Good Hair, Bad Hair Day

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The reason I’m going with the good hair comment is because two random girls, one walking down the street, the other in a cafe, complimented my bird’s nest. I personally think that it was looking no different from yesterday, or as it will tomorrow. Being honest, neither compliment really improved my mood for more than 10 seconds. For some reason, the rest of the day has been weary and dreary. Not really sure why so. The sun was shining, one pretty cool thing did happen today, but I was feeling wrecked from the minute I woke up. Little b***ch mode was on for the day.

It might be something to do with the fact that I felt mugged in certain ways over the weekend. On Saturday, there were cleaners in our house to do a deep clean kind of thing. They seemed sound, I had an hour to kill, so I ended up helping them out, hoovering downstairs and the likes. I did notice yesterday that they did not clean any part of my room, or most of the rest of the house. I am not sure what they did being honest, brought the rubbish out maybe, not enough to warrant getting paid all that money. Presuming they were coming back to finish off, I find out today that they are not, they were just crap and did a runner. Annoying enough.

Last night I was meant to be doing stand-up again. Yesterday I spent the day battling my hangover trying to think up new material for the 3 minute slot. It was on in a supposedly well known comedy club, the iO West Theatre in Hollywood. I had never heard of it either. The manager had emailed me telling me I would be given a slot at some stage, so make sure to come along. When I arrived, I noticed the comedian Andy Dick in the crowd, apparently he was watching out for new talent. I think he is involved with the place. Maybe that the section where it was on being called the Andy Dick Black Box gave me the clue.

iO West Improv Theatre

So, I was pumped to get on stage and try to impress him, could lead to the big break, sitcom, movies etc. Obviously, ha. Plus my buddy came along with a friend, I would know people in the audience, added pressure. Then I get informed that the 3 minute slot was actually more like a 5 minute one. Only 2 minutes extra I know, but still, a long time on stage. The song “I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight” by Cutting Crew randomly started to play over in my head, and weirdly settled my nerves. I had thought up of a load of crap jokes earlier in the day, at least I think I thought them up, couldn’t decide if I maybe just heard them years ago or not. If worst came to worst, I’d pull a few of them out.

However, I had no need to think of any of this. Seeing as the b*****d didn’t call me out to go up on stage. Supposedly, you wrote your name on a slip of paper, the host then pulled them out randomly up on stage to see the order, and everyone gets a go. Nope. All his buddies got hooked up. I am no buddy of his though it seems. Maybe because I didn’t laugh at his horrific jokes when he did a bit before the night got under way. I am no expert, but you would be surprised at how crap some of the stand-up comedians are in Hollywood. I know its only open mic and no-one is getting paid for it, but some of them are absolutely horrific. To top it all off, they are highly delusion, not realizing the sound they seemed to think was laughter was actually silence. 

Sitting there from 10, until 12, gradually realizing that the names were not, in fact, being called out randomly, was highly frustrating, especially when some of them were so, so, so bad. At least I can cop on to when I tell a bad joke, that is most of the angle I was going to use, but these people don’t let it go. There was actually an Irish woman who got to go up about halfway through. Jesus, she was brutal, ruined any hope I would have had at playing the Irish card, just kept shouting at herself. Leaving there with my buddy and his friend, after having not going up, was a great buzz, chump and an ape all rolled into one.

All of the above, plus the let down of the fight on Saturday night, I think contributed to me feeling weary and beaten today. Although, I should’ve been upbeat. I had a meeting with a committee member of BAFTA, to see if I could impress and get accepted into a newcomer’s program which they have. The meeting was arranged in Urth Cafe on Melrose, which is right next to the BAFTA office. When I arrived there, I immediately recognized the place. It is always shown on the likes of Entourage, photos of L.A, all that jazz.

Urth Cafe

People must just sit here and wait for celebrities. Going in you can feel eyes on you, until you take off your sunglasses and people see that, no, you are not someone they recognize, how you’ve let them all down, it is ridiculous! Speaking of which, I think Lenny Kravitz was at the table next to me today, but he never took of his sunglasses so I wasn’t 100% sure, ha, 99% say.

This is where I got a hair compliment, unusual seeing as usually it is a hair complaint. I was looking sharp for the meeting, as in the sense it was a rare day I wore a shirt, 3 times a year roughly, so the shirt, and not me, was looking sharp. The compliment was given as I ordered a coffee. That was until I actually took off my sunglasses, which is when the girl didn’t recognize my beautiful eyes and walked away. I might as well have taken off my shirt and revealed a set of man boobs for the look of disappointment on her face. I am sure that she sincerely meant the compliment though. Sure.

Anyways, ordered a coffee, waiting for a Larry David lookalike to show up (the man from BAFTA’s own description), and tried to figure out if it was Lenny Kravitz next to me without staring, ha. An uncanny Larry David lookalike walks up the steps, recognizes me from the photo I sent in and makes his way over. I stand up, knock the table with my knee, spilling my coffee down my shorts, people turn to look at the commotion, Lenny doesn’t, coffee is hot enough on my thighs, great funking first impression. Seriously, what an ape.

Luckily, the man I meet with was born in Cork too, and we get on great. The meeting goes well, I spread out my 3 minutes of doing something good in one day to last the meeting, and as he leaves he tells me that he will be giving me a glowing recommendation to the board. Happy days, wuu.

As I walk home, I start to think today isn’t too bad after all. I am going to be recommended to the BAFTA committee board for membership, how could this not be a good day?! I mean, this now means that…ehh. This will mean that I now can, emm. What does this mean? Turns out, I have no clue what this actually means. I still can’t figure it out. I am presuming it is a good thing, I just have to find out why and what the benefits will be. However, lets not forget, all my presumptions so far, have usually turned out to be horrendously wrong. Great day.

Song of the bad hair day… Lisztomania by Phoenix

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