so cant let me in now kind of small talk, joke here, joke there, sound guy and I finally get in. Horse us over your number there boss and he says he’ll hook me up from now on if I support Rangers, he worked a few different clubs, happy days. The night is a drunken blur from there on in. I have one photo in my camera of this Swedish dude who was dressed even more over the top than Boy George, feathers in the hair, weird as funk, unreal on the harmonica while I sang freestyle along, and was friends with a few tasty Swedish girls. I ended up at a party deep in the slums of the Hollywood this time, right on Hollywood Blvd but dodgy enough. I had to leave as well early as I was goosed drunk. 

So woke up this morning with the immediate feeling of…”Balls, somethings wrong”. Did the phone, wallet, passport check, no phone. Its early too so Im still half drunk and cant function. Gutted about my phone. I remembered using it in the cab on the way home so must have left it thrown on the seat. It was an absolutely useless phone, no reception in my house except one corner of one room but it had all my Emericano numbers. Including the numbers of the guy who was getting me the caddy job, the guy who sold me the bucket, the bouncer dude who said he’d sort me out getting in places, and one of Boy George’s tasty Swedish friends. I was gutted, stumbling around my room looking for it, barely able to open my eyes still goosed, see a note that the tv and internet is out as the bill wasn’t paid on time. Some funking great way to start the day. No phone, no internet to find where was near to buy a new one and no tv to cure my half drunk state. It was then I realised I had to move my truck closer to my house from where I parked it the night before or it might be towed. 

So walked to the truck, no matter what the weather was like I was going to be annoyed, it was roasting beyond belief, parched and pissed off by the time I get to the truck. The key almost snaps when I forget the door doesn’t open sometimes(always) from the driver’s side. Get in, like a sweat box, looks even worse than it did yesterday. So, I start her up, nada. Turn the key again, nothing. It doesn’t even really annoy me. Im still thinking about my phone too much. It was as if I knew it was horrific anyways so it not starting put my mind at ease. I tried again and it kicked into life, feebly. So I drive down the street to do a u-turn, thankfully on not the busiest road I live by but still a lot of cars. As I turn the bucket cuts out. Fully. And its a big bucket, so Im blocking my side of the road and a good bit of the other side. Cars are waiting for me. It starts again, I drive another foot as fast as I can and it cuts out again. So now Im blocking all the road somehow. Cars are building up, people shouting, Im shouting back saying its not my truck, its my friend’s, Im only moving it for him! My head is on the steering wheel, really thinking about my phone and not caring about the truck, the lack of A/C has begun to get at me again and is making my hangover even more enjoyable. I was half thinking of getting out and leaving it. Finally it starts and I tear down the road, park it up, get out, grab my laptop and go to the nearest coffee shop with wireless internet. Straight onto Craigslist, put up an ad for a great pick-up truck for sale, only $800, great deal!

I Google phone shops near me too and find one close by. There’s no way Im risking driving the bucket again so walk to the phone shop. Its down the street from me, right in the middle of ‘boys’ town as its called. So Im walking and walking, seems to be way longer than the 14 minutes Google Maps said it’d take. I cant check how long its been either as I usually use the clock on my phone to check the time. So I just keep on walking, not paying much attention, noticing how most gay guys have way better posture than usual, its weird, ha, and still no sign of the phone shop. So I give up, cross the road to get another coffee for the way back and walk home. Its then when I have walked close to my street that I come across the phone shop Im looking for. I was on the wrong side of the road all along, ape. I go in, ask for their cheapest phone and the guy in the store tells me he has just sold the last prepaid phone they had in stock that day, more back in Wednesday. I’ve given up at this stage, has to be a joke, most annoying day I’ve had in a while.

So I get home and remember that I was asked to play a soccer match at 7 downtown in LA somewhere. I had agreed to go the day before, seeing as I had the truck and could get there. I didn’t have the guy’s number anymore to ring and cancel and wanted to play again with them so decided to take the plunge and give the bucket one last go. My neighbor gave me her wireless password so I was back online, my day was turning around, found the directions, headed off with my bucket.

It seems the Bucket is a night person like myself. There was some difference. After only 2 attempts it started and then roared its way through LA! It was a beast on the road, again Akon pumping out my one speaker(they seem to have 3 songs on loop, Akon, T.I & Rihanna and some other song that sounds the exact same). It was on the drive that I remembered the guy had given me the name of the golf club where he caddied, I could just show up and ask for the starter! The night was beating down the disastrous day! I have seen more of LA in that one round trip to the pitch as well than the whole rest of the 5 weeks I’ve been here. The Bucket was growing on me.

So, I get to the pitch, and its in the middle of skyscrapers and the heart of downtown, coolest surroundings ever, its class. The team is a mix of Americans, few English guys and a Eastern European here and there. So bit of small talk before the match getting introduced to the players, one guy shouts over “Hey Irish, I hear you were a drunk f**ker last night”. I thought he was just using the generic all Irish get drunk card so gave him a nod and agreed. He then tells me his buddy works the door of the club I was in…the bouncer dude who gave me his number and said he would hook me up! Highly, highly random but he is next to him tying his boots, laughs at me and fills in a few blanks for me. It was weird in a city so big to think of the possibility that the same guy would be in the random soccer team that I end up playing for, but LA is nuts so thought nothing of it. Play the game and even though Im hungover to funk and playing in boots 2 sizes too small for me, I play well. They’re happy out, the English guy in charge asks me if  I want to play 5-a-side with him and his buddies on Tuesday. I say sure no problem, where. Out in Beverly Hills, he’s living in his friend’s house and the friend had a pitch built in the back garden for them to play soccer. As you do. Im wondering what friend would do that, random enough. So he casually mentions he lives with Robbie Williams. Who? Oh, right, him. See you Tuesday. LA is random to say the least.

So the night was turning out to be better than the day. I walk back to the parking lot to see the Bucket, chilling. Starts right up first time this time around, just like the ad said it would! My windows are down driving home, still hot at night, T.I and Rihanna are strutting their stuff on the speaker,  I think its a Bose speaker, when these two girls pull up next to me in traffic. “Oh my god I love that song, what station is it on?” I make up some spoof 101.4 kgb all night long station I think. “Oh my god I love your truck too, so retro, is that the loooove truck?” I was going to say, no, its The Bucket, but the lights went green. These didn’t seem like the girls who could do sarcasm or know what it was, but either way I drove off loving the Love Truck. Thank funk it didnt cut out at the lights as I drove off! The Bucket by day, the Love Truck at night. 

An apt song for today would be Sunshine by Atmosphere. And a cool funking song is Aint No Other Way by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. I think I was trying to sing that last night while the Swedish dude did a jig on the harmonica.