Category Archives: Ireland

Umm, I Only Have One Shoe

Leave a comment

I remember back in 4th year of school when I had to do work experience. The first week a few of us managed to get to be in the same clothes shop, working together. This was ideal, obviously, seeing as we all really wanted to be clothes sales men when we grew up. The very first morning, we were waiting outside for the shop to open, it never pays to be early! Just standing around, talking about the latest Scooter song I imagine. I was standing just off the curb, kicking it gently while discussing the brilliance of the German band. Not too sure how exactly, but I managed to hit the curb at such an angle with my right shoe, that it somehow erupted my shoe open. Weirdly, the front top of my shoe flew off, so I was left with 3/4’s of a shoe, and my nice white sock.

For the entire day I felt I needed to explain to the owner and the other employees, what had happened. Over and over to them. I wanted to ensure them that I had a pair of shoes to my name. And wasn’t a pie-ball who would just show up wearing 1 and 3/4 shoes, with my sock flapping about. Although seeing as they were the only pair of shoes I did actually have, as opposed to a few pairs of runners, I had a problem. At the end of the day, I was given a lovely pair of leprechaun style shoes. Shiny black with a nice big fake silver buckle on them. And then told they would be my payment for a week’s work, whereas everyone else was going to get an expensive pair of jeans. I was gutted. And felt like a gimp in those horrific shoes. At least they did make me want to do a jig whenever I wore them.

Back to today, and I wish I had remembered that story earlier. Well the part about explaining what happened. A similar incident occurred. Kind of. I had to go to the shop earlier to buy some food for myself. As I walked into the supermarket, reaching to grab a basket, I did something. Not too sure what it was, but I clipped one foot off another i think, and kind of stumbled. Not fell, just one of the ones where you might clip a bump on the road, and fall forward, laughing it off as you look around to see who else saw your dumbness. Except there was no bump in the supermarket floor, so I think I clipped my right foot off my left foot. And managed to burst my flip-flop apart. Fully apart too, left with two parts, so no matter what I attempted, it wouldn’t stay on my foot.

So, I was left with the easy conundrum of do I keep shopping for food, with one bare foot, or go home, sort it out, and come back? Shop on, obviously. However, this is not really a beach resort area, or a climate where flip-flops are worn too often outdoors, so even wearing flip-flops as it is gets a few glances. Wearing only one, with the other one out of view in the basket, and walking with a bit of a limp/strut, gets a few more weird looks. That part was fine. The part where I met a guy I used to work with years ago, was when it got a bit dumb. Browsing the dairy isle, bumped into him, mighty small talk all the way. He had actually seen an article of mine in the paper a while back, how was all that going, get a break yet, was I still doing the blog? Not too bad, blogaruu on, small talk. Must be tough, would I not get a proper job, no? I didn’t want to seem like a bragging gimp blurting out my good news from yesterday, so stuck with the not too bad, ploughing on, we’ll see what happens.

Around this time, he noticed that I was only wearing one flip-flop. I could see him looking down, and the puzzled yet polite look come across his face, about to ask me why I was only wearing one flip-flop. At the same exact time that he asked me this, I was distracted by an unbelievably good looking girl walking by. She was ridiculously hot. Definitely not Irish. I don’t mean it in that way, calm down. Well, maybe a bit. More so, I mean seeing as she spoke Polish to her beast of a boyfriend. Or, her friendly brother. After Mexico I can never be too sure!

While she distracted me with her non fake tan ways, I answered the question with… The flip-flop broke, I only have one now. And just left it at that. I should really have explained to him that it had just broke, and was hidden underneath the milk, eggs and turkey slices in the basket. But I didn’t, I was too distracted and left it with that simple explanation. Which led to the feeling that he wanted to give me a few bob, seeing as he looked at me in a simple, pitiful kind of way. Oh right, one flip-flop, times must be tough, huh? He didn’t actually say that, but that was the look I got. Which confused me at the time. I couldn’t figure out why suddenly he was talking to me slowly and loudly. He almost ruffled my hair, as he told me to keep on going anyways, if I’m ever stuck give him a shout, he’d try to help me out with a job or something.

At the time I thought all of this was very weird, not sure where it had suddenly came from. Now though, I think I know why. And, seeing as he said he’d check out the blog, hopefully he will too! The vague, unsure answers were not cries for help, just efforts at small talk! Read yesterday’s blog! Today I found out I have another meeting next week for a different project! It’ll all be ok! It was nice to offer though all the same. Wearing one flip-flop, coupled with not having a shave in a few days, is not a good look it seems. Although it is better than what I have had to do now that my flip-flop is broken. Those leprechaun shoes are horrendous with shorts! Oh Jesus.

Video on! This video and song had me mesmerized earlier, let me know what you think actually, mixed reaction so far…

Let Yourself Feel from Esteban Diácono on Vimeo

The music in that video is by an Icelandic guy,  Olafur Arnalds. The song is called Ljósið, and if you like it as much as I do, you can get it at foundsongs.erasedtapes.com

Song from Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon and side project band, whatever it is, pretty good… 

Volcano Choir

Island, IS – Volcano Choir

Dr… Fr… Ar?

12 Comments

On a random note, people should really read more books. If not now, then maybe in a few months time perhaps. Blogs make you interesting, while books make you smart. I read that recently in a blog, by the way. Books are cool. Especially, entertaining books about gibberish. Also, on another separate random note, if doctors use Dr. and priests use Fr. in front of their names, in my opinion, authors should really start to use Ar. in front of their names. Just a thought.

Anyways, I had planned on doing a vlog to reveal the news which I got today. However, my laptop’s memory is almost full, so that plan must be put on ice. The tiredness levels are also high after my trip. I had to get up pretty early, and head to Dublin for a meeting. An hour max, more like 45 minutes, in Dublin. Then straight back home to good old Cork. However, the round-trip was well worth it! This is where I break the bad news. Bad news, seeing as it is actually good news, which in the past has proven to not be half as entertaining. Although, off the top of my head, has there ever actually been substantial, definitive good news?! More like little steps of progress. Which have all led me to today. Step 2 in my plan. Which is… I am dragging this out far too much… dun dun dun… I have a book deal!!! Wuu huu!

A few weeks back I met with, whom I can now call my, publishers, about writing a book. I am not too sure if I mentioned that in the blog at the time. Probably seeing as, in one way, meetings do mean something, I suppose, but at the same time they mean little until whatever it is, is definite. Take my meetings with RTE, for example. Anyways, that was a few weeks back. Today the details for the book deal were ironed out and the arrangement was finalized. 10 books, $1.5 million sign on fee, and a movie deal in the pipeline. Good deal, I think. It is amazing how knowledgeable and adept Mahalo and Google can make you appear! Now I can sit back and relax. I have made it. My work here is done. I joke. Especially seeing as I still have to actually finish the book.

I wont lie, hearing plans for your own book, is funking cool. Still a bit off, but talking about the cover, the title, the artwork, mock-ups, tying up the story arcs, the foreword, the marketing, the promotions, the book, your book, my book, is cool. Book fairs, the different regions and countries to launch the book in, prequels, sequels, trilogies, plus, obviously, the groupies that come with a book, and the invites to the Playboy mansion which should start flooding in my door any day now. If you ever want to see a publisher shift nervously in their seat, mention their favourite word… Advance! I presume as well that the royalties will be the equivalent of a number 1 Christmas song, “Fairy Tale of New York” kind of thing. Dan Brown just rang to congratulate me. I could tell he was freaked with the new competition though. I presume as well that this automatically makes J.K Rowling my new best friend? Obviously.

In case you are wondering, the 2 main things people have said to me when I told them the good news, are… 1 – “How much do you get paid?” Very surprising question, especially from Irish people. It is common knowledge that you write a book to get rich, quick. And, number 2 – “Put me in the book. Seriously, just mention my name once, somewhere.” Even a buddy, who I suspect might never had read the blog, has rang me 3 times already with that request. At least to put him in the appendix. A final weird comment I got, was being asked if it was going to be a hardback or softback book? When I told them I had no clue, didn’t even think of it at this stage, they just tutted, and said if it wasn’t a hardback, must not really be that good. So true. Tut.

All jokes aside, the best part of the book deal, is having physical evidence of progress. From now on when people ask “Who are you? What have you done?” I can at least say, I’m the idiot who wrote this international best seller. This will at least spur me on for another good while, baby steps are being made! Plus, it raises the profile. Bouncing ball kind of thing. Already talks were had about other avenues to explore, in preparation for the book release (clear your spring schedule). Overall, it was a good day. I now have two things to occupy my mind for the next few months. What will be the first sentence and the last sentence. Not sure why, ha, but thats what I thought about on the way home. Pressure is on!

Two songs, first one just came on my iTunes and haven’t heard it in a while…

Jimmy Eat World

The Middle – Jimmy Eat World

Second is one a buddy has flogged to me a few times, and it is pretty class in fairness…

Gui Boratto

Beautiful Life – Gui Boratto

Hop, Skip & A Dump

Leave a comment

Stop start kind of day really. Or is it start stop? Humidity might have been a factor. Mugginess is a killer. I like to think thats the reason why I can get irritable and headaches pop up when ever it is about. More than likely it is all in my head though. Which is true either way really. Managed to line up another few potential DJ gigs to keep me ticking over for the next few weeks. Plus I have started working on plans for where to live, work, pursue acting/writing and other such wonderful stuff, in anticipation for my return to L-Hey, whenever that might be. Oh, and I fell down a stairs. Kind of. The last few steps of a stairs at least. And took a nice hop off the floor when I did.

At the gym earlier, Boris wasn’t being too full on as he usually has been, which was good. I think it is because a few of his buddies seemed to be there as well. Seeing as I only had under an hour before the gym closed, I was racing through a few leg exercises, far too quickly really. Not recommended when doing squats. Between the humidity, and flying through the gym, I was a beaten docket as I left. At the same time I was leaving one section of the gym, I spotted Boris sticking his head out of the other part, and making his move as I departed. With this in mind, I bounded down the stairs. Stupid call really. It has happened a few times, where I have forgotten how dodge my legs are after squats, and nearly tumbled. As I briskly made my way down the two flights of stairs tonight, the last few steps were literally a step too far.

Dodgy left knee buckled first, should really get that checked out. Flimsy right leg followed. Thankfully I managed to break my fall by nicely hopping my shoulder off the ground, and ended up in a heap at the end of the stairs. Just lying there. At the front door. Panned out. Like a weak, defeated flower. Feeling fairly wrecked, and wondering if I had done any damage, I decided to just lie there for a minute, and suss out any potential injuries. A minute feels way longer when lying down on the ground in public. I might have lay there for longer, until I heard others coming down the stairs. Not wanting to surprise or shock Boris by having me passed out on the floor, waiting for him to scoop me up and carry me to my car, I brushed myself down, realizing only my pride and shoulder had been bruised, and off I went.

I’ll cleverly skip the part about the what is going on tomorrow. Let’s just say that hopefully my round trip to Dublin will all be worthwhile. Which would make a welcome change! If you remember my plan I wrote about before, that will give you a clue. In fact, it might merit another wonderful Vlog tomorrow to mark the occasion, which would be a bit ironic. A weak link to skip but it will have to do!!!

While I was lining up DJ gigs earlier today in town, I happened to bump into a girl I half know. And by that, I mean I dont know the half that has her name. Anyways, while I was talking to her, or listening to her complain to be exact, I noticed myself drifting away, and instead just looking in complete wonder at different parts of her body. Not in a sexual way, oh dear Lord no. In a completely bewildered way. Seeing as I think it was the first time I have seen her in the cold light of day, I only today noticed how her hands, feet, face, neck and ears were all different colours. I admit that I might be a bit obsessed with fake tan. As in my dislike and disdain for it. Still though, when someone’s skin changes from orange, to kind of green, to patchy white, back to speckled orange, I can’t really be the one who is odd for noticing it. I have forgotten how unforgiving the cold light of day can be!

However, by far the worst part had to have been the smell. Maybe I was just unfortunate to be standing down wind from her. It is chronic though. I was at least a foot away from her today. Actually, thats almost on top of each other now I measure a foot out with my hands. Say 3 feet. And I could still get the smell of a weekend old fake tan. At this stage, I prefer the smell from the dump, than that of fake tan. I would say I prefer the smell of someone’s dot dot dot, but thats just weird either way you look at it. Not something you’d really prefer to anything. Only the smell from the bathroom in the old bus station in Cork, and puke, are worse now for me. Just in case you were wondering. I am sure you were dying to know how much I do not like the orange curry powder.

Wrap it up, the heading probably outshone the rest of the blogaruu! Seeing as I am tired, time for a chilled song…

Sufjan Stevens

Casimir Pulaski Day – Sufjan Stevens

Boris, My Hungarian Stalker?

Leave a comment

On Saturday, two things of note occurred. First, unfortunately I had to go to a funeral. However, it was honestly one of the more upbeat funerals I have been to. At the end everyone in the congregation sang a song, When Irish Eyes Are Smiling. Initially I tried to play the cool card, and not sing. Instead shrugging my shoulders to say I would if I could but I don’t know the words. However, a kind lady next to me gave me a sheet with the lyrics. Then looked at me until I actually started to sing along, and not just mime the words. So sing on I did.

While taking pointers from the priest’s sermon technique for my own stand-up act, one good bit of advice stood out for me. The priest was quoting a Spanish writer I think, and mentioned something along the lines of… “You will not be remembered for your secret thoughts. Go out and do it.” I might have added on the second part, not too sure. Still though, I thought it was good. Instead of thinking about X, Y and Z all the time, yet just doing A, B or C, do those things you have in your head. Don’t hold back. You will be remembered for your actions, kind of thing. 

After the funeral, I decided to go to le gym. Saturday afternoon, nice and quiet in there, happy days. Well, just one other person in there it seemed. Not so happy after all. You might remember a few blogaruus back, I mentioned a weird Polish dude who I thought was chatting me up in there before. Couldn’t be sure, but it was bizarre, asking me for my number, and looking to meet up. Well, he was the only other dude in the gym with me on Saturday. And, I was wrong, turns out that he is, in fact, Hungarian, my bad. However, my other first impressions were correct. Bit of a nut. Might also be a stalker. Not too sure.

I was told before that when doing improv, always say yes to any question you are asked, to keep the scene flowing. I would recommend that if you are ever talking to someone who you suspect might be a nutter, always answer no to whatever they ask you. Unless you want to see what happens. Stupidly, I made the mistake of answering yes to… “Are you going out tonight?” Eh, yeah, I’d say so. “Where? Me too, we should meet. I am fun to go out with.” Ok. Em, I am actually working, now that I think about it. “Are you DJ’ing the music? I will come listen to you. Maybe, I will dance as well.” Not too sure yet where I am working, I’ll let you know, I’ll talk to you later on. “Ok, give me your number, and I will ring you.” I’ve no phone. “Everyone has a phone.” I meant, I have no Irish phone, I’m using my American one. “Ok, give me that number later on, we can dance.”

Trying to move on, I stuck my iPod back on. This did not deter him from the pointless chat. Not in the slightest. No matter how many times I pointed at the earphones, he kept on asking me oddly phrased questions. What was my favourite top song? What song did I not like at all? The last CD I bought? Could I make a mixed CD for him? And one for his friend. And another one for a girl he lives with. 3 CDs in total. No problem buddy! He would write out a list of 10 to 30 songs, and I could just put them together for him. When he asked about a CD initially, I actually said yeah, cool, ok, leave me be so, just to be polite and try to appease him so he’d leave me alone. The 30 song request and the way he looked like he thought I would do it, made me tell him to just do it himself. This led to him launching into how the police would catch him downloading the songs, and send him home to Hungary. It had happened to his friend. Sure it did.

At this stage, I told him I was going over to the other side of the room, gym was closing soon, must plough on. “What are you working out today?” I don’t know, my upper left shoulder blade perhaps. “Me too, I will join you.” Actually, I’m going to do my Achilles heels altogether. “You can show me what to do, I need to work them out as well.” Have you ever had a weird dude sitting next to you, staring at you in the mirror in front of both of ye, while working out? Strangely, there is an up-side. It is the best motivation ever. You fly through stuff, just so you can get it over with, and get the funk away from him as quickly as possible. It was a weirder than average staring technique too. Shoulders slumped, head drooped down, yet looking up at me. Just bizarre. God only knows what secret thoughts he was thinking, especially when he would give me a weird smirk every now and again. 

After racing through all the shoulder blade and Achilles exercises I could think of, Boris conveniently gave me a window of opportunity to bunk, by telling me he was going to get his phone, so he could take down my American number. Cool Bor, I’ll be here. He disappeared around the corner, I headed for the exit. Stupidly, I didn’t drive away straight off though when I got into my car. Replied to a text, made a quick call. Then, I started to drive home. As I was pulling out of the car park, I happened to notice the guy in the car behind me, head drooped down, shoulders hunched, cap pulled down. Was that Boris? Looks like Boris. Oh Jesus. Decided to take the long scenic route home. Just in case. The car followed me along the same route. Oh Jesus.

Being honest, I couldn’t actually be fully sure if it was him or not. Still though, better safe than sorry. Did I drive past the turn for my house as a precaution? Obviously. Did I then go around the roundabout by my house twice, to confuse whoever it was? Obviously. It worked. Short term anyways. That stare did look a bit psychotic. Might make out that 30 song mixed CD, just in case. Better safe than sorry. Probably too early to call him a stalker as well. At least a bit of randomness is back in town, wuu huu. 

New band, Local Natives, two songs…

Local Natives

Airplanes – Local Natives

Cecilia (Cover) – Local Natives

Winner

Leave a comment

If you ever want to feel like a true winner, wake up on a Monday morning with a hangover. What a winning feeling that is, too much fun. A great way to start the week. Only way is up, I do suppose. The blogaruu has been silent for the past few days, so time to catch up in one swift, foul swoop. Back on the road to productivity. I’ll start with my stand-up gig on Thursday.

I must admit, the gig was special. Really special. Not sure what it was exactly. But it was special. Do you know when everything just works out to a tee? You couldn’t plan it better if you tried. It was as if the earth aligned with the comedy moon, and everything just fell into place. New material and jokes were told with aplomb. Punch lines were delivered with panache. People clapping, standing ovations, crying out for more. Jokes that you think might be a bit dodge or 50-50, turn out to be unbelievably well received. Unfortunately, it was not one of those nights. Nowhere near. By special I mean horrendous. It was bad. Technically, it was actually funny. Just not the kind of funny I was aiming for. One those nights, where nothing goes to plan. Probably because I never had a plan to begin with.

It was probably the busiest night in there so far, maybe 100 people. I know, huge, stadium gigs might have to be the next port of call. It seemed to me as if the crowd were mostly new faces I had not seen before, so I decided I would open with a few of my new “jokes”, then fall back on my old reliables of life in L.A to finish on a high note. Whenever I watch the acts on before me, I’ve realized that all I am doing is hoping they wont tell jokes or stories similar in any way to mine. Thats it. Couldn’t really care if they’re funny or not. Just as long as they steer clear of what I have lined up, they’ve done well in my eyes. Seeing as I have practiced a bit of material based on life in L.A, I decided I would try out some new stuff about what it is like being home in Ireland. Along the lines of how much fun it is back here, comparing here and there, and how big a winner in life I am just waiting in limbo land for my visa. Those kinds of hilarious angles.

The acts on before me got a few laughs, nothing major. However, there was a girl whose act was a bit to similar to mine for my liking. As in she mentioned a few incidents in L.A, saying L.A a lot, as if to rub it in that she was marking her territory before I went up. Not that she had a clue of my act or anything, but it seemed like that to me when that was my selling point. A few of her jokes ran a bit too parallel to mine, confusion and dumbness, so I had to go with my new material now no matter what. The material that was still in the idea stage, yet to have been developed as far as punch lines. That top dollar material I had up my sleeve. Dumbly, I convinced myself I would think of the big bang punch lines when I was up on stage. As you do.

Straight off, messed up the first joke, mocked myself, without giving a back story as to why I was mocking myself, and messed up joke number one. Good start. Moved on to saying how delightful Irish girls and their love of fake tan are, went down like a lead brick. Oh Jesus. Dirty looks from girls in the crowd. Tried to compare them to an orange version of the Blue Man Group. No one seemed to have a clue who they were, must be an American thing only, cue more silence. (Here they are to give you a reminder. I think I might start to use a projector in future to explain my jokes. Which is a great sign.)

Blue Man Group

Thought I might move on to relationships and couples in Ireland, asking one couple in the crowd about a certain topic. Bad idea. If the guy answered truthfully, and laughed, he would be in the bad books with his girlfriend. So, instead he shrugged his shoulders, didn’t commit either way, and ruined my point. Cue more silence. Thankfully, at this stage, a guy in the crowd started shouting something up to me. Heckling I think its called. The thankful part was that he was foxy, and a gimp, so at least I got a few laughs mocking him and his big red target on his head. Seeing as I was getting a few chuckles now, I decided it was time for the old reliable sure fire stories. Unfortunately, it was not happening for me. Gay horse and accompanying story was not well received. Which is my jolly banker!

At this stage, I made the executive decision, that there was only one thing to do. Made the right call, enough was enough, lets end this now. Well, after I tried to have some banter with two drunk Dutch guys in the crowd first. In German. In German? Obviously enough, that went down well. A quick Auf Wiedersehen, and that was that. Overall, a special performance. My HBO Special should be in the pipeline soon. Although, on an ironic note, it was the most I have been paid for a stand-up gig. And, the guy in charge loved it, and booked me again for next week straight away. He must like seeing me bomb. Bomb on!

Blogaruu is long enough, so I won’t start on my bit about the Hungarian stalker I think I have, or the mix tape scenario that is developing, I’ll keep it for tomorrow. You must be so funking excited!!!

Seeing as the video is pretty cool, Strawberry Swing by Coldplay.

And one more, for a mighty Monday

Man In The Mirror

3 Comments

Being honest, I had a blogaruu half written out before I decided I had to restart it from scratch. Thankfully, it was cut loose. Perhaps these few selected sentences will make clear as to why… “L.A.D kicked in big time this weekend. As opposed to S.A.D (seasonal affective disorder), location seems to be my problem”… “This was not just a hangover, this was a slump”… “Literally, the sight of myself in the mirror on Saturday almost made me sick.” Ha, the whole thing was just getting me more annoyed reminding myself of the past couple of uneventful days, so it had to be changed.

Lets just say I had a gloriously average weekend at best, where besides a bit of writing, not too much happened, and which I am looking forward to moving on from. Perhaps I might be feeling a bit frustrated at the moment. Which is where the title stemmed from. I’ll keep it as a souvenir to make sure I know who it is that can solve my issues!

To inject a bit of humour, here’s a funny man to start again with…

Moving on, one thing which has become quite apparent while I have been home, is how atrocious radio stations in Ireland have become (maybe always were?). Not all of them, all of the time, but the majority of them, the majority of the time. In my opinion at least. Unfortunately I left my iTrip in L.A, so every time I drive here, I make the same mistake. Well, two mistakes. First is forgetting to burn a CD to bring along with me. The main one, however, is that I keep giving the radio one last chance. And time and time again, it makes me want to bite my ears off. It is brutal! Music wise anyways, the chat shows are fine, you know what to expect from them. It is the generic, bland, horrific music that is played 90% of the time which is so annoying to me. Different stations playing the same horrendous songs that in 3 weeks people will not even remember the name of. When did it get so bad?

The worst part is similar to a scene in Family Guy, where they mock a station that plays a jingle for a good few minutes, telling you the name of the station. Then the jingle keeps going for another minute or two. On Saturday, while driving along, I noticed that one station claimed to play a fit of 6 songs in a row, uninterrupted. Probably 6 crap songs, but still, uninterrupted was the big factor. Supposedly. Bar the presenter saying a few sentences between each song. And the few ads scattered here and there. Oh, plus the jingle… “Uninterrupted, UNINTERRUPTED, music without interruptions” and so on, for at least half a minute. Which was highly head wrecking. Especially when the songs that were then played seem to be tailored only for a hen party crowd. Which is fine, I suppose, if you’re on a hen and listening to the radio at the same time. Otherwise, it is torture. 

Night time radio at least has some variety. However, day time radio must be a rising source of road rage in people these days. Or is it just me? Screaming at the radio for just one good song without an annoying ape talking through it. I’ve tried going down the route of turning the radio off fully as well. However, this just leads to an odd silence in the car, a vacuum. Which feels like it should be filled with some sort of noise. Sing a song perhaps. Or else you could just start talking to yourself. Which is odd, when somebody next to you in traffic asks what song you’re singing, and you tell them the truth “No song, just talking to myself about the current plight of the radio.” Kind of weird, when they realize you’re not joking.

Now that I read back over this attempt, it is clear that I might just be using Irish radio to vent out frustrations I have in other areas. At least the first attempt made sense, in a way. As opposed to this puke-like effort. Anyways, like all other frustrations I might be encountering at the moment, it will just have to be dealt with. Suck it up. Stop being a bitch. And bring back the week, more constructive things outside my control can potentially occur.

Best part of the weekend might have been watching Louis Theroux on BBC tonight, about his show on meth addicts in California. Watching that has made me realize that I may have met a few more meth heads myself back in L.A, than I might have initially thought. Which is good to know. Plus, I read yesterday about a serial killer who seems to have resurfaced in L.A, and is on another rampage. The grass is far greener.

A song to wrap this mess up…

Simian Mobile Disco

Cruel Intentions – Simian Mobile Disco (Feat. Beth Ditto)