Here be an article I wrote that was in the Examiner last week. Front page too. Wuu.
Ways to Go – Grouplove
Imagine you are a fish, swimming in an ocean filled to the brim with other fish who are a lot like you but better in many ways. And instead of not wanting to be caught, you, the fish, are desperate to be reeled in by the fisherman. “Cast me, cast me!” you plead with your eyes as the fisherman toys with you in his net. “To keep and cast or to be thrown back in the ocean with all the other duds?” the fisherman asks himself as he examines you up and down like a piece of meat. Imagine all that – Welcome to the wonderful world of Hollywood auditions! Continue Reading »
So I attended my first cult meeting the other night. As you do. They’re called The Landmark Education. Or The Landmark Forum. Something like that. Not sure. When I Googled their name one of the first links was “We are not a cult!” So they’re definitely culty. An actress/model girl I know invited me along to an induction meeting/graduation class they were having. Not sure if she thought I was a sucker or which. I knew her from shooting some RanDumb stuff recently. Told me about these great meetings she was going to, changing her life, enriching her world, making every day more positive than the next. Maybe she thought I needed some hope. Either way I weighed up my options:
1. Sit on the couch, drinking tea and watching Frasier for the night.
Winning Streak. Back in the day this was the main TV game show in Ireland. Might still be. Contestants would go on and spin a wheel or guess something and win money. The easy part was winning. The hard part was getting on. I think you had to buy a scratch card and get three star icons. This then meant you could send the scratch card in where it was put in a drum and each week on the show the name of three lucky contestants would be drawn. Lot of hoops. But. If you ever made it on, you were going to win something. A brand new Opel car! Ohhh. Two thousand euro! Wow. A luxurious holiday away for two! Dear Jesus. I think one extra lucky person at the end got a chance to ‘Spin the Wheel’ where the top prize was 500,000 euro. Something like that.
The wheel was basically a vertical roulette table with different sections indicating different prize amounts. A ping pong ball would be dropped in at the bottom and the extra lucky person would spin the wheel. The nation would then watch the ball dart around the wheel, bouncing along until it slowly came to a stop. Wherever the ball landed, that was your prize. Usually it would hop between 250,000 and 2,000 on the wheel, so you’d get the old “Is she going to win the big prize, is she, she is, she just won-” Ball hops one more time – “2,000 euro”. Ohhh, so close. The softly spoken presenter, who might have previously been a priest, would then say “Unlucky Mary but at least you got something. Aren’t you happy?” “I am” Mary would reply as she waves goodbye at the camera, her family in the audience hold up their banners and flags saying ‘GOOD GIRL MARY!’ ‘UP TYRONE!’ ‘COME ON THE PARISH!’
Merry Christmas RanDummies and mighty blogaruu readers! Hope you are still getting your turkey sweats on. While you do, why not enjoy this piece which I wrote for an Irish paper recently. Pants off. Trifle. On!
A Hollywood Christmess Story
Is that Slash? Hmm. Is he looking at me? Hmm. Not sure. Is it him? Is he real? Am I drunk? What’s going on? Hmm. I’m going back for a kip.
Next morn. Stephen’s Day. Boxing Day? Not sure what they call it here in L.A. Eyes open. I’m on a couch at Robbie Williams’ house. Awake. Alone. Alive. Stiff back. Slept awkwardly. No sign of Slash. No sign of anyone. All left. Or upstairs. Sleeping. Sensible folk. Unlike me and my dry mouth. Tastes like glue. And so this is Christmas. Continue Reading »
Running Up That Hill (Louis La Roche Remix) – Kate Bush
Some things in L.A appear will never change. Not unless I do, anyway. Such as, people calling me by the wrong name over and over. Ever growing list at this stage. The usuals still apply. Merrick. Eric. Omar. Moved on a lot to Merk. Murk. Maaaaarrrk. Sometimes when I say my full name I get mistaken for a Mexican guy named Marquez. And then at one point someone working at Coffee Bean thought my name was America. Combination of being asked a question by two people at the same time: ‘Your name… Merrick?’ ’So a large coffee?’ Eh, Mark – Yeah… ‘Coffee for America!’ Although another time I asked for coffee recently I got the reply: ‘Cathy? I’m not too sure. Let me check – Hey guys, does a Cathy work here? Sorry man, no Cathy.’
So that was fun.
Considering all of the name confusion that has already occurred due to my accent and mumbles (along with everyone in L.A having lazy ears, tut), I was still a bit surprised about my name morphing earlier on today: Continue Reading »