Big Bag Of Nuts Please


Mr Nut

Nuts. Random. Surreal. I knew L.A was all of the above. I knew this as I arrived on Saturday. I did not know that I would see a new level so soon. Kind of after blowing my mind. Only on the flight over did it sink in that I was finally going back. Realisation. Long term visa. Happy days. Probably be a bit weird to be back though after being home for a good bit. I was hoping that making the quick call to arrive back for Halloween would be a good idea. Perfect event for book purposes and all that. Although the possibility of going to the Playboy Mansion is appealing anyways, book or no book. My expectations of how events might transpire were way off. Way, way, waaaay off. The past three days have taken things up a notch. Don’t think I was ready for it. Maybe if I was settled in and had a few things organised it might be different. As it is though, fairly random. Contrasting it with Ireland. Even more so if I end getting on a private jet to Antigua today. Maybe my hangover is making me think it’s all a bit more bizarre than it actually is.

I’ve been working all day on bridging a few gaps in my memory. Struggling big time. Fighting off a pretty cruel three day hangover. Mostly I’m struggling on how to make sense of what I do remember. Which is my main problem, thinking too much. The demon monkeys have been jumping on my back all day long. I blame the gin for it being so bad. Thankfully I now think I’m getting the better of them. Although I can see how people go insane. Understand a bit more after today of how their brain might melt down on them. A lot of parts don’t seem real in my head when I play it back. I remember almost everything. However it’s just that my rational side doesn’t trust my memories. That surely didn’t happen, kind of after thought. That’s a bit too bizarre for it to be true. Then the flashback becomes clearer, I make a call or send a text and my bizarre memory is confirmed. Which melts my mind even more. It is a vicious cycle. I’ve been saying… nay… shouting ‘Ah no way!’ to myself all day. While walking down the street. Talking and shouting. To myself. Like a sane person. I blame the gin.

Edward, What What?

I think a few of the stories will have to be kept for the book. Hopefully a few won’t ever be told again. Even now I can’t really connect many of them together to make sense for the blogaruu. There are a lot of little back stories connected to random bizarre events. Maybe if I throw out a few ones that I’m struggling with they might all seem less random. Plus I want to figure out if it’s me who might be going insane, or the people that were involved. This one is pointless but confused me at the time. I remember talking with the comedian Eddie Griffin at the hotel bar. A serious chat where he was trying to convince me that the world was going to end soon. Like he was a nutter you might meet on the street with a sign shouting that the world is going to end. Presumed it was a joke seeing as he was a comedian. A joke I didn’t get, but maybe I was missing the obviousness of it all. I remember laughing initially to mask not getting it, which annoyed him. Realized he was actually being serious. As if he was filling me in on a secret, and I should’ve been more appreciative. On top of that there was a girl who then sat next to us, joined the conversation and it turns out she was an actress. Of the blue kind. So maybe she was just distracting me and Eddie was actually, somehow, making sense. 

That paragraph makes little sense in itself. Bit pointless. The problem is that I have hundreds more stories like that floating around my head. And when I try to fill people in today I get the same kind of confusion that I had with Eddie last night. What are you on about, type of reaction. I’ll try again from the start… Landed at five on Saturday. Collected from the airport by my buddy and his girlfriend. They invited me to join them for a drink with her Dad, his girlfriend and a director in his company who are all over visiting from London for two weeks. A nutshell story connecting me to the people I’ve been boozing with for the past three days. Boozing and bonding with people you just met is some laugh when it’s a hit. Kindred spirits. I remember a group of girls asking how we all knew each other, then reacting with confused politeness that I had just met them all. Random on.

Saturday, dropped off my bags at my apartment, showered, changed, good to go for about seven, dodged full-on jet lag. Went up to the hotel where they’re staying, savage place called the Mondrian. Nice setting to base a three day boozing marathon. Which started off with a bit of a sprint. Walked into the bar, a beer was waiting for me at their table. Introduced to everyone and I think before I had even sat down or sipped my drink a round of shots were called. Two different kinds. Asked how many. Ten. Of each. Which was an impressive response, and actually made me laugh an instinctive ‘ha’. However, like Eddie, this too was not a joke. ‘Good point, ten’s not enough. Make it twenty.’ Twenty shots. For one round. Pretty nuts. Not watered down special offer drinks either. Top of the range. 

The high life was a reoccurring theme. Walking into a club one of the nights, a girl just happened to ask if we wanted to go upstairs to a V.I.P suite. Apparently it cost $60, 000 to rent out for a night. A bit excessive. I didn’t really believe that it costs that much. Anyways, even if it was half that amount, that is still a chunky bit of money. Only about 12 of us in there. Probably better laugh in the main part of the club down below. Open bar made the suite worthwhile though. Help yourself. Mango vodka could be the way forward. Although, for such an expensive suite, they had no wine bottle opener. Luckily I managed to find a coat hanger. Popping open $200 bottles with it like a MacGyver Ape. 

Monday I called up to the pool to say thanks for the great two nights before. Quick hello and goodbye. I needed to get settled in. Unpack. Get my life in order. Roughly called up around one during the day. Pool. Roasting. Holiday feeling in the air? It was never going to be a quick hi and goodbye. Pretty soon I was behind the the bar in the Mondrian showing the manager how to make everyone baby guinness. Which is also when I think I may have got a DJ gig there as well. Need to follow up on that.

Morman? Merman? Mermaid?

I’d kind of forgotten how good looking the women are here in L.A. Unbelievable. Even better, I had forgotten how many good looking women there are here. Everywhere. Unreal. Anyways, got a text on Saturday from an unknown number asking if we were all still going to the pool today. No clue who from, but someone remembered that she was a good looking blonde girl from the party the night before. Blind pool date. More the merrier. Kept looking out for a good looking blonde girl. Kept seeing good looking blonde girls. Distracted by all the good looking blonde girls that none of us noticed the sound looking brunette appear out of nowhere. At least she thought I was joking when she asked did I not remember her. Eh, pardon, you’re not blond. She was actually sound though. Bit odd. Lives on a boat. Which is always a plus. I think. Anyways, that explains the mermaid reference I have in my head.

I think there are too many to figure out. I have one about a horse and a stool. About a girl with one kidney. About a flattering mirror in a certain restaurant. About an angry waiter. About apple juice. About a crutch. About two girls and a guy on a sun bed next to us. About a driver named Pam. About an orthopedic surgeon. All of which are closely linked. The list is growing. And less sense is being made. Need to get some sleep. I’ll try again tomorrow.

Although, bizarrely, there might be that random trip to Antigua to explain as well tomorrow. Flying down on a private jet. Which would be slightly random. And pretty funking nuts.  A bit long to start that description now. Might be a set back getting pre-cleared with visa and customs at such short notice though. Apparently not the same set-up as just showing up for a regular flight. Have to see, waiting on a phone call. Sense is disappearing even more. Rambling beyond belief. If the next blogaruu I do is from a Carribean island, then maybe my buddy Eddie might actually not be the weird one. The world is ending does sound more believable than my gibberish.


No Survivor – Glasnost

6 thoughts on “Big Bag Of Nuts Please

    • A few. I think. Can’t be sure if it was Rihanna or Dita Von Teese I was next to at a hotel I was in or just girls who looked like them. Eddie Griffin is the only definite, ha, and a girl who is a celebrity in the porn movies. Although I had to take her word for it.

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