Monthly Archives: May 2009

Giruls

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There are numerous reasons why I am staying away from certain specific stories on el blogaruu. Numerous reasons. Main one being, obviously, I have none of that kind from here in L.A. Numerous others. Lately, this became another reason. Recently, a guy I hardly know, and still not sure why he bothered, started to tell me about a game of chess, lets call it, that he played with a girl the day before. Telling me where his pieces were positioned on the table, where he put his king, none of her pieces would go near his king, and a lot more talk specifically aimed around his chess pieces. All in all, he went on and on about his king, and what he did with it. Hopefully the italics will help you along the way there. It was great fun to sit there and listen to, a pointless story, pretty much like this one. However, at least it made me realize, no one wants to hear about chess, unless your king is beaten up or something bizarre happens during the game, but even then, not really blogaruu material.

On the other hand, I do have a few stories that just about stay within the realm of bloggable. In fact, I have a bucket of them, but seeing as three occurred all within the same evening and night over the weekend, I’ll work them in here and make them suitable.

First one starts with a girl I met once, months back, during the first week or two of being in L.A. Introduced to her on a night out by either Andy or Colin Todd, not sure which, I think her first few comments to me were along the lines of how she always gets her lefts and rights mixed up, her left hand, right hand, left indicator, right indicator, left foot, right foot and a long, long list of many more that she so kindly listed out for me. I think I was distracted by her left and right something or other, can’t really remember, eyes maybe, to be able to withstand her long list. Throughout the one time I met her, she told me so many ways that she gets them mixed up. She painted quite the clever picture of herself, to be true.

Anyways, out of the blue the other day, she gets in touch to tell me she is in my neck of the Hollywoods, what was I up to. I told her I was packing up some stuff, I was leaving L.A. “Oh my Gawd, why are you leaving?” Gave her my reasons and included a joke especially tailored for her – I am leaving to go left for a while, work to be done! “Huh, go left?” Oh sorry, I meant to go write, I must get some writing done, I can’t believe that has happened again, I always get my lefts and rights mixed up! Surprisingly, my horrifically good joke, a thinking man’s joke, one of those ones, went waaay over her head, did not get it, in the slightest “Oh my Gawd, I always do that too! Just earlier I got my left & right shoe mixed up!” Good work woman, at least it is nice to see that L.A has not changed you since the last time we spoke.

For some reason, she was very emotional and hysterical that I was leaving L.A for a few days. Although it did keep in tow with her texts the last time I left for Mexico “Noooo, I will miss you, come back, I miss hanging out!”, after only meeting her once, ever, a couple of months prior. “I must come say goodbye, I am close by, I have to send you off”. Ok, you strange nut, if you insist. After she sent me off and said goodbye, it dawned on me why she was so hysterical and acting like it was so final. Well, not really dawned, more she said it specifically “I can’t believe you’re leaving L.A and going back to Ireland, what will I do now we can’t hang out any more?!” I was going to mention a few important issues, such as I was only going to San Francisco for a week or so, plus we had hung out twice since January, but I decided it would be better if I just right her off. I mean, left her off. Deary me, her ways are starting to rub off on me, I will miss hanging out with her!

She left, I got ready to go out for my friend’s birthday, and then left my house. Literally as I stepped off the steps to my building, incident number two occurred. A girl was walking up my street, and I was heading down it, we were inevitably going to cross paths. And I knew her, from the club/bar/dancing convention place at the top of my street. Only seen her once, and she had only seen me once, but enough happened for small talk to occur. Maybe I could get away with a quick nod, a how’s it going? and scuttle off down the street. 

Still not sure if she did this on purpose or not, but at times I do it myself, if and when I feel that the person asking me how things are going, does not actually give a flying funk, and wants to get away. When I feel that they are asking me to merely fill a gap, instead of obligingly giving them their desired, quick response – Fine, yourself? Good stuff – and letting the conversation end quickly, I prefer to throw words at them that they can not possibly get away with just giving a fake nod and a smile. Words such as “bloated”, “bizarre” or “Oriental” have all worked in the past to stop a person in their tracks and make them begrudgingly ask “Oh. Bloated/bizarre/Oriental? Why so? You look fine to me. Please say you’re fine and let me go” At least it lets me know if they are listening or not.

Back to this girl specifically, who again, not sure if she meant it, but, as it dawned on her that she recognized me too, responded with a grimace, and said… “Oh hi, I’m sore” accompanied with a pouting face. What could I do, tell her good work, and walk on? No, had to be done – Oh yeah, ha, that’s a weird one (but a good one), why sore? “I cut myself shaving, I was in a rush for work”. Now I thought she was the one lying to me, after quickly inspecting her face and seeing there were no cuts, what a liar! Ha, guff, where? I don’t see any cuts. By the time I said this, realized my stupidity – girls shave their legs, and not their faces (well, most anyways I hope, ha) – and was about to say, oh your legs, she put me in my place with her blunt response…

At this point I should just say, girls in L.A at times have no shame/cop on/are very open to strangers or people they just met. Anyways, she could’ve wrote a monologue on where she cut herself. And the way she bluntly told me, left me just saying dumbly – Oh, there, I thought you meant somewhere else, ha, oh yeah, for work, yeah, I get it, eh… To which she replied “Oh no, I dont ever shave my a…” sk me a stupid question and I will further dumbfound you with my brutally open answers. 

All quite random really. Not much happened after that now I think about it. This post is dragging on a bit so I will not bore you with any further details. Final story just involved me being brutal at remembering names, particularly when one girl was, so to speak, quizzing me about hers. Doesn’t matter, end of those type of stories.

Song of the funny old day is… Strange Overtones by David Byrne & Brian Eno

Tea Or Coffee?

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Is anyone else this smart at times…

You have somewhere you need to be, an important meeting lets say, but it could be anywhere. Being the smart person you are, you get up early that morning, get ready, plenty of time to spare, and you’re good to go. Say the meeting is at 11, lets say that is about 10.43, and the meeting venue is about a 6 minute walk from where you live (according to Google maps). It would be dumb to be too early for the meeting. Obviously. Tops, you only want to be a minute or two early. So, you decide to have a quick cup of tea before you leave. The smart thing to do. You cant beat a cup of tea!

Roughly around 10.45 you fill the kettle up, but seeing as it is not an electric one, you have to sit and wait for it to boil on the cooker. Pots and kettles are quite similar when watched. You get impatient, but continue to wait. You’ll chug it back quickly over the sink, it’ll be fine. Cup and tea bag ready, at 10.48 you pour the boiling water in, can’t have it too weak, so you wait a bit longer for it to be the right blend that you like. It is now about 10.50, drain the tea bag, and realize you have only a drop of milk left. It’ll have to do, no time to waste, just chug it back and you can still make the meeting on time. Take a big mouthful, and burn your tongue nicely. Spit half the mouthful into the sink and curse the cup of tea, for being so stupid and hot, what was it thinking?!!! The cup of tea is then poured down the sink, as punishment for burning your tongue. For some reason (maybe have OCD, or else just be a clean freak, not really sure), you decide to wash the cup before you leave, realize it is now 10.53, and the race is on! 

Anyone else? No? Me neither.

On a side note, last Friday I had a meeting with the head of the Irish Film Board here in L.A. It was on in Starbucks around the corner from my house, about 5 minutes away. Well that’s not taking into account my steep hill and the dodgy street of traffic on Sunset Boulevard you must run across to get there. But if you run/sprint all the way, in the sweltering heat, you’ll be fine, you can make it on time. Just.

An Irish girl in BAFTA had set the meeting up for me, good chance to network etc. There was also another Irish actress coming along as well, the more connections the better! Due to a plethora of reasons – sheer heat that day, issues with my tongue, and not being a fan of hot beverages at that time – I was hoping to stay away from getting a coffee. However, as one was then bought for me, I thought I could at least get away with just holding it, and pretending to take sips. Not to look rude or anything. Obviously, I was then asked if my coffee also tasted a bit peculiar, take another drink and tell me if yours tastes odd too, kind of thing occurred. Yeah, tastes weird alright, is there any milk in it, no? Cheers. Tastes like burnt tongue, or maybe the inside of my cheek is now scalded, not sure really which one I am tasting. My mouth has yet to recover or forgive me. The sacrifices I am going through in hope of a break! 

Overall, the meeting went well. I was not entirely sure what I wanted to gain out of the encounter, mainly just to make contacts and tell people what I am trying to do here, I suppose. Told them a few blog related stories, the girl talked about her acting activities and the likes, and that was it mostly. The guy from the Irish Film Board was younger than I expected, sound too, and the girl was pretty cool on top. However, when the meeting was wrapped up, there was an air of, ok, cool, cheers for meeting up, au revoir, I will see you whenever. We all went outside, shook hands goodbye, gave the girl I just met a hug goodbye, almost bopped her in the head, and started to walk back home, fairly pleased. Fairly.

As it turned out, the guy was walking in the same direction as me, seeing as his office was across the road from the top of my street. The conversation turned a bit less informal (not that the coffee meeting was formal or anything) and things took a turn for the better. Being an Everton supporter has rarely been of use to me. Meeting other Everton supporters is very infrequent. Lo and behold, I was walking alongside a fellow Everton supporter. Banter on “What was your sitcom about again? We should meet up for the Everton match”. Sounds good. He also drinks in the bar that I now DJ at, more banter on! “I’m going there tomorrow with some friends if you want to come.” I’m heading off to write the pilot and sitcom outline, when I get back though, sounds good. “When you get that scene of the sitcom made, I’d be interested in looking at it, could show it to a few others too. Did I tell you about the film festival I’m organising?” You mentioned it in passing, tell me more, it sounded good!

The walk home took the level of the meeting’s success up a notch or two. All in all, well worth a burnt tongue (tea) and scalded cheek (coffee). I shall be sticking with the water from now on. Until the next meeting anyways.

Here’s a mighty song that I always sang along to with “You look a bit like coffee and you taste a bit like tea”. Then found out it was “… coffee … me”. Tea would’ve been far better… The Skin Of My Yellow Country Teeth by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

Two Sec’s There

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It would appear that this name is beginning to stick, when it comes to me and DJ’ing. Or a hybrid of it, Tsector perhaps, I am not sure how it is that the people not understanding what I say, might spell it. Not too sure how I feel about the name, but, who cares really.

Yesterday was a glorious day of DJ’ing. After trying to be clever and prepare six hours worth of music for two gigs, I ended up just making them up as I went along. My new evening stint in the gym is looking promising. Not that are paying me or anything for it (yet, talks of it yesterday), just the fact that it is the busiest time in the gym, more people are coming up to me giving me good feedback, and, most importantly, there are double the amount of good looking women in there at that time, than there usually are when I play during the day. On the down side, unfortunately I can no longer say I pleasure a room full of gay men anymore. Now it is half and half. Although one guy did come up to me and tell me that he didn’t like my A-Ha remix. The way he said it though, with a tut and a huff, made me play him my Rick Astley remix straight away. If I was to lose a fan, I might as well fully lose him, tut, huhh.

That gig went well over the two hour mark (it is tough to say no to requests from certain girls in there) so I was in a bit of a rush for my first night DJ’ing in the bar by me. Seeing as I had bob all time to prepare for that gig, I decided I would go through the decades, 60’s, 70’s, 80’s. 90’s and oo’s, and so on and so forth. A playlist of 10 hours to choose from, I was good to go. First ever gig in a bar, in Hollywood, with just me and my laptop, I was a tad apprehensive. However, a bar tab of all you and your friends can drink, took the edge off a bit. There was never really a need to worry, the music sold itself. I am convinced the main two things you need to DJ are: cop on, and good music. I at least have the good music part. The rest can be dealt with. Mighty work if you can seamlessly mix two songs beat for beat, perfectly in synch, with each other, the crowd did not even notice, but if they are crap songs, who cares. My view at least. Not that I wouldn’t like to be able to do what DJ AM, for example, can do, but it is all about the baby steps!

Now that I know, I should have gotten into the DJ’ing malarky a long time ago. Purely as it is one of the easiest ways, in the world, to get women to approach you, and use brutal lines, on you for a change. Anyone out there thinking of giving it a go, do it! On the down side, “Oh my gawd, what song did you just play? And what are you playing now? And what will you play next?” are three fun questions I encountered over and over last night. The reason I know the majority of them really cared as well about the music, was by the way the majority of them either walked away/zoned out while I was telling them the names of the songs/bands.

The bar is not a poser, full on model, look at me, who are you, kind of bar. So when I say I was trying to juggle three or four different conversations with different girls at one stage, I am not trying to give the impression that they were all the prettiest flowers in the pot. But, it did lead to me telling a group of them, again, two sec’s there, while I mixed a song or two, and all of them to ask, “Whats tsecstor? Where are you from?”.

I had told my buddy of the other girl in the gym who first mixed up what I was saying, so he informed them that it was my DJ name, DJ Tsector, to which they bizarrely liked, and squealed loudly over. Odds are they probably did not understand in the slightest the explanation, or anything that was actually said, well at least not by me.

As the night progressed, and the free bar tab continued to flow, the music got better and better. The place was rocking! Even if the crowd don’t know at first don’t know the song, “Where’s Me Jumper” by the Sultans of Ping is a good song to get them both pumped, and inquisitive. Bar the fact that my laptop, again, crashed at one stage mid song, and that one girl unwittingly unplugged a lead (tough for someone like myself with minimal wits at best to figure out what just happened) the night could not have gone much better. Oh, and playing the same song twice, in the space of about 4 songs, although nobody noticed except me, I think. They probably did then notice when I just got it off 1/3 of the way through but we live and learn!

It is fair to say that the drink might have clouded my judgement about last night, but I’ll ignore this if you do.The manager asked me back the following week, trial was over, money on, wuu huu. Although I had to disappoint her by letting her know I would be in San Francisco for the week. Genuine disappointment too, like the girl in the gym who works Thursday nights, asking if I was coming back next week. DJ’ing has turned the tables, so to speak, girls are now no longer happy to see me leave, I am now leaving them disappointed!

After all my talk about how DJ’ing was the best way to get girls to chat you up, I obviously went home alone. Obviously. Although, I do have the excuse that I had to get up early for a meeting! Obviously that was the only reason why. Forget the other long, long list of possible reasons. A great day.

Two songs of the day… Where’s Me Jumper by Sultans of Ping

And girls here are big fans of this song it seems… So Rich, So Pretty by Mickey Avalon

#1040 in Maxim’s Hot 100

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The past 36 hours have been eventful enough, at times, so I’ll write in blocks of events, perhaps even split the posts up, who knows, we’ll see how it goes! 

I’ll start with Wednesday night, the big Maxim party I was invited along to, ish. My buddy seems to have a meddle of jobs, including doing talent work for Maxim, along with promoting and DJ’ing in cool clubs here in L.A. Also off to Cannes for a week for some reason. I know. Lucky b*****d. Anyways, he asked me along to the party, starting off in Santa Monica, then on to the club My House for the after party. I am not a fan of Santa Monica, so decided I would only go to the after party. (Ahem, that is a lie, I love Santa Monica, I just cant afford a $100 round trip cab out there).

To be honest, I think some people actually believed me when I said I was number 1040 on Maxim’s hot 100. Ignoring the fact that the list consists of just girls, who are good looking, and not apes (well, maybe a few are). That criteria rules me out for starters. Seeing as there were well over 100 hot women at the party, I thought the best way to get to the top, was to simply ask them what number they were. I was number 1040. I hope I win. When is the raffle on? I thought there were only 100 of us though. Fingers crossed. A good line for the party, I thought anyways.

The talent at the club was funbelievable, even if they didn’t make the top 100, I would not have held it against any of them. Myself and my buddy stayed in the outside area for most of the night, not a fan of sober dancing, or screaming at people trying to talk to them inside, with music and my accent making conversations non-existent. Slow to start with, but once a group of girls mistook me for Russell Brand for about 5 minutes, I was back in the swing of things. On a side note, I am sure he is sick of people mistaking him for me too. I must ask him next time I see him. 

There were a few actresses in there that I recognized, but no clue of names. Also a tremendously hot Australian girl who we were having a bit of banter with, but it turned out she was a lesbian. For once, however, I managed to make a joke because of someone else’s accent, even if it was horrendous(ly good). When asked how long she’s in L.A, she replied “I’m here for one wake, then New York for a wake, then back to L.A for two more wakes.” I told her how sorry I was to hear so many people she knew had passed away, hope she was doing okay. Ha, if only she had not been a lesbian! (Although now that I think about it, I do tell girls, whom I don’t have interest in, that I am gay, but obviously she wasn’t lying. Obviously. And not sure if whom was used correctly in that sentence but I tried).

One other funny incident was with a girl that I am fairly convinced was Mandy Moore. It’s hard to tell really, changing looks, hairstyles, dark clubs, and all that, but it is Hollywood. Lindsay Lohan was also floating around in there (again, I think/presume it was her, I’ll start asking for an i.d from now on), but no small talk with her. And I do think that she might have left with the Aussie girl, so her story might be true! Back to Ms. Moore. Next to her at the bar, looking quite hot, I enquired if she was Irish, not sure why but a good ice breaker. I think she told me that she was 1/7th Irish, her surname was Moore (looked like her, same surname, thats why I think it was her) Oh yeah, in Ireland we actually pronounce that Moo-er. Say it with me. Moo-er. It comes from the Irish word whu-er. Eh, I mean hoover. The bar man gave me a free shot at least out of it. And she laughed. And told me to have a good night, nice meeting an Irish guy. And walked away. Wuu.

All in all it was a good night. Hopefully the few photos I took with my disposable camera worked, although there were issues with the flash. You think a $10 camera would be fool proof! I’ll have to wait until however it is I get those photos out of it for me to find out. Strangely got a few emails from girls, numbers are a thing of the past! And finally finished up with me getting kicked out of another club for not buying more apple juice. Even though I had 4 apple juices in front of me. But that is another story completely, one which is not fit for the blog.

Song of that great day was… Song 2 by Blur

The Beautiful People

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Today was my day of being the music man. I had it set aside, get three music playlists finished today. Worst call ever. I am sick to death of music. I thought it would be mighty, music all day, wuu, wrong, especially seeing as they are three different types of playlists that I have to prepare. One is for the gym (I like to keep it fresh, different music every time, ha, ape), one is for the 4 hour gig in the bar tomorrow night (rock, indie, punk kind of thing) and the final one was a half hour demo for the new club that has yet to open, the one I have already been in, that one.

So I had gym music, bar music, and club music, all mashed into one, all day long. Roughly 2 hours, 4 hours and a 1/2 hour. That is a fair amount of hours to be trying, fruitlessly, to do three different genres at once. By the way, do you know how long 4 hours is? As in music terms? 60 – 70 songs, I was told, which is a lot of songs. Particularly when I use my shrewd method of matching similar songs to improve my mixing, horrendous, I think I will have to formulate a new strategy. Plus the girl told me her bosses will be in, so it is my chance to shine and nail a regular slot. Happy days, although I did get stumped when she asked me for my DJ name, anyone have any good suggestions? Tricks, Trickaduu, Tsector, Two Secs There, and World’s Worst are what I’ve been mulling over.

The other two major activities I did today, were working on my sitcom, and buying groceries. Which provided me with material for the sitcom, as a walk in L.A almost always does. Firstly, while waiting to cross the road, I overheard two people talking. It went a bit like this… “I must tell you, I think you are so, so, so nice” – she was interrupted here by the other lady, who swooped in with – “Oh my gosh thank you! You are so nice too, I’m so glad we met” – first lady continues on… “but, as I was going to say, I think you and your dog are idiots. We shouldn’t go to the dog park anymore together”

Ha, it was hilarious. Unfortunately the light went green and they stayed on the same side of the road while I slowly forced myself to cross over, so I didn’t get how the rest of the conversation went. I presume, it went very well! If only the slightly less plastic looking ladies had waited for her friend to finish her sentence!

Second incident was with a girl in the vegetable isle, who wanted to know if I was excited to watch American Idol tonight “Only a few left now, oh my Gawd, I cannot wait”. If there is one thing I was not looking forward to, it was that horrendous show, particularly after a day of music, even if it was polar opposite (i.e good to Idol’s bad, my view at least). So, I duly told her, no, not at all, I only listen to traditional Irish music, and techno, at the same time, which she did not understand, in the slightest. She did get a bit offended though when she got the gist that I did not like American Idol “Oh, well you could at least keep me happy and pretend to be excited about it too” Again, I duly obliged, and gave her a fake wuu, wuu duu, wuu, and punched the air, Harvey Milk style. This also did not make her happy! What the funk?! “Oh my gawd, no need to be sarcastic about it, I never said you had to like it”. Ok, let me just pick out a few carrots then and I’ll be gone. 

Finally, when at the till, paying for my carrots et al., the guy sitting there asks where I am from, I R land, I’ll take paper bags please boss. “Well I’ll be damned, an I R ish man, and a guy from a little farm in Arkansas, interacting in L.A, Hollywood no less, who would’ve thought that?!” Yeah, that is just amazing… how?! “Well, you know, who would’ve thought that? I certainly would not have, did you ever think it?” Again, what the funk?! No, I would not have thought of that, just like people a hundred years ago would not have thought of the internet, or the iPod, before they all happened, unless of course they went on to invent them, or whatever, you get the gist. It made no sense whatsoever to me! To keep him happy, I gave him a wuu and a Harvey Milk too, which at least seemed to please him more than the girl, as he gave me a wuu back, even if it was more reserved.

Thats about it, thats my day. This post has been a bit rushed. I was going to do a whole post made up entirely of song titles, I had it all planned today (I have a bit of free time here and there to mull these things over). However, I have been invited to go along to the Maxim Hot 100 party!!! Wuu huu, Harvey Milk all the way!!! Time to go bring the level of good looking people down a few notches. I wonder if they rate us as we enter the door or how it works? I’m just happy to be in the top 100 people. Who would’ve thought it, huh, a dope from Ireland with a disposable camera in amongst some hot women?

I actually have the post time delayed, so if I get back early for any of the following reasons: too ugly to be let in; my buddy hasn’t put me on the guest list; get kicked out for having a disposable camera, or numerous others which I don’t have the time to write, I’ll do my great song title paragraph or two! You must be so excited! Go Harvey Go!

Song of the day was going to be The Beautiful People by Marilyn Manson, but his version of Tainted Love might be more user friendly…

Strange Day

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Today has been a tad strange. Surprisingly, I mean that as a good strange, an unexpected strange. After the night’s sleep I had, I think the level of productivity I actually achieved is what has thrown me off. For numerous reasons last night (noise, dogs barking, the heat, drunken singing from downstairs, etc.) I got very little sleep. However, the main culprit, who kept me up from 4 in the morning until roughly half 6, was a fly.

There comes a point, when you are after laying in bed for 4 hours, battling to sleep, and you hear something small and innocuous, that you can make one of two choices. Either ignore the buzzing noise that is slightly bothering you, wade through it, keep your eyes shut and doze off. Or, as I did, open them slightly, focus fully on that little buzzing sound, and ruin all your good work. For far too long last night/this morning, I chased a fly around my room. Up the walls, out one window and in the other, running around in circles like a mad man in my boxers, chasing a noise (I only saw the fly a few times). It was all quite… nay, extremely stupid. However, the previous disturbances had me at my wits end so I was determined not to be beaten by a fly.

In the end, all the chasing around tired me out and I dosed off, not sure what time, after 6.30, it was bright outside, and I could hear people pottering around. This was a sober night too, which made it all the worse! I had forgotten that I set my alarm for 10 the next day, so when it piped up, I oddly sprung out of bed at first go, as if my body clock thought I was late for an exam or something along those lines. Standing there, again, like a mad man in a crunched position, in just my boxers, wondering why I had just jumped out of bed at first go, and why was I not so tired after such little sleep, a little buzz in my ear reminded me of the disastrous sleep I had just experienced.

The fly was back in the morning and he was taunting me, darting around my head, buzzing in my ear, whispering insults and ridiculing me, I felt like I was being bullied. When it landed on my right shoulder, I swung blindly for it, missed it, obviously (the fly was far more clever than I could possibly be at that hour) and ended up hitting myself in the shoulder. Again, the fly taunts me by staying close, moving to my lower left back, where once again, like a dumb fool, I swing, miss, and wallop myself in the back, like a slap to the kidneys. At this stage, my lack of sleep is kicking in, I think I am close to losing my mind, let it go, it is a fly, and close my eyes, lifting my head towards the ceiling and taking deep breaths to calm down. Buzz, buzzzz and I feel it brush off my nose. I swing inwards with both hands, flailing wildly, thankfully missing my own face but ending up slumped back on my bed, beaten, distraught, and close to tears.

As I open my eyes and look up, I see the fly across the other side of the room, buzz buzzing at me from a distance, as if he was able to throw his voice, ventriloquist style, just to make me looker stupider. He wins, I leave the room, and let him celebrate, leaving me a broken man, and not yet even had breakfast. As you might tell, as I was eating my porridge, and staring down the barrel of a gun, I did really not expect today to go well, the start alone indicated it would be disastrous.

Strangely, by the time lunch swung around, I was after confirming a meeting this week with the head of the Irish Film Board here in L.A, applied for a website idea competition malarky thing, and managed to be given a successful template which I could use for my sitcom pitch, if and when the time comes around to do so. The template is brilliant, allows me to condense all I want to say, clearly and simply into a 60 second spiel, with the right buzz words, comparisons etc. all laid out. 

After lunch, a wave of stand-up material came to me, the material was flowing! I also realized that my opening line, which has actually worked twice, is not as good as it should be. Something in the context like “Oh, this is my first time doing stand-up and I think I might be crap because I’m not funny and no one laughs at my jokes” is not a great thing to tell the audience, at the start of a stand-up. I thought reverse psychology would be good, but thinking about it, those laughs were not as hearty as I would’ve liked them to be. It is kind of like telling a girl, just as ye are about to, ahem, that, oh, I should warn you, it’s my first time, I will not be that good, but look, we’ll give it a go, and who knows, we might at least get a laugh at how bad I actually am at doing it! Same for all walks of life, who wants a plumber who tells them it is her first time doing this job, or a mechanic who warns you that he is crap, but we’ll plough on! (I hope you appreciated my his and her equality statuses!).

Finished the day off by going to the gym, strangely a couple (guy and girl, could be brother and sister too I suppose) randomly came up to me and asked me why I don’t DJ at night in there. I told them I wasn’t too sure, just had been asked to do days, I suppose evenings would be more fun, busier and all. They nodded and left. They then must’ve went to the manager and came back to tell me they got me Thursday and Friday evenings when it would be busier if I wanted to do them – DJ on Thursday and Friday evenings, not the couple, obviously – the manager had said it was cool. Ok… cheers, thanks for that? See, I found that strange, at the time at least, but maybe thats just me?

And, in case you are wondering, the fly was not hurt. We are now friends, and he is curled up next to me in bed. The strange part is, he is almost finished reading my book before me!!! Wahey boss! Oh Jesus, brutal, I should’ve finished up with the last paragraph.

Song of this strange day is this mighty mash-up… Shut Up And Take Me Out by Franz Ferdinand – Ting Tings – DJ Y Alias JY