Remember hearing aboot a fussball player for Rangers who burnt his cheek after scrambled egg exploded on him? Or when Robbie Keane somehow injured himself by reaching for the TV remote? Well. Thank funk I’m not a well known fussball player. Both have happened to a certain ape I know. Along with a few more this week. Twisted my ankle by tripping on mud. During a game tonight. But still. Wasn’t actually tackled by another player. Just a big lump of mud. Well done me. Just a minute ago. Almost twisted my knee. In the kitchen. Reaching for some pepper. Twisted my upper body. As opposed to swiveling aboot. Close call. Tweakage. Again. Nearly a well done. On Monday. Pretty sure I managed to re-break my broken toe. When I clipped a loose slab sticking out of a path. Clipped. Tripped. Just as I went to walk down a red carpet. Almost rolled. Well done me. Fun times. Red carpet rolling.
Speaking of carpets. Pointless story. 4th year of school. Work experience. Did one week in a carpet shop. Myself and a buddy. Last minute affair. Owner lumped us off with the delivery guy. Who was not a fan of my buddy and I. In fairness we were wrecking his head. Kept changing the radio channel. Every 30 seconds. Eventually he pulled in. Side of the road. Middle of nowhere. Asked us both to check if the back tires on the van were ok. Thought they were flat. Out we jumped. Off he drove. P. Rick. Probably would’ve done the same. Fun times at the carpet shop. Regency Interiors. Still owe us for the week too. Elephants never forget. Call me Dumbo.
So that was my first and only previous stand out carpet memory. Before this week at least. Besides a few burns. What what. Oh Jesus. Swiftly back to Monday. First red carpet event I’ve actually been to here in L.A. VH1’s Do Something Awards. My buddy was one of the talking heads being shown during the show. (Nominees names would be read out. Short clip about what they have done to be up for the award. Talking head). Asked me along. Better to go. Than not to go? Is what I was told. Cool. Sounds good. Should be fun. What time should I be ready? One? As in 1 pm? As in really early. O… k? Need to collect the tickets before three. Traffic in Hollywood. Nice and early. One bell. Picked up. Traffic not so bad. Only bad thing was the heat. Maybe being dressed up in proper clothes during the day. Going out clothes. Sweat. Dripping. Sweet Jesus. Can’t survive. Collect the tickets. Not even 2 o’clock. Show doesn’t begin until 6. Red carpet at 5. Three hours. Way too long to kill. Neither of us boozing. What should we do? Ehh… Go home? Change? Not look like sweating pedophiles who can’t hack wearing jeans during the day? Change on!
Home. Stripped. Clothes off. A/C on. Boxers. Lounging. Two hours of chilling in my freezer box apartment. Now. Let’s try again. Picked back up. Back to Hollywood. Park up. Stroll to the venue. Spot the entrance for the red carpet. Buddy was asked to do the red carpet walk. PR person asked who I was. Ehh. An Irish author. DJ. And dancer. Ok? Shur I’ll just do the whole red carpet thing as well with my buddy. Yeah? Yeah… ? Dance on! Now about 5.30. Thought we were late. Actually perfect. Seems we arrived same time as a few big names. Just about to go do the stroll and let paparazzi scream at us for photo posing… American Idol judges show up. Skipped ahead of us. Fair enough. All look plastic. Still. Away ye go.
Now. Our turn. Paparazzi with their cameras ready. Cluelessly trying to figure out who we are. Just about to stroll on. Clip. Trip. Did they see that? Doubtful. As one of the Jonas dudes arrives. Must go ahead of us. Bumped. Again. And then again. Natasha Bedingfield. And again. Christina Applegate. And again. Some other girl? And.. and again… ?! Come on PR dude. Time is ticking… oh, as in with two G’s? Snoop, work away bud. My bad. Particularly as you have an absolute monster of a security dude with you. And I do mean a monster. Should be in WWE, type of monster. Snoop strolls on. On we go after him. Well. After getting bumped one more time for some other girl that I’ve no clue who it was but looked identical to at least three others before her. She gets herded along. Go on the cows. Snoop is being interviewed. So is a Jonas. Which is why I think there should be footage. Of my buddy and I. Two cows. Entering the red carpet area. Standing in front of the paparazzi. All with their cameras ready. Screaming ‘Who are you?! WHO ARE YOU?!!!’ Ehh. Mark. And. Benny.
Eric Lenny, Strike A Pose...
PR lady comes trundling up. ‘WHO ARE YOU?!! WHO ARE YOU?!! WE NEED NAMES FOR THE PHOTOS!!!’ Hubbulla, Mark and Benny, hubbulla. Screams back to the paparazzi… ‘ERIC LENNY?! Dancers?’ Paparazzi look at each other. Shrug shoulders. No longer care. Two take sympathy photos of the dance duo, Eric Lenny. Wahey. Go on the pap smears! Here’s one of me giving ye a thumbs up. Wuu. And here is one with my other thumb. Duu. Tried to subtly mosey over to where the interviews were going on after that. No doubt they wanted to hear me gibber about… my blogaruu perhaps. No doubt. Except Snoop’s monster was blocking my way. Unbeknownst to him. Tapped him on the shoulder. Excuse me Goliath. Turned around. Looked down at me. Ehh, howdy. Just trying to squeeze through there budd… Actually. How tall are you? Glared down at me… ‘Seven foot’ No way! You look taller! Are you sure? Seven foot. On the button or which… ? One response was all I was getting. Just glares at me. Time for Eric Lenny to carry on inside.
Inside we go. No clue what to expect. Informed that the free bar closes at 6. Seriously? Not that I’m boozing. Focused and all that. Monday day and all that. But what time of day is that to close a bar. Particularly a free one. Inside to the main room. Get shown to our seats. What strikes me is that the seats are kind of crap. Not where we were sitting. The actual chairs. A lot cheaper than I would’ve thought. For an awards show. Remember the chairs in school. Not the wooden sore ones. The better plastic kind of ones. Like them. Maybe I’m just an ape. Thought they might’ve been a bit better than those though. Cinema seats or something. Nay. School chairs. Awards kick off. Presenter comes on. Actress from Glee. Introduces the show. Tells us what it’s all aboot. Which was handy. Seeing as I had no clue whatsoever until that point.
To Do Something. Is A Good Idea.
Actually a good awards show. Good organisation. Basically. Awarding people who have done something good. Celebs. Regular folk. All the regular folk were doing savage work. Helping communities. Countries. People in need. Selfless work. Some of the celebs were doing good work as well. In fairness to Snoop, he does a fair bit one might not expect. Can’t remember others but a few more were doing mighty work as well. And then Kathy Griffin went on. And said something extremely unfunny. And kept saying how she is so offensive. Or that she was. And said something else unfunny. And everyone laughed. Which was the only thing I found offensive. And then some guy from Twilight came on. Talking about dogs. Which was all good. Until he made some sexual innuendo about dogs. And it all got a bit weird from then on in. Glee won an award in the Do Something TV Show Category. What did it do? Ehh… it’s… a show on TV. Whereas the likes of American Idol actually raises millions and millions for charity, or a few others do likewise, Glee won just for it being a show on TV that had characters in it that you might not usually see on TV. Ok. Well done.
Being honest. Plenty more annoyed me about the show. Ad breaks were every two minutes. Introduce the show. Ad. Sing a song. Ad. Present an award. Ad. And so on. Highly boring. Sheep mentality also kicked in. Suddenly everyone started to get standing ovations. Sheep. Someone comes on to present an award. Standing up. Sitting down. Glee wins for just being a show? Standing up. Sitting down. For funk’s sake… And so on. Puppets. Muppets. Sheep. When it was for the people who did something of note, no worries. Standing up just for show, ape ish. Although the majority of the audience seemed to be mostly made up of complete apes. Good looking fools. Unbridled enthusiasm. For nothing. False as funk. Fake clapping. Fake fun. Although maybe that’s a bit harsh. In fairness, they were mostly just being happy Emericanos. Nothing wrong with that. What actually made me think that the majority of them were apes and that the whole thing was a complete funking joke, was this…
Ken And Barbie. Well Done.
The main prize of the night was for the ‘Regular Folk’ category. Last person to be introduced out of the finalists was a girl from Rwanda. Her whole family was slaughtered in a genocide. Along with millions more. And now she travels the world giving talks trying to educate people about the brutal genocide of the past. In hope of preventing them from ever occurring again. Unreal. As in holy funk. That’s a different level. Unreal story. Walks up to the stage. Standing ovation. Clapping. Starts to give her speech. Short speech too. But just as she starts to speak, people start to sit down. Tuning out. False as funk.
If you were to actually care about what she had to say, you wouldn’t sit down and make noise while she was speaking. Sheep. All sit down. Two clowns next to me talking to each other after zoning out. I overhear Ken saying ‘I like Africa. I sooo want to go for a week.’ While Barbie next to him replies… ‘Yeah. I love her dress.’ While she’s on stage telling us how her family were slaughtered, that’s what ye talk about?! After ye both almost cried when Glee won?! And I know. I just gibbered about carpets and chairs for the past 1700 words. The last person to say anything about priorities or bigger picture. But still. That annoyed me. Buckets.
Anyways. Moving on. Brush those annoying aspects under the red carpet. That was my first award show. First red carpet. And. Until I am up for an Oscar. Probably my last. Sound of my buddy to invite me along. Just couldn’t hack a crowd full of Kens and Barbies again though. Didn’t actually even intend to write about any of that. Knew a rant would come if I did. Just start to scribble out some gibber while I waited on my stand up video from the other night to upload. And it has just failed once again. Mighty work. Video shall have to wait. Hopefully tomorrow. Until then. Rant off. Song on…
Twenty Five Miles – Edwin Starr
LA is a soul graveyard and you’ll go under if you’re not careful. it’s comforting to see that you are still counted among the vulnerable living. if and when you start to feel yourself going cold, hitch a ride up north and come see me; i’ll beat the apathy out of you until you remember how to bleed. xo
That song was a soul reference too to be true, ha, not sure if that was or would be picked up on! Great story. Soul on. Beat me to a bloody pulp. I shall keep it in mind.