Viro – Pryda
Some balls. Not happy. Just been flagellating myself off the floor. Feel exactly like Fionn Mac Cumhaill’s son. You know… Oisin. You know… When he left Tir na nÓg on that horse. Warned not to get off. As he would die if his foot touched the ground. Then he fell off, turned into an old man and died. Tut. Fell off the horse. Kind of like me. And the writing horse. You know the one. Horse which gets bigger and bigger and seems harder to get back on the longer you stay off. So when you do try to heave yourself back up you just end up rambling on aboot a mighty old Irish myth. Exactly like Fionn. This is going well. Being back up riding a horse. Words are flowing. Tut. Time for a rant. Funking bouncers…
Cough, Shake And A Tumble
So some things which happened this week that I am not a fan of:
Coughing while walking around corners. Particularly when I then walk into someone. Attempting a spluttering apology while simultaneously coughing on them. Delectable.
Oddly designed public bathrooms. Particularly those with knee-high stall partitions, urinals next to/touching the sink and weird dudes giving me weird looks. Delightful.
Broken trollies (shopping carts). Particularly when you skip up to a trolley, push hard, attempting to jump on and say “Weeuuuu” without realising the front two wheels of the trolley are broken. Trolley to the groin. Almost ending up in one in the car park of Trader Joe’s. Dope. Fool.
All minor little incidents. One thing which actually does annoy me and has done for a while, no matter which country or where… Good old bouncers. Went to a Lakers’ game last weekend. Table booked in the Hyde Lounge part. Savage night-club style set-up in the stadium. Private box kind of thing. Nay nay. I did not yet sign a multi-million dollar sitcom deal. I did not. Yet. Nay… The Man was back in town!!! Time for a bit of VIP. High-rolling. Our own table in the box! Unfortunately, we arrived slightly late for the kick-off. Tip-off. Tomato. Pot. Kettle. Our originally booked table was gone. Why so… ? Because they were pretty much gimps on the door. The kind of apes who think you are privileged to be allowed spend so much just to be in their set-up. Is it because we’re late? No? So… Why? Just because. Dude with the clipboard. Hums. Haws. Takes time out to stare into the distance. Finally looks back at us. Let’s see what else we have…
Well we do have this one table left… Only costs… Ahem (One month’s rent). Oh Jesus. The Man gives the nod… Yeah, ok, cool, we’ll take it, thanks… Oh no, that table is actually gone. There is this other table though… Only costs… What what? How much?! (Rent*2). That’s the only table left… Ok. Cool. Giddy up…
You Should Be So Lucky
Tell us to hang on while they go get the table ready. Wait here. Wait here and let them act like muppets. High and mighty apes?! Who are ye again, Floyd Mayweather? What… No?! You’re a door man? So what’s with the world’s greatest attitude?! Imagine if my blog had a bouncer. Complete gimp of a bouncer. Up you come. Wandering along the internet. All happy. Bouncing along. Looking forward to a read. Will this adventure be any good… And then the gimp stops you. Looks you over. Dirty look. Puts his finger to his ear. Talks to his wrist. Cocks his dumb head. Doesn’t care if you are going to spend your hard earned time in here or not. After all, he is a gimp. Glances at you. Tells you he’ll let you in. But first, he just wants you to know without any shadow of a doubt that… You are so funking lucky to read this blog. Do you actually know how lucky you are? Do you?! Do you appreciate this? You better. I’m warning you. Why? Mayb because I have a small ponder pipe. And this is how I compensate… Now get inside. Read.
Ehh… Odd analogy? Let’s try this one… Imagine walking into your local over-priced fruit store. You want to buy a ridiculously over-priced pear for yourself. Pick out the pear. Go up to the counter to pay. Take out your money. And the cashier just looks at you. Files his nails and weighs you up. Do you know how lucky you are to be able to buy this pear? Do you know how nice it is of me to sell you this pear. You. Are you grateful that you get to give me 100 times more than what this pear costs?! Ape. Shut the funk up. Let me eat this pear. And go back to work. You don’t own this fruit store. You just work here. Stop trying to ruin the pear party.
Let's Call Her Connie
Moving on from the analogies which were going through my head as we waited. Pity I didn’t save a coughing incident for the bouncer. I wonder if the majority of bouncer interviews go like this…
Interviewer: So I see from your CV you have anger issues. That’s good.
Interviewer: Oh and you like to wear black! Excellent.
Interviewee: Thanks. Thank you very much. I do.
Interviewer: Just one last question…
Interviewer: Are you a gimp?
Interviewer: Welcome aboard!
Anyway, a blonde girl with a piece of wooden board in her hand comes out and looks at us. Crackles a fake smile in our direction. Eyes don’t lie, b****h. Fake smile increases even more when she realises we are the ones taking the really good table. Smiling as hard as she can. So hard, she now has a constipated looking face. As if she is sitting on the toilet with a block of cement in her stomach. Straining beyond belief. Clutching onto her horrific fake smile. Table is ready, sorry for the dela…
Finger presses on her ear. Eyes open wide. Looks at the other door man… George is coming. George is coming!!! Door man looks back… George?! Coming?! Here?! Girl looks at us… Sorry for the delay, that table is actually gone. Excuse me? Gone? How? You just said it was free and ready… That’s George’s table. Sorry. George is here. George funking who? Clooney?! Fair enough… Nay. George strolls up. Not Clooney. Looked more like George Costanza. No clue who he was. Looked like he was in computers. Either way. George was here. Table now gone. What. The. Funk? Oh looks like another table just opened up. We’re going to have to give you the table that is only worth one month of Mark’s rent. And the bottles of booze are only worth half a month each. And ye’ll take… 4? Great. And by the way. I’m still going to be a gimp. Funk your pear party. But I will give ye constipated smiles throughout. Ye’re so lucky. Follow me. Right this way…
Riding This Horse!
Rant is rambling on. Small things stick in my mind. Let’s just say, the difference in tables was 10 feet. And let’s also just say, what a difference 10 feet make. One table is at one side of the room looking out over the court. The other table is at the other side of the room. Looking at the back of the people standing up by that other table looking out at the court. Not that I really cared about watching the basketball. Just happy to be there. Just not so happy to be dealing with bizarre gimps. Mighty laugh regardless. Booze flowing. Floating about the lounge. Mingling. Dancing. Watching the game on the TV screens by our table. Lakers won. By two goals. I think. Turns out, once the game was over and they shut the curtain, turning the lounge into a nightclub, our table was apparently the best one. I know this, as Connie came over and asked us if we were staying or not as it was the best table and she could get easily get people to take it over if we were not going to finish the bottles of booze? Again… Bizarre. What are you on about Connie. Shh. Take your constipated face away. Please. Let. Us. Enjoy. The. Pears!
Jesus, I better stop. Flood gates have opened. Bouncers are a fun topic. And I know. Not all bouncers are gimps. Just the vast majority. Seriously. Think of how uncommon it is to not meet a gimp of a bouncer. And when you do meet a sound one, you remember for life: He was actually sound. Why don’t they all try it? So… Yeah. Great to be back. Wuu! Riding the writing horse. Quite an untrained flow. Time to go re-flagellate myself some more while you no doubt go thank your lucky stars that you got to read this wonderfully entertaining gibber! Ride on!!!
Walking Far From Home – Iron & Wine