Tag Archives: Boozing

Santa Touched Me. Felt. Liked. Christmas!

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If It Wasn’t For You – Various Cruelties

Dark. Dreary. Drab. Depressing. Dire. Dismal. Doleful. Dreadful. Downer. Dose. Big bulbous buckets of gushing water. Tut. The week before Christmas the rain held a reign of terror over L.A. Brutal. In every way. I know. But it did. People can’t cope. Simply melt away at the sight of rain. Panic kicks in. Folk freak out. Mighty fun really. Particularly the week before Christmas. The week when the fun and anticipation is meant to be kicking in. The week when the Christmas spirit is mean’t to be freaking you out! In a good way. Instead. Just surrounded by wet moaning non-believers (in Christmas). Kind of weird too seeing as Christmas is full on advertised everywhere. TV non-stop. Every show has a Christmas special. Every shop has a Christmas sale. Every person… Doesn’t really give a hoot aboot it. Almost everyone anyways. Almost all Americans at least. Europeans were believers. Just surrounded by non. Asked an American buddy if he was looking forward to his Christmas dinner… Dinner? I’ll eat dinner when I’m hungry I guess. A burger or something? I don’t know. What do you mean? Oh Jesus. Christmas buzz, in full swing! Closest it felt to being like Christmas in any way was when I accidentally knocked over the Christmas tree in the foyer of my building. Lugging in DJ gear out of the rain. Wet shoes. Wet leaf. Wet floor. Slip. Catch. Bag. Balls. Fall. Tree. Fall. Catch. Ish. Christmas balls. Everywhere. Picked it up and danced on as quick as a can. And you know how quick cans can dance! No harm done. Just my composure. Shhh. And so this was Christmas… ? Continue Reading »

You Are America?

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Round And Round – Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti

Yesterday. Day of confusion. Fun times. Yet again, one of life’s great mysteries reared its peculiar head:

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Monkey Free Crap Fun!

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Dancers. Islands. Yachts. Parts. Practice. Bathrooms. Some things are better private. Ehh… Numbers. Some things are not. One new addition to the better pile… Jets. Finally I can now confidently say: Private jets are the dancers of the air. Finally, says you. I know, says I. Giddy up! Assumption off. Jet on. Absolutely funking mighty. Planned on doing a blogaruu from up in the air. Unfortunately. Tad busy. Boozing. Dancing. On a plush private jet. On my way to Vegas. All on a Monday morning?!! Nay too shabby. Bloody Mary all the way! Literally. Go on the ape. Did manage to get a bit of mental bookaruu scribbling in, at least. Le sequel could start a bit like this… I’m on a jet. Private kind. En route to Vegas. Disneyland. Doused in acid. The land of whures. Heat. More whures. Monkeys. Mind wobbles. Crap fun. And depression. Wuu! Can’t wait. Vegas on… Continue Reading »

Umm. Yeah. Yum.

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Use it. Or lose it. For the past week, I have definitely lost it. Gym. Shave. Blog. Not much of any going on. Lazy. Ran out of shaving gel. And more laziness. Blog has been a dry empty barren desert. Which is surprising. Seeing as a fair old whack has been chugging along. Such as sparks flying out of my phone. On fire. Mighty. Out with the old. In with the Blue. Berry. Re-learning phone basics. Typing in slow motion. On a new style Qwerty keyboard. Texting and walking. Near impossible. Two handed texting. Like a senile dog begrudgingly learning a new trick. Given up on texts. Too much effort. Confused. Lost. Head buried in the phone. Walking aimlessly along. Surprised I didn’t walk into a pole. More surprised when I did walk into that bush. Yelping. Realising. Looking. Coast clear. All good. Yelp on. Bush off. Few scrapes. All good. Not that that was the worst of my new texting while walking problem. Continue Reading »

Dancing With Leperchauns

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Maybe I’m just a wee bit of a funking idiot. Maybe it’s just because I had an average day and night. Maybe I just didn’t celebrate it the right way. Maybe it’s because I didn’t get to go to a parade. Or. Maybe. Perhaps. Paddy’s Day. Is. Quite over-rated. Ridiculously so? Maybe if I was American. And needed to feel more Irish. As it is the cool thing to be. To be true. Perhaps. Or. If I worked a 9-5 job and got the day off work, just to celebrate. Then. Perhaps. Paddy’s Day might live up to the hype. However. I am not. I do not. Instead. Tried too hard. Thought too much. Hype machine. Overload. Hyperventilating. Brown bag. Hi Pip. Meet ape. Continue Reading »