Y’s Up. Owl On.

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One week ago, I realised two things. One. My bedroom is the quietest place ever created. My pillow screams at me. That kind of quiet. Too quiet to sleep. That kind of quiet. Tough life, I know. Seriously though. Come sleep in my bed. The quietness is deafening. Tough life. Moving on. Secondly. I’ve slipped. Fallen. Into a routine. Step by step. Particularly mornings. Wake up. Get out of bed. Right side. Literally. Walk around my bed. Over to my laptop. Turn it on. Open the blinds. Open the window. Fix my bed. Pick up my laptop. Go to the bathroom. Surf. Hotmail. BBC Football. Gmail. Blog. Facebook. Twitter. Kitchen. Bowl. Porridge. Microwave. Drink some water. Drink some more. Ding. Porridge. Coffee. Chug. Water. Brush my teeth. Clothes on. And away I go. Continue Reading »

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Got It? Got What? What Do I Got?!

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Forgot

As I might have mentioned previously, my world almost collapsed when I found out that I forgot to bring my scissors with me. Left it back in Ireland. Apocalypse now. Thankfully, I’ve moved on. Well, kind of. I still think about it, but it’s no longer causing the sky to tumble down. Anyways, that was one thing I forgot back in Ireland. I’ve quickly realised that I have forgotten way more things here in L.A. Especially after the hibernation period I went through at home. Feels like I’ve just woken up from a coma. Forgot a lot! Continue Reading »

No Job. No Agent. Funk, Looks Like Pimp Time!

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Today was an off day in my relationship with L.A, we were having a bad hair day, so to speak. The whole no job affair is getting to me. Either that or being off the booze is kicking in more than I thought. I wonder if waking up daily knowing, once again, you have no job, is better or worse than having to wake up early and go to work at a job you dislike? Highly debatable really. This morning I learnt that the film festival which had asked me to update their website, was as I had suspected, intended to be done pro bono. Unfortunately for them, I am anti bono. Particularly in this current state anyways. I still had got no phone call back from Jim, in the gym, so the day did not start off on a good note. Plus, unsurprisingly, the DJ who asked me to design a website for him, seemed to not notice my calls and forgot to return my voicemail. For once I wanted random dudes to be plaguing me with offers!

My day was drudging along, my spark had yet to ignite, no jobs, where was the money to keep me afloat going to come from, the sun was shining and beating down, but the gloom was setting in. I have realized that the majority of job offers I have gotten since being here, seem just to be ways of luring me in and trying to bed me. And before you think I am being a cocky ape thinking this, know that any girl who has done this has not been good looking (average at best), and the rest have been dudes. For example, the hippy who told me she had work for me just tried to get me drunk and asked me to change a lightbulb, as she dressed up as a leprechaun. For example, with the website work, could I do it for free but, you know,maybe we can work out a different payment? No, thank you. For example, the orgy chick told me she could sort out a job for me helping on a movie set, but seemingly I would need to partake in a mostly male orgy for that. I could go on but thankfully wont.

I decided to get proactive, and head to the gym earlier than usual, up to big happy gay Jim. I had faith in Jim! High fives, rock paper, greetings done, where was my call, you pr**k, and why no pillow talk?! Turns out the operations manager was off until tomorrow so he hadn’t asked her yet. However, he rings her there and then to try and rush through an okay for me to start. I get him put it on loudspeaker, so I know he’s not spoofing. Setback, only get her voicemail, he leaves her a long rambling message, but he still seems optimistic so things were looking up a bit. Hopefully tomorrow I will get the call! The only bad thing about it all was this… as I was leaving, Jim tells me to get my best French stuff ready, he really enjoyed yesterday. Oh Jesus.  Eh, don’t worry Jim, I will have the place rocking, just give me a trial run. He tells me he can’t wait to see me in action for the full two hours if I get the all clear,then, as you do, or he does at least, finishes the conversation off with a subtle cat-like claw and gnawing his teeth at me. Oh sweet Lord, please say you did not just do that and that this job offer is actually real.

While walking home, I started to ponder was it really time to give in and take heed of all these signs. I was already forming a client base , should I just get a pimp and start the money flowing in. Maybe the pimp could get me some movie work too, didn’t seem like too bad a plan after all. Luckily, I have a minor brainwave. I should try dropping demos into all the gyms I have been to since I got here, to see if I can blag work with any of them. Not much I know but something at least, I could feel a bit productive. And it keeps me from getting my very own pimp for another few days at least.

Another sticky issue today arose from the simple task of being asked for a photo of myself. Well, not just a photo, a Hollywood photo if I have it. Maybe one with the Hollywood sign in the background. Oh right, I have plenty of them lying around. I have an article being published in a newspaper on Thursday, and they asked for that kind of photo to go with it. It is bad enough that I have had a great dislike for photos my whole life, so something as specific as that was going to be great fun getting. Plus, obviously, one where I didn’t look like an ape, didn’t look drunk to funk, and it had to be of me on my own, which was probably the worst of all. I don’t know about you, but that to me was asking a lot. Writing the article was easy, getting that photo was far tougher!

Last night, a friend who is a photographer said he would take a photo of me with the city of L.A in the background, the Hollywood sign included, he had the perfect spot. On our way to the location, we noticed that the Hollywood sign wasn’t lit up, the job, the one night it wouldn’t be, of course it wouldn’t. However, as we are driving home, right by my house, I spot the perfect, and more fitting, alternative. Next to the Laugh Factory, there is a big Hollywood sign spray-painted on the wall. Its not glamourous, not the first choice, a bit grimy and on the side of a petrol station, the perfect photo. He takes one snap, looks acceptable to me, thats the money shot, we are done! Personally, I don’t know how anyone could model if they weren’t getting paid for it. Or if they were sober. Standing having your photo taken, posing – look into the sky, look at my finger, look less like you are looking at anything, look like you know what you’re doing, look like you might be able to take a picture, just look away, look you’re crap at this, we are done – how anyone can enjoy that without getting paid is beyond me. Technically, I was getting paid, so thats why I had to do it, ha.

All in all, today has finished off quite well. I just emailed off the photo, the article is good to go. I have demos ready for the other gyms tomorrow. I had even set up a few free audits for acting classes for later this week, I managed to be productive in the end. And, wuu huu, just got a text from the DJ dude, hang on, let me read it before I finish up… Sorry mate… hold off on website… maybe in a month or two… busy with work. Balls. Woke up finding out one website job was a no-go, going to sleep finding out the exact same. The funking berries. I’m shaving my head tomorrow. I wonder if its too late to find a pimp at this hour too.

First a great chilled song that was on my iTunes a while ago… Save Myself by Willy Mason.

Here’s a song that will, if nothing else, have you wishing you were a robot for a song. Or, that you could dance as well as the guy in this video… Crimewave (Crystal Castles VS Health) by Crystal Castles

Sprung Broke

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I was getting withdrawal symptoms not updating the blog, plus there have been too many incidents going on, so I need to jot them down. If you’re looking forward to hearing about how unbelievable Spring Break is, with the thousands of hot women, free booze flowing, crazy parties, savage clubs, time of your life and all that, I apologise in advance. If you want to hear about OAP’s, German dudes in thongs (stereotype on!), not so all-inclusive, and married/incestuous women, read on!

This is my second time flying to Mexico, and both times I clapped like an ape when I landed. This first time flying to Cancun, I noticed the pilot was actually in the bathroom when the plane was descending and close to landing. With a dodgy hop, skip and a jump, the plane landed, just about, so I presume there were two pilots but still dodge. I joined in with the over-enthusiastic Yanks who were hooting and hollering that the plane had landed.

This time around, I did a one handed clap to myself as I could get off the plane. I’d say about 5 minutes into the flight, I detected that the guy next to me had to have just s**ted himself. The smell was horrendous. Either he did, or I did without knowing, the smell was that bad. Then again, if it was me, I wouldn’t really be divulging it on the blog. He was an older, gruff looking Mexican, and didn’t seem to care or notice. Even though I was happy with my seat – aisle on the emergency row, awful pains in the legs, any chance? -I had to move. So I scoured the plane for an available seat, its full to the brim, happy days. In the end I had to go down the back of the plane for the flight and hang around by the toilets. The stewardess gave me her seat for parts, parts I spent sitting in the toilet (funnily enough I wrote my first stand-up pieces when in the toilet), but mainly I was just hanging around the back of the plane. Small plane too so I could more or less hear what person did what in the toilet, it was great. The smell was better down there at least. It was a mighty start to my priest get-away!

My first morning at breakfast was when I kind of thought I picked the wrong place to stay. Firstly, the hotel was split in two, grand and club. Grand was nicer, more restaurants, bars etc, the better place to stay. Club was cheaper, it’ll be grand, club on! So I’m eating some dodgy buffet food in the club section, waiting for the hoards of college girls to trundle in for breakfast, some dude to give me a beer bong and the music to blare up, my Spring Break would be under way. Just like they do on MTV. And here they come, hoards and hoards of old people, mixed with people wearing Muubuu’s, Homer Simpson fat camp style. The job. Sprung Broke all the way. Felt more like Radio 1. There were a splattering of hot women at breakfast, but mostly couples, or are they brother and sister, I’ll come back to that.

I moseyed way up to the pool after breakfast, at least it was roasting, the chicks will all be up here, come on the beer bong! The pool was cool enough, bar in the middle, younger crowd up there, might not be too bad. It was then when I found out that all-inclusive does not include water. Or the majority of drinks one would probably drink. One beer, one watery vodka, one dodgy mixer (there were more but that was my menu). The pool was full to the brim with apes as well. They were either Tom Cruise wannabes, or Bon Jovi lovers. The Tom Cruise dudes were all small, pumped up, finger pointing, gun motioning, high fiving, cringe worthy, rooting tooting apes, with none of his good movie lines. The Bon Jovi dudes were bandana’d up to the max, with their florescent, Speedo, too-tight-for-their-heads sunglasses. And the women, who weren’t part of couples-ville, were… sound looking. The music was pumping, but sweet lord, it was horrific. Cher’s classic, Do You Believe In Life After Love, must have been on loop every third song. I liked it the first 7 times but after that I had to have a word with the DJ, the world renowned Senor Miguel, all night long, requests are welcome, as long as its Cher or Bon Jovi!

After a fair few watery vodkas at that pool, I decided I should really sneak into the grand section and see what the fuss was. So I cleverly walked across a path, and I was in, tough enough. The pool was better in fairness, plus it had a better selection of watery spirits to choose from, so I hung around a while. Chilling with all the grandparents there. Having small talk about the books we were reading. Saying how glad we were that we had all brought cardigans, as it does get quite chilly here at night.

One granddad ruined all the small talk. His wife was telling another set of grandparents, and me, of how great it was that they brought their young granddaughter, she can interpret for them, she’s only 6 but speaks Spanish so well. The other granny must have said “Isn’t that awesome, really awesome, good for her, and for you, that is really awesome” about 9 times. She was interrupted, however, by the girl’s granddad, who had said nothing at all up to this point, until he pops out with “I wish the little c**t would shut up if you ask me”. Ha, it was brilliant, I was the only one laughing though. Cue awkward silence, which was a lot of fun, followed by the fighting about calling her that name in front of people, followed by the granddad calling his wife the same name too.

That fun was then followed by my brief meeting with Ze Germans. So, sitting at the bar in the swimming pool, grandparents fighting to my right, I decide to swivel to my left. Two big fat German dudes, in red thongs, both looking like Gary Glitter with their beards and caps, and who were holding hands I should add, a post wouldn’t be complete without some gay paragraph, at least I can talk to them about Harvey Milk. I kind of overhear them talking in German and looking at me. It takes a minute for my German ear to tune in that they’re saying something about my hair, mocking it I think. Little did the know about my previous life as a translator! So, I say nothing, let them mock on, make sure, I can get that they think I need a haircut, something like that. So I finish my drink, then in German, ask them where they bought their thongs, and inform them that hair is actually a wig, don’t tell anyone. Brutal comebacks I know, but it was the best I could do at the time in German. I finished off with a “Ja, VOLL!” alright which Germans don’t like, I showed them to mock me to my face in a foreign language!

I’ll have to blog on tomorrow about the brother and sister/boyfriend and girlfriend tomorrow. I’m late enough as it is. The game of bridge starts over in Sue and Jim’s room in 5 minutes! Sprung Broke on!!!

Song of the day is not cheesy DJ Senor Miguel’s choice but this savage one… Courtship Dating by Crystal Castles