Monthly Archives: April 2009

Who Needs Money Anyways? Actually, I Do.

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Slowly, but surely, I can feel the straw breaking. I am kind of getting weary of my stories being funny but ending in a dumb way. There is only so much one can take. How hard is it to do fairly straight forward daily tasks, such as find a job, buy a car, write a sitcom, win an Oscar, OR FIND A FUNKING JOB THAT ACTUALLY PAYS MONEY!!! If you are a chump like me, it seems, fairly funking impossible. 

From now on, I think I shall set up a blog for my roommate and document her daily life instead of my repetitively annoying one. Hers is far better. Today, for example, we kind of had similar days – we chilled, had some lunch, went shopping, and both of us found out we had a job tomorrow. However, there were a few minor differences. Just slightly.

Back to the start. Today I was going up to big gay Jim in the gym to find out if I had the DJ’ing job or not, yes or no, tell me once and for all, at least then the limbo would be over for yet another job. Up to the gym, big gay Jim is on the front desk, shrieks, gasps for air and covers his mouth with his hand when he sees me. “Oh my Gaaawd Omar, I am so, so, sooo sorry, I was meant to call you on Wednesday!” Too right you were, I have been having sleepless nights over the lack of calls, I knew you didn’t use me for that one demo! He was meant to have informed me on Wednesday that the operations manager gave the all clear, I was good to go, play my great music from 12-3 in the afternoons. I actually gave him a wuu huu and high five, go on the big gay Jim, no I don’t want a hug, you’ve gone too far again, era shur, why not, you got me a job, lets hug this b**ch out Jim!!!

Walking on air (not only did I become a struggling paid writer this week, I was now a struggling DJ!), Jim takes me to meet the staff, how’s it going lads, top of the morning girls, blah diddy blah. I am then shown the equipment and their set-up, spoof on, you can plug your mixer in here, your sound card goes there, your bits go here, and your things slots in here. Too far Jim, too far. Eh, do you have a cable that will connect my laptop to your big load of gadgets? No. Ok, I’ll go buy that now so.

Just before I leave, I ask Jim the schedule. Well, 12-3, how many days a week do you want to come in? How many??!!! I’ll do every day this week, I have a free schedule I told you. “Oh great Merrick, everyday would be wonderful, when do you want to start?” When? Tomorrow!! This is brilliant, I can pick and choose my days, I will see you then. Oh yeah, ha, almost forgot, what is the story with getting paid? “Paid? As in money? Oh we don’t pay our DJs, its good publicity for you, and free membership.” What. The. Funk. Are you joking me? Are you actually being serious with me? Publicity for what? Have you ever heard of subsistent living Jim? Do you know what the bread line is all about??!!! I don’t think I am getting you right here, no pay?? I started to get a bit dizzy and light headed at this stage when my brain can’t process this happening once again. “So, Eric, tomorrow at 12?” Ugghhh, pardon, where am I, what’s going on? Tomorrow at 12? Ehh, yup, I will see you then.

I walk out of the gym dazed and confused. What is going on, have I got the whole concept of working wrong in L.A? Does society have different rules here where only the rich get paid for very little work and those struggling to make ends meet are expected to work for free? I stumble into Starbucks across the way, needing a coffee to gilt me out of this bizarre mind boggling state. As I am ripping opening Splendas (ha) and pouring them into my coffee, then dumping the empty packs in the bin, I notice a girl laughing next to me. Obviously, at me. I had just ripped open a Splenda, poured it into the bin part, and put the empty pack in my coffee. 3 times. Funking ape. At least I got a new coffee. And the girl joined me while I was having my coffee. And she was impressed that I was a DJ who weirdly played in a gym (I left out the doing it for free part). And I got her number. At least I can do that right. Or so I thought.

My roommate picked me up from Starbucks so we could go shopping. She had to buy a pair of boots, I had to buy that lead I needed to hook my laptop up to their sound system (Not only was I not getting paid money to play, seeing as I needed a lead, it would cost me money to work there, chumpy mac). So I get into my roommate’s tank of a car, and she asks if I got the job. I did, but… she gives me a wuu huu, and tells me “I got a job too”. Wuu huu for you so as well, I actually start mine tomorrow, but the thing about the job I got is that I won’t… “No way, my job is tomorrow too, only a one day shoot, but still, we are both working tomorrow, thats great!” Yeah, but, the thing with my job is, eh, what’s your job first actually “I have a photo shoot for a magazine with Ryan Gosling, it should be fun!” That should be fun, almost as much fun as my job. Are you getting paid for yours? “Yeah, of course, so what were you saying about your job, the only thing was…?” The only thing was… the only thing was… what was I saying again, oh yeah, only thing was that I don’t get paid for my job. “What? Really? Another non-paying job? Why?” Not sure really, I actually have no idea what’s wrong with me. “Oh, eh, still though, at least it’s a job” Yeah, its the job being a chumpy mac.

Back to me thinking I could at least get a girl’s number, I hadn’t turned into a complete dumb ape yet. Oh, how I was wrong. Sent the girl a text, you should come by the gym tomorrow, check out the great European music I’ll be playing. Bring your dancing shoes, I’ll teach you an Irish jig, giddy up them steps. That kind of smooth crap. Just got a reply saying she would love to, what time. Not too bad, until I read past the first line… My boyfriend is from Europe too, he has been dying to hear some good music since he’s been here, he wants to come along with his friends, if thats cool?!!! Ahhh, of course it is, of course you have a boyfriend, of course, tell him bring all his friends. What time did you say? I am on the decks from 5 onwards, I got it wrong earlier, it’s not 12 to 3 like I said, actually on at 5, see you then!

I had better get some sleep. Must get up early, seeing as I’m on at 12 and all, ha. Here’s the song I shall be playing to myself all night to get me in the right frame of mood for tomorrow… Great DJ by The Tings Tings

If You Had To Do One, Eiffel Tower or Berlin Wall?

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Now that I had my first article published, it was time for me to retire. All the hard work had paid off, the graft and effort was worth it all, time now to reap the rewards. Which, I presume would just snowball in all day long. At least these were the reasons I am giving for doing bob all, all day. That, plus being tired and emotionally dejected after Tom Green side swiped me last night. I needed a day off from, eh, the hard work.

Yesterday I had made up a few demos and dropped them into all the other gyms I have been to while here, hoping that one might bite the bait and give me a job. Unfortunately I still had no call from big gay Jim so I shall have to go up tomorrow and find out for definite either way. Anyways, if you might remember, I had all the numbers of the gyms saved, so I could dodge them when they rang about trying to get me to sign up after the free week pass ran out. Earlier today I see get a call, one of the gym’s numbers pops up, I am in like flynn, I knew they’d love the demo (it is actually too good, if anyone wants it for the gym let me know).

“Hey Merrick, Chad here from Equinox, you called into us yesterday…” How’s it going Brad, I did indeed, did you like the demo? “I loved it, listened to it on the way home in my car, I was wondering if you might be interested in DJ’ing over the weekend?” Let me check my schedule, lucky you, seems I am free 24/7, count me in, what days/nights? “Well, its not for the gym, we actually don’t do that as our policy states, but DJ for a party in my friend’s house.” Ooook, how much will I be getting paid? (All he needs to offer is $50 or over and Ill do it for the 2 hours, ha, I am a cheap date) “Well, we would give you a couple of beers, I was hoping you’d do it for free?” For funk’s sake, for free? Another pro funking bono offer? Do I look charitable?! I am the one in need!!! “Yeah, we’d love your music at it, me and the guys would love a night of European dance music!” You and the guys? Once again, no girls? How surprising! Good duck to you Tad, anti bono and all, thanks anyways though.

Moving on, I have lined up some more acting classes to audit for free, but they aren’t until next week. I prefer to write at night, so I had the day to kill. I am going to veer slightly off the usual path of rambling and tell you about some of the stuff they are showing on t.v here! With my roommates in tow, the day was utilized to the full, watching the weirdest documentary you will ever see. It was funking nuts, seriously, highly interesting too, you have to watch it, “Married to the Eiffel Tower”. Its about women who are in love, and make love, to objects, such as crossbows, roller-coasters, church pews, the Eiffel Tower, and the Berlin Wall, amongst others. Don’t think its porn or anything, it is just strange and will blow your head when you watch it. Here’s a clip, one of the funniest parts is at 3.48 when one of the girls lets go while watching “porn”, it is mental! At least they seem happy. Almost.

If you can, try to watch all of it, I’m sure you can hunt it down on Youtube. On a funnier note, here is an ad for Hulu that is on t.v in Emerica, with Seth MacFarlane. If you want to see him do the different Family Guy voices, watch on!

This post has been a bit scattered and all over the place, tiredness is kicking in. I could tell you about the guy in the gym who has outdone me with the bicycle shorts, taken it up a notch, why bother with shorts at all, and just seems to wear a t shirt in there, but I wont, not now at least. As you can see, this day has been utilized well. After such a tough and exciting day, a great song to cap it all off… All My Friends by LCD Soundsystem

Funk Off Tom, This Is My House!!!

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I am gutted to be writing this post at this hour of the night. Once again, it would be brilliant, if only it had happened to a friend. It is a recurring theme at this stage. Today was a great day, funny as funk, very unfruitful, didn’t achieve much, but had to laugh at it. I’ll write about that tomorrow. Tonight was the main story. I was done. But, I understand why at least.

I decided to lift my no boozing ban at the 11th hour. Seeing as I got a call from a few guys I play soccer with to head out, along with the fact I had to celebrate my first paid article being published today (wuu huu! I am now officially a struggling writer, ha), I decided it would be rude not to.

As it was Wednesday, My House was the port of call, the scene where I made such good buddies with Ricky Bobby and Shwayze. I can have no qualms with the DJ dude about the website not materializing, seeing as he managed to skip me past a queue of about a hundred to get in. Once again, if only the girls in the queue knew how unimportant I actually was as I skipped on by. It would later work to my advantage.

So, I get in, the place is rocking, it actually is a savage venue, good music too, clientele are posing to the max everywhere you look but seeing as I wore a scarf there, who was I to complain. I stroll around, in my scarf, looking for the soccer heads. Find them, small talk, rar diddy rar, I notice a hot enough girl sitting on the edge of the couch next to me on her own. Me being so nice and all, go over to her to engage in a bit of conversation. She immediately loves the accent. Well, not really, I think she loves the fact that I am apparently speaking English but all it sounds like to her is “Hubbula hubbula, hubbula?”  All I said was “Howdy”. To and fro we go, me talking, her not understanding a word, oh my God, you are too funny. I had not attempted one joke at that stage so I presume she is laughing at me. At least she hadn’t Googled my name and left yet.

My hubbula’s have her in bits, she has to introduce me to her friend and the guy she’s talking to. How’s it going, hubbula, yeah, I am speaking English too, hubbula, I know that dude from somewhere. So I make some horrific joke about the other girl’s name, which none of them laugh at. However, they do laugh when I say “Oh Jesus” that they haven’t laughed. It is going well. Except the fact that there is a familiar smell lingering from the girls, sniff sniff, they smell Irish, sniff sniff, thats the one, fake tan. Anyways, the dude is the guy from the Fabulous 4 (I am later informed its the Fantastic 4). He suggests that we get the girls some drinks, sure bud, your round. Up to the bar we go, some small talk which he obviously cant understand. It is then that I notice that the smell of fake tan is worse now that Im standing next to him at the bar helping him with the drinks. Sniff sniff. The smell is off him. Oh Jesus.

We go back to the girls with the drinks, more banter, the girl gives me her number (means nothing here by the way, same as me giving a girl my 088 number) and we finish the drinks. The guy gives me a knowing nod, “Get the same round in again, this is going well”, one of those nods. I give him a nod back, same again girls, be right back. As I walk to the bar I cop on that the last round of 4 vodka Red Bulls he bought us cost about $50, including tip. Hmmm, $50, on my budget. I have $30 in my pocket. Hmmm. That girl has already given me her number and was starting to look bored at not understanding a word I said. Hmmm. What to do… Excuse me, just the one bottle of Bud Light please. I forgot to go back to them, ha.

Instead I go for a stroll around the club, noticing that the staff working there are ridiculously hot, they seem just to be wearing long shirts as their uniform. I stop one girl and ask her why she’s wearing no pants, and we’re off on the hubbula road again. The girl comments on how she saw me skip the queue, what do I do? One of those I know, but she was hot so I left her off. I told her the truth, I was out celebrating my first article being printed in the Echo, had she ever heard of it, it was a pretty big deal, ha. She laughed, either because she didn’t understand, or else, even worse, she did understand, which made her laugh even harder, at me. Either way she was sucked in, nice shirt, where are your pants, I’ll swap you mine if you like, hardy har. Any parties after the club, I’m finished work at two? Oh sweet Jesus, I do, up on Mulholland, my buddy’s buddy’s house, he has a few pools, we should do a bit of midnight swimming. 

It was at this point when the lights came on, the club was over. She said she had to go finish up, let me know the address, she’ll follow in 5 minutes. I ask for her number, she starts to slowly (why not fast!), s-l-o-w-l-y give me her digits. She is 5 numbers in when this guy dressed as a hobo next to us interrupts, taps her on the shoulder. She turns, we both look at him, the hobo is Tom Green. Balls. He says don’t bother with that party, he is having one at his friend’s place, it’ll be far better. Ok Tom, I was planning something else but I suppose a party with you will be okay still. Oh, it’s just her that’s invited. Oh. You pr**k. 

I’m not too worried though, I have faith in the girl still, she’s 5 digits in, too late to pull out now, obviously. She turns back around, and the face says it all. Eh, sorry, but that is Tom Green, it could be good for my career. Noooo, I was going to put you in my sitcom, noooo!!! Sorry, great meeting you though, you’re so funny. Noooo, I’m not funny, I can dress like a hobo too if you like, nooooo!!!! Did I tell you who owned the house?!! He won’t be there or anything, but still… Tom, you pr**k!!!!!

The night ends on a sour note. My buddy says he’ll drop me home if I like, cheers man, at least I don’t have to pay for a cab. As we walk to his car, we stroll past another car with the paparazzi swarming it. Look in, its good old Tom posing for a few pictures. No sign of the girl. Must have been following him in 5 minutes. 

At least this is a savage song to pick up anyone’s spirits and give you back some soul, pump it up, some song to drive through L.A to… Everyday People by Sly and The Family Stone

No Job. No Agent. Funk, Looks Like Pimp Time!

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Today was an off day in my relationship with L.A, we were having a bad hair day, so to speak. The whole no job affair is getting to me. Either that or being off the booze is kicking in more than I thought. I wonder if waking up daily knowing, once again, you have no job, is better or worse than having to wake up early and go to work at a job you dislike? Highly debatable really. This morning I learnt that the film festival which had asked me to update their website, was as I had suspected, intended to be done pro bono. Unfortunately for them, I am anti bono. Particularly in this current state anyways. I still had got no phone call back from Jim, in the gym, so the day did not start off on a good note. Plus, unsurprisingly, the DJ who asked me to design a website for him, seemed to not notice my calls and forgot to return my voicemail. For once I wanted random dudes to be plaguing me with offers!

My day was drudging along, my spark had yet to ignite, no jobs, where was the money to keep me afloat going to come from, the sun was shining and beating down, but the gloom was setting in. I have realized that the majority of job offers I have gotten since being here, seem just to be ways of luring me in and trying to bed me. And before you think I am being a cocky ape thinking this, know that any girl who has done this has not been good looking (average at best), and the rest have been dudes. For example, the hippy who told me she had work for me just tried to get me drunk and asked me to change a lightbulb, as she dressed up as a leprechaun. For example, with the website work, could I do it for free but, you know,maybe we can work out a different payment? No, thank you. For example, the orgy chick told me she could sort out a job for me helping on a movie set, but seemingly I would need to partake in a mostly male orgy for that. I could go on but thankfully wont.

I decided to get proactive, and head to the gym earlier than usual, up to big happy gay Jim. I had faith in Jim! High fives, rock paper, greetings done, where was my call, you pr**k, and why no pillow talk?! Turns out the operations manager was off until tomorrow so he hadn’t asked her yet. However, he rings her there and then to try and rush through an okay for me to start. I get him put it on loudspeaker, so I know he’s not spoofing. Setback, only get her voicemail, he leaves her a long rambling message, but he still seems optimistic so things were looking up a bit. Hopefully tomorrow I will get the call! The only bad thing about it all was this… as I was leaving, Jim tells me to get my best French stuff ready, he really enjoyed yesterday. Oh Jesus.  Eh, don’t worry Jim, I will have the place rocking, just give me a trial run. He tells me he can’t wait to see me in action for the full two hours if I get the all clear,then, as you do, or he does at least, finishes the conversation off with a subtle cat-like claw and gnawing his teeth at me. Oh sweet Lord, please say you did not just do that and that this job offer is actually real.

While walking home, I started to ponder was it really time to give in and take heed of all these signs. I was already forming a client base , should I just get a pimp and start the money flowing in. Maybe the pimp could get me some movie work too, didn’t seem like too bad a plan after all. Luckily, I have a minor brainwave. I should try dropping demos into all the gyms I have been to since I got here, to see if I can blag work with any of them. Not much I know but something at least, I could feel a bit productive. And it keeps me from getting my very own pimp for another few days at least.

Another sticky issue today arose from the simple task of being asked for a photo of myself. Well, not just a photo, a Hollywood photo if I have it. Maybe one with the Hollywood sign in the background. Oh right, I have plenty of them lying around. I have an article being published in a newspaper on Thursday, and they asked for that kind of photo to go with it. It is bad enough that I have had a great dislike for photos my whole life, so something as specific as that was going to be great fun getting. Plus, obviously, one where I didn’t look like an ape, didn’t look drunk to funk, and it had to be of me on my own, which was probably the worst of all. I don’t know about you, but that to me was asking a lot. Writing the article was easy, getting that photo was far tougher!

Last night, a friend who is a photographer said he would take a photo of me with the city of L.A in the background, the Hollywood sign included, he had the perfect spot. On our way to the location, we noticed that the Hollywood sign wasn’t lit up, the job, the one night it wouldn’t be, of course it wouldn’t. However, as we are driving home, right by my house, I spot the perfect, and more fitting, alternative. Next to the Laugh Factory, there is a big Hollywood sign spray-painted on the wall. Its not glamourous, not the first choice, a bit grimy and on the side of a petrol station, the perfect photo. He takes one snap, looks acceptable to me, thats the money shot, we are done! Personally, I don’t know how anyone could model if they weren’t getting paid for it. Or if they were sober. Standing having your photo taken, posing – look into the sky, look at my finger, look less like you are looking at anything, look like you know what you’re doing, look like you might be able to take a picture, just look away, look you’re crap at this, we are done – how anyone can enjoy that without getting paid is beyond me. Technically, I was getting paid, so thats why I had to do it, ha.

All in all, today has finished off quite well. I just emailed off the photo, the article is good to go. I have demos ready for the other gyms tomorrow. I had even set up a few free audits for acting classes for later this week, I managed to be productive in the end. And, wuu huu, just got a text from the DJ dude, hang on, let me read it before I finish up… Sorry mate… hold off on website… maybe in a month or two… busy with work. Balls. Woke up finding out one website job was a no-go, going to sleep finding out the exact same. The funking berries. I’m shaving my head tomorrow. I wonder if its too late to find a pimp at this hour too.

First a great chilled song that was on my iTunes a while ago… Save Myself by Willy Mason.

Here’s a song that will, if nothing else, have you wishing you were a robot for a song. Or, that you could dance as well as the guy in this video… Crimewave (Crystal Castles VS Health) by Crystal Castles

Pumping. Spinning. Sweating. Oh Jesus, What Have We Done Jim?!!!

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Priority number one at the moment is to find a job. The movie career has been put on hold until this has been accomplished. One needs to have money for food, and all. Here are my highly promising and highly stable job possibilities, which I have lined up at the moment:

1. Design a website for a DJ/club promoter, who actually asked me would I design it, but since then has been dodging me;

2. Fix and update a website for a film festival, but I think they think I will do it for free in return for my company (?) getting free advertising;

3. Selling shamwows;

4. DJ’ing and promoting in a bar/restaurant after hours, but still no meeting lined up with the owner, and, finally;

5. DJ’ing in the gym I go to, ha, probably the most likely of them.

This is the best I can muster up it seems, my degree and masters are being fully used to the highest degree. I am useless.

Moving on, yesterday the dude working in the gym, Jim we’ll call him, asked me to drop in a demo of the music which I would play to liven the place up. I should probably mention now my DJ’ing skills consist of having good music, and bob all mixing. I bought a mixer once, never used it, and ended just blending songs in on my iTunes whenever needed, I was quite the DJ wizard. I only had one blank CD to burn my demo onto, so just had the one shot at it really, great preparation. I chose my top 5, stuck them on the CD and got a quick tutorial from my DJ buddy for any lingo I may need if asked. Equipment, mixers, sound cards, song bits, sound checks, bits of card, plugs, wires, blenders, I was well equipped to spoof on if needed. In return for the tutorial I said I would give his podcast a mention, http://tantricdex.podomatic.com/. 

Up to the gym I go, I was pumped, the songs I picked were rocking, perfect for the gym. Jim greets me trying to pound fists, I give him paper, we’re off to a good start. “Thanks Merrick, I’ll have a listen and let you know.” Funk that, throw it on now Jim, I need a job!!! He doesn’t know how to use the equipment behind the desk, so says he’ll listen to it in the room they use for the spinning classes and let me know. Jim, listen to it now and tell me, I’m on my last few coppers. I manage to get him to go to the spinning room there and then to listen to the CD. 

We get into the spinning room, he tells me to have a seat. As there are only bikes in the room, I sit on a bike. He sits on a bike at the top of the class, next to the CD player, and turns my demo on. We were on the road. First song is brilliant, an indie remix. It gets me pumped straight away. Jim has an ear cocked to the music, his head starts to bop, he is feeling the tune. It is then that I notice I have started to cycle the bike I’m sitting on, the music got me going. The song is really kicking in, I’m pedaling a bit more, I notice Jim has started too.

I snap out of the pedaling “Next song Jim, it is even better!”. Song 2 is put on, which is even more rocking. We’re both pedaling a bit, his head is bopping like a toy dog on a dashboard, fingers clicking, I’m pedaling faster, he is pedaling faster, this is the greatest demo ever! Third song the beat slows a bit. However, once it kicks in, Jim is funking loving it. Clapping his hands, pumping them out, gay head bopping around as if Madonna was in the room, he’s pedaling, the music has me pedaling, I couldn’t stop, I made the demo too good!

At this stage I am getting worried. I know the fourth and fifth song are better than the first three. The fourth is a French house song, funking savage, almost too good though is what I’m thinking, this is veering off into something I was not expecting. He had asked if I could make the demo have a European vibe, something different, so when he hears the French lyrics, he almost squeals like a girl/pig, and starts pedaling away furiously. His shoulders are shrugging like a gay robot, he is pumping the air with his hands, loving it! I realize then that I can’t stop pedaling, the music has me hooked, you try sit on a bike and not pedal with that music playing! At this stage we are pedaling in synch, to the music, to the beat, faster, faster, oh Jesus, this is the best part of the song, it is really going to kick in “Change the song Jim, change it, song 5, Jim, quick, stop this!”

Jim puts on the final song. I know how good it is, so start to feel very nervous and afraid. I’m starting to feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead, I have to stop pedaling in synch, it’s like we are one, oh Jesus, why did I make this demo so good! The final song is building up, Jim at this stage has his lips pursued, eyes closed, head back in the air, legs pumping, hands in the air still squealing. I’m cycling in synch to the music, and with Jim, what is going on, turn it off Jim, turn it off, I didn’t know this was going to happen, it was only meant to be a demo!!! The song is kicking in for the last time, the big chorus, the last hurrah, this is what it was all about. I can’t resist any longer, no energy to hold back, I just give in and go with the music. My hands are in the air, legs pumping to the beat, biting my lip, this is the greatest song ever, my head is bopping, wuu, eyes shut tight, work it out, feel the beat, oh jesus, is this some sort of gay sex, what is going on!!!

Finally, the song finishes up. I feel naked and exposed, sweating, red head, dizzy, gasping for air, thank God I stopped at five songs! Jim sparks up a cigarette, looks at me, and tells me “That was good, I enjoyed it, good work.” Oh sweet Lord, what just happened? Why did I not play the usual mundane crap they have on repeat in there instead. I felt violated, are we meant to hug now? Jim tells me he’ll call me, he must let the other manager hear it as well and they’ll work out a schedule if she likes it too. He hasn’t called me yet. The bastard used me.

On my way out I got some better news at least, I have a new target. Holly Valance is also a member of my gym, although she wasn’t looking the May West I must say. Not to worry though, hopefully for her, if I get the job, she will have my music pumping her on and she’ll be back to her best in no time. I just better not have been used for a quick demo, I feel so cheap.

Two songs of the day. I couldn’t find the French one on Youtube that tipped the scale so here’s the first song that got the ball rolling… Viva La Vida (DiscoTech Remix) by Coldplay

Second one is a Kings of Leon remix also included… Sex On Fire (Richard Sharkey & Peter Sar Remix)

I was actually going to put a 6th song on at the end, as a joke, but at the last minute decided not to, just in case they didn’t see the funny side of it. The song was, and this is not a lie, Wake Me Up Before You Go Go by Wham. Thank funk I didn’t.

I’ll Have A Diet Coke, A Muppet And… An Orgy?

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Friday and Saturday night were full of hits and misses. Friday started off with me being in a “funk the recession, I’m on a session” mood. I had devised a plan for myself… blog -> book -> sitcom -> movie, ha, every man needs a plan! Plus, I was back in my embracing L.A, going with the flow, don’t turn down random invites anymore, frame of mind. Not as clever as I thought it might be.

First club I went to, once again, was full of girls with a thirst for Coca-Cola, Pepsi must be freaked. My new response is to tell them no, but I have some Diet if they want it? This is met by puzzlement and being asked if it is good? Yes, you ape, its lovely. It’s funny as well to watch girls flock over to your table if there are bottles of vodka or the likes on it, not that that they were mine or anything, obviously. The minute the last drop of the last bottle is finished, the girls disperse like gay magicians, poof, disappear. I waited for the girl I was talking to to come back, to give me her number, but she obviously got lost, or found a can of Coke in the toilet to keep her occupied. 

The next bar on the list was the first bar in Hollywood I have seen hit by the recession, it was not on a session, it was funking dead. Cool bar too, but just dead. And there was an absolute ape on the door, an Irish ape as it happens. As I’m stopped at the door, I notice the bouncer, about my age, has a hybrid American/Irish accent, like the gimp I met on the plane. I don’t mean either that he was American with Irish parents. He was fully Irish, putting on an American accent. When he hears my accent, for some reason, he thinks I’m taking the p**s out of him. “Where are you from?” Ireland, you? “Who sent you up to me? You’re not Irish, where are you from?” Cork, you? “Belfast, but you’re not Irish, who sent you up to me to talk like that?” I am Irish, what are you on about? “Say something Irish so…” You’re a muppet, can I go in now? This actually gets me in, but not before he has given me a high five, and told the other bouncers of how we belong to the same clan, he’s Gaelic too, and out comes the Belfast accent. Sure we are, because Irish people often call each other Gaelic, you muppet.

The next day, I decided to give up booze. At least until I start to be productive. So, until I got a definite yes for a job, no more boozing, these are recession times we live in after all. At least when people in L.A hear you’re off the booze, they do not look at you like a freak they don’t want to get stuck talking to for the night, as they might, say, in Ireland on a night out. In L.A, they save those looks for when you tell them you actually don’t drink Coke, so to speak.

So, anyways, I decide to head out on Saturday for a while sober Joe, to a going away party in a bar close to my house. About half one, I get a text asking if I want to go to a house party, which is on in an apartment close by. The text is from a random girl I met before, a European like myself. She lures me to the party by telling me there are lots of “hot European girls here who would love to say hi” How could I resist?!

I get to the apartment, she opens the door looking all bohemian like, tells me to come in, have a seat. The minute I cross the threshold, I get a weird vibe. No music at the party, but that is the least of my worries. There is also a fire on, for some odd reason, so the place was roasting. Again, not a major worry I would find out. The apartment is a sitting room and kitchen in one, plus bathroom and bedroom. I have been fooled with false promises. There is only one other girl here, and four guys. The guys are sitting on the L-shaped couch, the girl is sitting on the floor. The hostess tells me take a seat, there is only room on the floor, so I sit next to the girl, who is French it seems, and quite hot. Just as I sit down, on the floor, and notice I am sitting right with my back to the fire, the job, a guy comes out of the bathroom, the girl next to me stands up, goes over to the guy, they hold hands, and both leave, all in one foul swoop. Ciao, ciao, nice to meet you, eh, where are the other hot European girls?

The hostess comes in, sits between the guys on the couch, and starts smiling at me. I notice the dudes are kind of doing the same. I am on the ground, giving them all a dopey, uncomfortable, what-the-funk-is-this, smile back, feeling like I am being interviewed with the set-up going on, and feeling the heat rip into me from the fire. Then the random questions are thrown at me by the dudes, who I now see are probably, max, bicentennial, max. “Want a beer?” No, thanks. “Are you on anything?” No. “Want to be on something?” No. “Are you single?” No, I’m married to God. “You’re funny. You should relax, this is a good place to be, we’re going to have fun”. Oook, this is not the party I was promised, where are those hot European girls again?

Trying to change the subject, and getting sick of the stares from some German dude, Klaus, I ask the girl where the funk are all the hot European girls she was on about to me. “Hey, chill out Mark, you need to relax on that, it’s not always all about the women you know” What the funk are you on about. What the funk is this. “Yeah, you need to relax, want to be on something?” Klaus, funk off. It is now when I realize I am no longer sweating because of the fire. I think this is lined up to be an orgy. With one girl, four dudes, and, if their plan goes well, me. 

This is the first time I have been in this situation, so I did not really register what exactly was going on at first, it was not something I expected, as a normal person wouldn’t I presume. So, I asked again, are there any women coming, and got the same reply. Why is there no music either? Oh, there’s music in the bedroom, want to come in and help me pick a song? I wasn’t asking you, Klaus, funk off. In reality, I didn’t tell him to funk off at all, I was planning my escape route and trying to play it cool. So, after having sat down only a few long, long minutes earlier, I jumped back up, time for me to leave. “Oh you can’t leave, you just got here, we’re going to have a fun night, you’re not leaving” Of course I’m not, I’m just going outside to make a quick call, I’ll be right back, chill out Klaus. 

For some reason I didn’t want to risk the elevator, so I hurtled down the three flights of stairs and briskly walked (half ran) home. To top it all off, I actually got a text on the way home from the girl asking why I just disappeared like that, some of the guys thought it was very rude, I should be more open, maybe next time? Hopefully, hopefully, she understood my text calling her a muppet. I’ll have to start screening the random invites from now on!

Song of the weekend is Gifted (featuring Kanye West, Santogold and Lykke Li) by N.A.S.A