Category Archives: Random Ramblings

Stand Up, Knocked Down

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With my stand-up debut looming tomorrow, I decided I would spend the entire day, gathering and putting together all my random notes and material, for my 5 minute act. It was going to be a productive day. Until I started to realize a few key aspects. First one, and I think this could be crucial to my success as a stand-up comedian, is that I am fairly brutal at telling jokes. As in horrific. This is what my usual two line joke turns into… I start off telling my great joke. Which is then greeted by silence, a lack of laughter. So, I presume that the person did not hear me the first time around, or wasn’t paying attention. So I tell it again. They actually did hear me first time, I am told, they just didn’t get it/didn’t think it is funny. I plough on, determined to get a laugh, so I explain out the joke, why it actually is funny, highlighting the important words, catch phrases and key aspects of the two line joke. And the whole thing ends with just me laughing at the joke, on my own. I personally think all my jokes are brilliant. Then again, every mother also thinks their baby is beautiful, no matter what.

Another stumbling block is the time frame. The above scenario usually lasts 5 minutes, so time wise it is spot on. However, I am looking for laughs, so I must make sure I move swiftly on and have enough material to cover myself if and when the first signs of bombing occurs. Thankfully, I now have a back-up plan – singing the Irish national anthem, should kill a few minutes at least, and how many people in the crowd will actually know Irish anyways. Actually, with my luck, it’ll be Irish night so they all will.

I decided to test out two potential opening lines on my roommates. At least I got a consistent response. First time around, I could see that they did not understand one word I had just wasted on them. Apparently my comedic accent descends into complete gibberish to the untrained ear. Secondly, after I re-told them the jokes, I could see them still actively listening, waiting for me to tell them the punch lines. The ones I had already delivered. Oh Jesus. So, to finish off the three stages of my joke telling process, I explained why they were actually funny, only to be told “Oh God, don’t use them, try something else”. Oh yeah, I have a cupboard full of great opening lines, let me just fish one out! Looks like I’ll be opening with my line about having sex with a pig on Spring Break in Mexico. That snippet reads far funnier than the joke actually sounds. Actually, that’s it, that is the whole joke. Oh Jesus.

If only I could bring situations, and daily encounters with people, up onto the stage with me, at least they provide some humour. Earlier this morning, while making some coffee, I realized I had ran out of sugar. Luckily for me, my ridiculously hot neighbour, the Neighbour girl, was walking by my window with her laundry. Superb, I’ll ask her for some sugar, she’ll invite me over, sparks will fly and Bob’s your uncle. Out I rush, hi, sorry, excuse me, can I ask you for a favour? Going well so far, I hadn’t mentioned s**t or rubbish yet, unlike the last time I tried my luck. At this point, I should perhaps mention that I am a weird old ape when it comes to eating healthy, so I in fact don’t use sugar, but the healthier, more womanly sugar substitute known as Splenda. This was to be my downfall… Any chance I could borrow some sugar from you please? I’ll pay you straight back, I swear, haha, I’m so witty… “Yeah, sure, no problem, just come over to my hous…” Actually, I meant Splenda if you have that, I don’t actually use sugar, do you have Splenda? “Splenda? Haha, no, sorry, try the two guys in there” and nods towards where two gay guys live. The job. The haha was not with me either, it was more down and at me, with a shake of her head, and a look of “What kind of woman are you?” I’ll be the one laughing in the long run with my no calorie sweetener! And yes, the answer to your look is that I do have womanly attributes.

Needing to get out of the house after that, and away from my little hub of stagnant comedy, I hit the gym. Started off well in there. In the bathroom beforehand, seeing as all the stalls were taken, I knocked on one of the cubicle doors to see if someone was actually in there. I was greeted by the reply of “Occ-u-pied” not by one, but two guy’s voices, lovely. At least I figured out why I like to DJ/Genius in there too even though I don’t get paid. 5% of the reason would be that I actually like playing the music to an audience, of some sort. 95% of it though, is down to the fact I love compliments! Who doesn’t? Even if I get heckled off the stage tomorrow, I’ll take it as a compliment that they at least understood my accent well enough to decide that the jokes were horrific.

So, when a girl (makes a pleasant change) came up to me in the gym today saying that she loved the music I played the other day, what was the name of the Spanish song I played (I didn’t play any Spanish song but we’ll ignore that minor detail), and I was way better than the DJ playing right now, my head swelled up nicely enough for me to want to go back this week and play a few more gems I am after finding. I had not even realized there was a DJ playing at the time, bland enough if I do say so myself. However, he did have a mountain of equipment set up in front of him, as opposed to my all-in-one equipment of my laptop, so he did look the part. Dodgy remixes over bland any day of the week though!

Enough of that side-tracking so I can tell you how I think I am better than DJ Bland, I presume he is getting paid to play gigs elsewhere. It was on the way home where the fun happened. As I am coming up to the major intersection between my house and the gym, I saw my buddy, the homeless dude who makes more money than I do, with his back to me, shouting and ranting at the traffic. Seeing as we were now buddies, I presumed he would find it funny if I played the old school boy trick of tapping his right shoulder, while standing behind him to his left. He would turn and look to his right, only to have been fooled by me! Silly him! No, silly me.

I tap his right shoulder, and stand to his left. How he knows, I don’t know, but he instinctively swings to his left and clocks me in the right ear. I was not expecting this to say the least, so stumble back a bit, reeling from the shock. Full on belt too, painful enough. Although, the sheer embarrassment far outweighed any pain. When he realizes he is not being attacked, he stops the ranting and shouting he had continued on from the cars. He starts to apologize(ish), thought he was being attacked. I start to apologize for scaring him, meant to be a joke, nice right hook you have, sort of thing. I blame the blow to the head for my next action, as when he rattles his tin bucket at me, I end up giving him the only bit of money I had on me, trying to buy his forgiveness? Either way, it was a $5 note I could’ve done with, thats $6 he owes me now! Not sure if I’ll get it back though, here was his reply when I broached the subject…

 

Homeless Buddy

Hopefully the audience tomorrow won’t give me the same response during my debut! Stand-up on!!!

Here’s a song to get me pumped for it before I go on!!! Chelsea Dagger by The Fratellis

Time Of The Month… Again?!!!

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Finally, I can empathize with women. Once a month, every month, I too feel your pain, we have it tough sisters! Roughly, around this time of the month, give or take a few days, I start to get headaches, feelings of anxiety, restless nights, sweaty palms, irritable, mood swings, the whole nine yards that girls go through. My diagnosis, however, is not related to the painters calling around, so to speak. My problem is linked more to the landlord, and when it is that he will call around. The symptoms I suffer from, are brought on by the impending and looming matter of rent, and payment there of.

These headaches have being getting even worse lately. This is directly related to me living the life of a pauper, a life which, I must admit, I am finding hard to cope with. Previous floundering of my money on luxury items, such as Red Bull and the Coffee Bean, has been seriously curtailed, cutting off my steady supply of caffeine. My head has been throbbing lately. Last night I got in a full blown fist fight, with a washing machine, for swallowing 5 of my precious quarters so that I could not dry my clothes. I put up a good (-ish) fight, but the machine easily won in the end, leaving me drained and close to tears. Great fun sleeping in damp sheets and on a damp pillow! Especially when it is that time of the month again!

Perhaps the worst part of all this, is that instead of trying to lessen my headaches, anxiety, cramps, bloating feeling etc brought on from rent, or lack of, by doing something productive, I still insist on doing jobs such as DJ’ing – a job that I do not, and will not, get paid for. Yesterday, I decided not to try and earn money, not to try and focus on my writing and the sitcom, not to do something that will help me on the acting side of things, but to go up to the gym and DJ. My payment being compliments only, majority of which would be from dudes, what kind of funking ape am I?!!! Why bother?

Firstly, I should clarify and reiterate the whole me being a DJ situation. Some people have taken this the wrong way (you’re not a DJ, don’t insult me, I am a DJ, you need to use vinyl to be a DJ) or have gotten the impression that I take credit for the remixes I play. I don’t. At all. When people ask me what song was that I played, did you mix it all together just now, I say no, it was X, Y or Z. I just played X’s song then mixed it with Y’s song followed by Z’s. Having never DJ’ed before though, I feel like I should do more than just stand up there and mix the two songs, so I fiddle around on my laptop and intensely look at it, giving the impression I am hard at work. I am not getting paid good money to just stand up there and do nothing. Oh right, forgot about the not getting paid part.

So, I will use another angle, or name if you like. I am not a DJ, as in I do not scratch, do not itch, do not make records bleed.  I merely pick, in my opinion, savage songs, which will make you dance, clap along, or sing… but I am not a DJ. I do not remix live, or MC, or mix songs while standing with one foot over my head. I merely mix songs with my software that, most of the time (but a few horrific other times it has been blatant), people do not notice the end of one song, and the start of the next… but I am not a DJ. You could say, it is like that application for iTunes, where you pick one great song, and a playlist is then made of other similar great songs, the difference being that I mix the songs together. So, if you like, I will instead use the name of that application for iTunes for what I do… choose and mix great songs. From now on, instead of saying I am a DJ, if I must, and you insist, I will just say that I am a human Genius. If you insist. 

As far as my Genius set went, it was fairly uneventful. Fairly. Except the time I went to the bathroom, playing a long song to give me time, standing in the bathroom bopping along to the song, then mid song, and mid stream, hearing the song cut out (laptop crashed). Having to change horses mid stream is never easy but I had to suck it up for the sake of being a Genius, and rush back out to see what was going on. Then, a few songs later, as all dumb Geniuses do I presume, I unknowingly hit the spacebar, paused the whole thing, and took long enough to figure out what was going on. I blamed my laptop crashing for that one too.

Finished off in a good way, some girls were singing Mr Sandman up to me from the stairs below (my final song) and I left the gym happy. Until the whole – why are you bothering, why don’t you use the time to write, what’s wrong with you, good work today trying to get some rent money together for yourself, even the washing machine thinks you’re an ape robbing your money, oh Jesus, here comes the hot flushes and headaches again – all kicked in. I decided the only/cheapest/free way to get rid of the headaches, was to go to the gym that night and work them out of me.

Again I felt like an ape going to the gym twice in one day, but still couldn’t figure out why. Until I bounded in the door, past the front desk, how’s it going receptionist, my iPod is on so can’t hear what you’re saying, yeah, I’m good? Bound up the stairs, start making a move for a bench, and see the place is dead. Receptionist has half followed me up the stairs “Merrick, we closed at 10 tonight, its 5 past now, you have to leave, sorry.” Oh, right, I knew that all along, I was testing you, shur don’t you know I’m a Genius! At least I knew for definite on the way home this time, why I felt like an ape for going twice to the gym that day.

Here’s part of that great song I had people jiving and singing to the other day… Mr Sandman (Squeak E Clean Remix) by The Chordettes.

Useless

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Seeing as this is the 58th post, I feel it should be marked with a celebration. As all things 58 should be. So I will celebrate by giving you some useless random information. Mucho gracias to all those who are reading the blog regularly, the numbers are climbing steadily, almost up to 5 people a week now, ha. The cool thing about the blog is that the stats page shows you amount of readers per day, what they clicked to get to the website, what google searches were used etc. However, yesterday, two irregular, peculiar ones popped up. First one was funny in fairness… “Is Mark Heyes gay?” Good spelling by whoever it was, I hope Google gave them the answer.

The second one is highly odd and a bit disturbing. This is it, word for word…”guys changing room” rape “gay porn”. Seriously. So I Googled this to see what came up, as it was way weirder than other random searches people might stumble onto the blog from (e.g guy picks up mexicans in truck). And what came up number one in the Google search when I typed this in…? My blog!!! For funk’s sake, great stuff to be associated with really. Something like free gay porn and rape fantasy were second and third on the list. That’s great. (Apparently my post about 24 Hour Fitness tipped the search in my favour, lucky me).

Another bit of random information I got last night was in the acting class with the savage teacher, he is miles ahead of everyone else I have been to so far. Plus his stories are good. One of the nutters in the class wanted to do a scene where he got fully stripped, for no apparent reason. So, the teacher used this story as an example.

Apparently, in the movie “Romeo & Juliet”, Baz Luhrmann wanted Marlon Brando to play the priest (eventually played by the Irish actor, who now that I check is actually English, Pete Postlethwaite). Brando agreed to do it, Luhrmann was delighted, until it came time to shoot. Brando decided the priest would only work if he was naked for every scene doing it, more effect. Luhrmann said no, he didn’t want a big fat Brando on the screen for no reason. Brando said he would only do it if he was naked, Luhrmann said good duck to you then sir. So, the moral of the story… only get naked for a reason!

In case you have not yet realized, I am writing this short post for a reason. It’s a filler, a quick fix to the 5 readers until I get time to write the longer one about the acting class I went to last night. I just don’t have the time now. I think it may be good too, seeing as it involves sweating, s**t, Tropic Thunder style characters, losing German friends, and a man date. So I didn’t want to rush it now.

If anyone is on Twitter as well, follow on!!! I am slowly getting addicted to it, plus it gives me something to text when I’m in a club with Andy and Colin and need to look busy. Here’s a song that pops into my head every time I think of Twitter… Rockin Robbin by The Jackson 5

Ricky Bobby, We Meet Again…

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Having had such a productive day yesterday, I knew it would be hard to top it today. Started well though, got an email from the girl in the acting school I was at yesterday. She is offering me more classes to audit next week if I like, happy days, I feel bad for the others in there who paid thousands for the classes, I think she has a soft spot for a gibberish Irish accent and a big ball of hair, ha.

Back to being productive, time to start belting into my 19 bullets points of things to do. After the Champions League, obviously. It is tough enough watching matches here at times. I have two options for commentary, English with the American commentators and an imitation Irish guy, Tommy Smyth, or plug for the Mexican channel and not understand the Spanish commentary. There is only so much “Put it in the onion bag” and “The teams are the exact same team, just with different players” that I can bear. It was way better listening to the Goooooooooool when Ronaldo scored anyways. Here’s the only video I could find of Tommy, just to give you inkling to how bad he might be if he wasn’t reading from a script.

Next port of call was the gym, time to sort out when I was to DJ there. Up I hobble, the dodgy knee not taking kindly to the steps up to the gym, or the slight hill on my street, it was a struggle to say the least today for some reason. Rock, paper, scissors, how’s it going with big gay Jim, what was the story with the other day, rar diddy rar, oh I was meant to plough on and just play, cool cool, I know now at least, will I do it tomorrow for a couple of hours? Era shur, I’m a changed man, plough on! So, I broached getting refunded for the amount I had paid for the month in exchange for my immense DJ’ing skills, and a deal was struck. I am getting half of it back, and can pick what ever days I want to play a week (eh, just the one so I’d say Jim), and the gym would be back to being free for me. Nay too shabby. And the elusive, secret, Open Sesame way I now have if anyone questions my membership, is to just say “I DJ here”. Thats it. What a waste of paying for half the month. If anyone is in the neighborhood, I would highly recommend using my secret code to get themselves free gym. Ali Baba on!

With that sorted, I decided to hobble home and get back to my hefty list of things to do. My luck was out with the escalators (broken for about a week now, with the membership us members pay, it is about time they were fixed, ha), so had to hobble back down the steep flight of steps coming out of the gym. Steep steps are proving the biggest killer, if anyone can diagnose what is wrong with my knee from that information alone, please let me know. I eventually get down outside the gym and Sunset complex, at a big junction between my house and the gym, the green man is flashing to cross and the countdown is on. I have faith, I can make it across the road in 10 seconds, here I go.

And go I went, as fast as my knee would let me. It was killing me though so I was dragging my leg across the road. A car on the other side of the road got impatient and tried to cut across me and drive on but as they turned their option was to either hit me and drive on, or wait patiently and block the oncoming traffic. I was pottering along as fast as I could, but the car starts honking its horn at me. So, I slow down and look at the ape in the car. A blonde girl is driving the car and giving me a come-on-to-funk look, cross the road you hobbling ape. But she is not the one beeping. The dude in the passenger seat is beeping and also giving me a come-on-to-funk look, but more, if I was driving I would have drove over you at this stage. 

Obviously, I make sure to slow down, the horn is being beeped continuously by the guy, loud enough as well, so I put my hand to my ear and shrug my shoulders as if I can’t understand what the horn means or what he wants me to do. Cross what? Who? The road? Pardon me, I’m Irish, we don’t have these big roads at home. The other cars are now freaking at them now for blocking the road, the guy starts to give me the finger as I begin to hobble on again. I oblige and return the favour, thumbs up buddy, bending down slightly and leaning in towards the windscreen to make sure he sees. It is then when I notice it is my old buddy, old pal from the Hills, Ricky Bobby!!!

The fact that he had a hood on over his head meant I didn’t really see who it was until I peered in. I had a hood on too, so when I do peer in, I get the feeling he vaguely recognized my ape face and head from the drunken night in My House before, obviously he does not remember my name is Merrick, Eric or Omar. Or else he thought I might have actually been retarded by responding with a thumbs up, ha. Either way, next time he comes up to me in My House, there will be no high fives or sharing bottles of vodka, I am cutting him loose. 

Here is song of the day, which should’ve been used yesterday, seeing as Liverpool were knocked out of a cup competition. The last time they were, by Everton, wuu duu, there was a funny story to go along with the song. Weeks back, I was watching Everton play Liverpool in the F.A Cup. I had played this song on my laptop while having breakfast that day, and one of my roommates remarked how it was interesting that I liked that song and that band. Ok. So, I’m watching the match, my roommate comes back home from meeting her friend, who is now with her. How’s it going boss, big game on, give me a minute. He asks who’s playing, but as he does, Everton score in the last minute, last gasp winner, I am wuu huu’ing my way around the room (being an Everton fan) giving them high fives, hugs, great day, we beat Liverpool. It is then when I recognize the dude… the lead singer from this band, funking nuts! My first introduction to weirdness in L.A! After that long winded introduction, here’s the song… The Underdog by Spoon

It is a savage song, and they are a savage band. The song just came on my iTunes and if you did not gather, I wanted to include that story for ages, ha, hence the weak link, well worked really! The dude was sound, telling me about playing in Dublin with Interpol, not sure if many people in Ireland even know of them but Spoon on!!!!!

Hollywood FC… Worst Trial Ever

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Sweet Lord what a magnificent match I just had earlier tonight. Absolutely tremendous, from start to finish. It started off with some Spanish lady screaming rape at me, I came on in the match at half time, subbed back off after 10 minutes, and I now have the left knee of a 94 year old woman with arthritis, in her left knee. Hollywood FC will be beating down my door for me to sign, wuu huu.

I suppose I better give the background details of how I ended up getting the trial in the first place. Back in my dark Craigslist days, when I was hooked and could not kick the habit, I put an ad up offering soccer coaching lessons. Any port in a storm, and any job would do. This was when I was stupid enough to think I might have a chance of getting a job that pays money in exchange for work, I have since learnt the ways of L.A. A coach of a soccer team saw the ad, asked me if I wanted to play for a team, why not, I had an open schedule at the time (as opposed to now where I am so busy with… with… my blog).

Initially, I thought my team was half decent, few good players, savage pitch, won the first two matches, scored a few goals, happy days. However, since then, the truth has been revealed. For every 1 good player, there are at least 2 that seem to have never played the game before in their lives. A few play as if they have been dropped from the sky, onto a soccer pitch, not knowing what is going on, standing there embarrassed and clueless. The worst thing is that they’re sound, so if you get annoyed with them for forgetting to play the 2 part in a 1-2, they just kill you with kindness.

I should take this opportunity now to apologize to anyone I have played with before where I tried to make a rousing speech before a match or at half time. Listening to some of my teammates speak before or during a game has made me realize what I must’ve sounded like at times. However, I don’t think I could possibly be as bad or as clueless, but that is debatable. The worst/funniest part of it all is that everyone is expected to say something, so I am guaranteed a few gems. “The next corner we get man, I will stand at the right hand side of their left centre defence guy, move to his left, my right, and make that offensive run to the goal and score a header with my head. That could be a great move, I scored a goal like that in high school, can you put the ball there for me, maybe a foot above my head?” That kind of stuff has to be listened to, great fun, and bewildering. A guy actually said that to me on Sunday, which was made worse by the fact that we had not yet had 1 corner, I zoned out half way through his plan so he had to tell me twice, and he was a sub at the time and only came on in the last few minutes of the match. It would’ve been a great move and goal though! Maybe next week.

When it is my turn, I give my thoughts and vent frustration, and the majority of the players have no iota what I just said. Luckily, an English guy on the team picked up on this, and has taken to re-say and translate me after I am done with each sentence. It is handy having a translator though, me not being able to speak English and all. 

Last week I got an email from the coach, telling me that Hollywood FC wanted myself and another guy on the team to go for a trial. Sounded good, their name won me over. I didn’t really think much of it, until my roommate, a girl who openly claims to not being the biggest soccer fan or have in depth knowledge of the game, got very excited, said it was a big thing, congrats. Who are they again? So I wikipedia’d them, and they looked quite good, lot of ex pros and movie heads seemed to be playing or have played for them. Plus a few players from their team had been signed by teams in Europe. Then the other guy going to the trial told me if we were to get on, we would probably get paid and get to travel around California to play matches. Pay I hear you say, as in actual money and not the make believe stuff I have had to deal with recently, wuu huu, I am pumped for this now. And, he added, they might be able to sort out a longer visa for me if I was to sign for them. Oh sweet Lord, this could be two birds with one stone mythic stuff.

The trial was tonight, my regular weekly game was last night. Along to the normal game I go last night, after about 50 minutes, while chasing a ball going over the sideline, and on my own, I catch my leg on the cement running around the pitch, jar my knee, hear some sort of snap, crackle or pop, and fall down like a heap on the side of the pitch, with a dull sickening pain washing over me. Ah, this is great, good work out of me. Coach/physio sprints over, pours water over my head, cheers, thats helping, and starts telling me he thinks I have done my cruciate ligament. Ah, this is getting even better, mighty stuff. I can’t really move, don’t want help to be moved, just want to lie there, face down on the ground, until the pain goes away. Luckily enough, I have flopped down next to my clothes and stuff, which I use as a pillow. After about 10 minutes of lying there face down, I figure out it is not my cruciate, but still have a sickening dull pain. I can see the visa and money opportunity sailing away.

I ice my leg up all day today, plough through a bucket of pain killers, and fool myself into thinking I am good to try and play the match (being honest I would not have gone except the coach said this is probably the only chance for the trial, now or never). Era shur, I’ll be fine, who needs two knees anyways. Executive decision is made, I’ll go along and see how it is after warming up.

With all the pain killers and ice, I cant really feel my leg as I warm up, I’ll be grand! Just as long as I don’t kick the ball with my left foot, move any direction but forward, don’t get tackled, and don’t run, I will be flying and good to go. Must just go to the bathroom before the match starts, be right back. This is where things go a bit awry.

Firstly, the men’s bathroom looks like someone has been murdered in there, covered up with tape, all sectioned off, do not come in sign, door locked. I really have to go though, so needs must. Knock on the women’s bathroom door, no answer. Knock again and open the door, “Howdy, anyone in here?” No answer again. Knock and take a step in the door, “Hellloooo, anyone in here?”. No answer, I am good to go. In I walk, far cubicle door is open, looks clean, good to go. As I make my move, a small little Mexican lady, in her 40’s I’m guessing, comes out of another cubicle with a little girl. Oh Jesus. Sorry, I thought nobody was in here, ye don’t mind me using the bathroom do ye? I am bursting! From her facial expressions, she either doesn’t speak English, or does not understand my version of English to understand me. She rattles off a load of Spanish, I am really bursting, so start to apologize and move for the cubicle at the same time, the far one, two down from her. More Spanish, followed by the distinct word “Rape, rape, raaaaaape” Oh Jesus. What? I just want to use the bathroom! As in now, I need to go!!! I rush into the cubicle, she rushes out rattling off the word again and again. Oh sweet Jesus, please stop.

When I come out of the bathroom I am greeted by the stares of Mexicans and a little lynch mob forming. Luckily, and surprisingly, the misunderstanding is cleared up quite quickly, although the Mexican lady is still repeating the word over and over, unless there’s a Spanish word the exact same, but means something else. I speak German, Irish and mangled English so I have no clue whatsoever.

Moving on, back to the great game. Our team is made up of, supposedly, the best players in our league. And me. I am meant to be starting, but think it would be better to come on and try to play well, as opposed to starting and going off early due to my big ballooned knee. Makes great sense in my head. The Hollywood team are good, very good, 3-nil up at half time, a few class players. Start of the second half, I am on, time to impress. Close to scoring twice in a vain effort to impress (one unlucky off the crossbar, one horrendous miss off the post) and numerous near buckles of the knee later, I finally flop to the ground like a sack of potatoes, holding my knee and close to crying like a girl. This is definitely making an impression, my plan has gone swimmingly well. Max, max I was on the pitch 15 minutes, I am thinking more like 10, but time flies when you are having fun and digging an early grave for one of your knees. I give their coach a thumbs up as I am helped off the pitch and the call me sign with my hand. They badly need an idiot in their squad.

I would say I am in pain writing this, but the good old pain killers are kicking in and I am feeling nay too shabby. All I need to do now is just sit by the phone, and wait for the call from Hollywood FC. They should be calling any minute now. Any minute. After that great cameo, topped off with the horrendous miss from 5 yards out, and the great accusations just before kick-off, seriously, how ever could they not?!!

Until they do ring, here’s a class song to pass away the time… Sleepyhead by Passion Pit.

Thai Angel!!! THAI ANGEL!!!!

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Racially abused, crocked from a dodgy, sickening soccer injury, and a magnificent red wine hangover to deal with, it has been a tough 24 hours. I am feeling very tender, sore and both physically and mentally abused writing this post. At least I got to go to a place called Thai Angel, which is great fun to say while drunk. And party with strippers, which is also great fun to do while drunk.

First, I’ll deal with the emotional distress I was caused. The first pub I went to last night was fairly horrific. I have been there twice before with Andy and Colin, so seeing as I would be going with actual people this time, I thought it might possibly be better or have nicer women at least. It wasn’t and it didn’t. Thankfully the next bar was brilliant, purely because I got schooled in music by a very tasty and funky looking Danish heavy metal MTV presenter. When she asked what I did, DJ in a gym, I think, she seemed a bit interested. When I told her the only two genres of music I did not really like or have a clue about were country and heavy metal, her interest was gone. Seeing as they were her favourite two. How convenient and of course they would be, you should have said before I opened my mouth. I was then given a passionate lecture on the music of Lamb of God and some other bands I had no clue about. Weirdly, this Lamb of God lecture would benefit me later.

That pub finished up at 2, Danish girl left with her boyfriend, the job, and I headed to an after hours bar with guys on my soccer team. Thai Angel, this seedy bar in a dodgy neighborhood was the venue. I had never been but decided the night was too young to finish this soon. Thai Angel was brilliant, in a one time experience place, plus I was getting free drink from the bar maid, THAI ANGEL ON!!! For some reason, it was also great fun, to me at least, saying Thai Angel while drunk, in my best Chinese accent while in Thai Angel. I have yet to perfect my Thai accent so had to be my Chinese one, ha, ape. Anyways, this stupid way I was saying Thai Angel, THAI ANGEL, sparked up some conversation with a group of girls in there, the only group of girls in there, it seemed everyone was else was a dude in some cheesy suit eating Thai food. Irish this, Merrick that, rar diddy rar, want to come back to a party, I surely do. 

I head to the party with the 4 girls I just met, and one other dude, one of their friends, I presumed. Never presume really. Moving on, I get back to the house, bottles and bottles of red wine lined up, there are a few more girls back there, they are half watching some weird horror movie on t.v, how bad, finally, finally, things are looking good for me at a party. It had been a while.

My accent is going down well, the red wine is flowing, 5 of the 7 girls are hot, the night was getting better and better. How do ye all know each other girls, oh, ye work together, cool. Where do ye work? Never heard of it, what kind of place is that? A bikini bar? Like a beach bar or something? A dance bar? What do you mean a dancing bar? Oh, ye’re all strippers? Oh. Oh yes. Well 5 oh yes and 2 oh no thank you.

The hottest girl there was the spitting image of the lead singer in the Pussycat Dolls, she was funbelievable! However, she was the only one not to laugh at any of my stupid jokes. And decided I wasn’t even worth facing, so continued on watching the nuts horror movie after I first walked in. So, I obviously liked her the most. And wasted the majority of my time trying to make her crack. However, no joy at the inn, of course. As I am re-topping my wine to the brim, another girl comes up and asks what music I am into. 9 times out of 10 I would have been delighted to chat with her, she is tasty, but her stubborn friend has me distracted. I answer her with a question “Does your friend have a boyfriend or what’s the story?” “Who, Erica? No, she just has a thing against men, she’s not into them at all, she’s a lesbian. I saw you waste your time with her earlier.” Personally, I would never say time spent trying to chat up a ridiculously hot lesbian stripper was time wasted, but I could see her point now I had the bigger picture.

Time to talk music it seemed! She tells me she’s trying to get away from the only other dude who is at the party, keeps talking crap and wrecking her head. She better look for someone else to talk to then besides me, ha, this stupid joke goes down well, in like flynn! And the type of music she likes… heavy metal, favourite band… ha, Lamb of God! No way, I tell her, I like them too, and rattle off bits and pieces from the lecture I had received earlier. She is highly impressed, I didn’t look like I would be a fan of theirs. Who me? I’ve liked them for years! 

Things are going well, until the other dude comes over, looking annoyed at me for being able to talk crap and wreck the girl’s head better than he was. The guy looked and dressed like Carlton from the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Stupid looking cardigan over his shoulders, stuck-up, pompous fool. The most annoying thing was that when he was yapping on about crap, he would blink and leave his eyes shut for about ten seconds, as if this made his crap point more interesting or valid. He tries to join in talking about music, spoofing on about David Bowie and The Clash, making completely made up facts and stories. Luckily my buddy Bob from home has me well educated in The Clash and Bowie, so I was able to catch him every time he made up stupid spoof to the girl e.g seeing Joe Strummer in concert last summer here in L.A. Must’ve been weird seeing him, with him being dead a few years now and all.

This really annoys him, so starts to turn on me. Comes out with the statement that rocked the boat “Look, everyone knows that all Irish are criminals, or descendants of criminals, so I don’t really think you can try to educate me on music” What the funk was that, what did you just say? Then, for some odd reason, he validates his comment with this “Its okay, I’m a screenwriter, I can say this sort of stuff” Well, buddy, I write a blog and you are a funking gimp. The girl is shocked by the other dude, and starts freaking out, about the racism. I get a bit freaked that something I have said to him was racist (did I call him Carlton?) but the girls have turned on him and his racism towards me, ha. Commotion ensues, who knows him anyways, who brought this guy. Turns out nobody knew him, or invited him. He just snaked along from Thai Angel after overhearing the address. Everyone presumed he was someone else’s friend there.

To my delight, and with my help, he is phunted out of the party “Go f**k yourself you racist pig, we don’t tolerate that s**t here” is screamed at him by the girl who owned the house. Poor Carlton, did they not know he was a screenwriter so he could say what he wanted. Back inside at the party, I am surrounded by sympathy, rage and disgust that I had to deal with that kind of stuff, a guest in their country, so so sorry, please don’t think we’re all racist like him. Yeah, that was tough to deal with, I could do with a hug, group hug girls. Sure, it would cheer me up to go listen to Lamb of God on your laptop with you. My favourite song? How could  I pick just one, I love them all!

I would play a Lamb of God song but I had to endure a few last night and still not a fan. Here’s a Bowie one instead which is always good to strip, I mean, dance to… Rebel Rebel, eye patch on!!!