Fun. Here to be had. Overflowing at times. Can too much fun be a bad thing? Eh, no. Last Thursday. Funny night. Disney rated blogaruu, so a few stories will have to wait for book two! Unless you buy me a pint someday and then I will tell you all aboot it. Oh look, you can buy me a pint. Over here -> Paid content all the way! I joke. I swear. Fun night though. When you end up in a pool with your buddy, at 5 in the morning, both wearing swimming shorts belonging to the 10 year old twins of some randomer, thinking everyone else is going swimming as well, but they’re actually not, so it’s just ye, in a freezing pool, with shorts on that fit like thongs, you know it’s a funny night. Even more so when the randomer then…
Hot & Cold
Friday was a day off. Jigging all weekend, so time for a round of folf. Folf is some way to spend the day. Sun. Fussball. Backdrop overlooking all of L.A. Mighty day. Never know who you’d meet up there either. This time, a flurry of Premiership fussballers. Sound dudes. Good 5-a-side team. Cattermole, Bramble, Bruce, Jenas, Johnson. Nay too shabby. Managed to pip them at folf though. Sweet left peg. Doing me proud for once. Anyways, the lads were heading out on their last night, invited along. New hotspot club. Troussdale. Another new hotspot in LA. More hotspots than Vesuvius. Hard to keep track of where’s hot and where’s cold anymore. Katy Perry would even struggle. Sweet Jesus I am rambling some gibberish today! Out to Troussdale, lads night out!
Whatever about the wives, footballers lives… Some life. Some laugh. Mental. Full on scene from Entourage. Table brimming with bottles of booze. People not having a clue what was going on or who anyone was. Bouncers actually bringing girls over to the table. Not sure why. Girls just standing there. Waving. Hello. Wave back. Howdy. Simpleton wave back. Smooth. Generous fussballers too, big time. Drinks all round. Keep that hands out of that pocket. Will do. Cheers lads. I shall hook ye up with a Playboy party in return. Bottles of champagne were being brought out like a round of shots. Flowing. Non-stop. Anything. Everything. Hotspot was on fire! Footballers’ lives on.
Apres Troussdale, I brought the lads to go get a few apple juices. Funny enough. Did a bit of dancing myself. Went down well. Almost got an eye taken out with a click of the heels. And then… and then it got a tad foggy. Hollywood haze. Blur and oasis beyond belief. Full on. After after party. Hotel penthouse. Asked to sing a few Irish songs. Seeing as I’m Irish. Oh. Right. Yeah. That’s my skill. Irish songs. Eh… And we played with Wild Rover, through many my ears? Everyone joins in. Tequila pipes up. Pipe down, devil! Too late. Bottoms up. Oh Jesus.
Woke up. Holy funk. Where am I? Thought I was in Ireland. Told someone I was in Ireland. Probably down to the songs. Probably believed I was. Until I looked around… Nice penthouse. This bathroom is even nicer. Comfortable too. Where am I? Beverly Hills. How will I get home? Limo limo. Yes indeed. This is the limo I ordered. Take me home please boss. What what. Goosearuu’d. All in all. Fun old night. As I said, footballers’ lives…
Shovel & A Spade
However, I have realised one thing. A lot of DJigging, since I’ve been back. Buckets of fun, since I’ve been back. What I realised though, was actually down to Ron Artest. Out on Wednesday night for a bit of sober networking at an event. Sober Joe on nights out in L.A is pretty horrendous. To be true. Not that you need drink to have fun. Not at all. More like you need drink to tolerate a lot of the people you meet out. Conversation flows one way. Or else they are talking at you. Or looking to see how big the bulge is in your. Wallet. Most folk out are having great fake fun. Not really knowing what’s going on. Sitting pretty. Looking pretty. Smiles on the outside. Bored as funk on the inside. Boring too unfortunately a lot of the time. And I know, I know. If they could understand my accent, they too would think I am as boring, if not more so. But that doesn’t matter! Because we’re all in a Hollywood club! The new hotspot! Money dripping off the walls. Off finger tips. This is so much fun! Right?! Right? Fake fun all the way! Better than no fun, I do suppose.
Anyways, Ron Artest next to me at the table. In the club. The newest place. Not Troussdale. Another place. C’mon, keep up! Ron, or Ronald as he prefers to be called, is dancing on. Living it up. Having fun. Enjoying himself. Dead right too. Champion. King of the world. Kind of. World of basketball at least. Lakers on. Made me think. Time for me to balance out all this fun. Time to get to work. Not just DJig to pay the rent. World of what I actually want to be doing. King time! With that, work is on. Stand-up date is set. July 20th. Comedy Store. Be there. Work. Starts. Now. Although. First. A brief adventure for myself. Randumb enough. Should be fun! Seeing as for the next 10 days, I shall be dancing a merry dance down in… Duu?
Young Blood – The Naked And Famous
Dj Boss me. Why? because I’m me. oh ok sorry sorry
Fake fun or no fun?
E. To. The B?