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I’m So Happy!!! Believe Me!!!

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Yesterday a few big decisions were decided upon and finalized. I think. No, they were. I’m stupidly indecisive so they were probably decided upon. Not fully sure yet. First one involves me moving out of my current abode next week, on Wednesday I think, time to fly the roster and all that. My roommates extended the stay an extra month to hook me up, so I knew it was going to happen. Not to worry, last night I was offered a place near here, short term, perfecto, and not with a nut like some of the other offers. I’m so happy!

However, I think I might head up to San Francisco for a few weeks, save some money (although how do you save nothing?) and get my pilot and stuff written, that is why I came here after all! Still not fully decided though, ha, so I will keep you posted. I’m so happy!

Jim in the gym also rang me yesterday, with some good news. I think, not sure really. He told me that there was good feedback from the last few times I DJ’ed, re de de, and a few guys who owned bars and clubs were interested in giving me a job, did I mind him giving them my number? I enquired if it would be for payment or pro bono like all my other work, and he said there would be payment. Sounds good, work away Jim! Looking back at it now though, I should really have clarified what kind of jobs Jim was on about, and what kind of payment too. Hopefully he meant a DJ job, and cash payment. Not too sure though with Jim and that gym, I’ll have to wait and see. Also remembered the fact that I had decided to head to San Fran next week for a while, perfect timing. I’m so happy!

Last night I was then offered another DJ’ing job, or a trial run at least, in a bar close to my house, Barney’s Beanery. This place gets fairly packed, I’m not the biggest fan of it to be honest, but always full and it could be good. Ironically, on my second day in L.A, I actually traipsed along to this place for an open interview, bar tending I think. Interview took a nose dive when social security number was mentioned and that was the end of that. The manager last night, who offered me the job (after I told her she should hire a DJ because the music was boring, ha) was the girl who interviewed me the first time around and said no thanks. A friend I was in there boozing with knew her, she started to horse booze into us, and a job was put on the table for me, a far better way than the formal interview rejection! I’m so happy!!!

Again, as it was the only place open after 2, we ended up in the “club” at the top of my street with my buddy. Usual line for the girls working… Sorry, I can’t take a dance off you, I’m an Irish priest, we’re not allowed. One girl turned out to be an evangelist, and gave me a rant and a sermon, trying to change my religion, it all got very weird. My buddy then informed me he thought that they were calling my name to go up on stage, wuu, not sure why but I’ll do it, up on stage I go to sit on a chair especially put out. About 10 girls start to pour out the wings to give me a dance. Not really sure what is going on, but I’ll go with the flow, the spotlight is on me after all. Then the announcer tells everyone to give me a clap, the girls are dancing for me because I’m getting married tomorrow! Wuu, am I? I’m too drunk to notice. “C’mon folks, give it up for Mike, his last night as a single man!” Eh, Mike or Mark? Mike or a drunk fool? The way my bouncer buddy (maybe ex-buddy now) big Jim came up on stage and dragged me off, led me to believe that maybe it was a Mike that they were calling up, and not Mark. Oh yeah, sorry Jim, I forgot I’m not actually getting married tomorrow, that bit did throw me off… Won’t be going back there for a while. I’m so happy!!!

If you’re wondering what the whole “I’m so happy” bits are about, it is to do with people in L.A continuously telling me that they are happy. I don’t mind if I ask them, but when they tell me without me asking, or just spring it on me, then convince me to why they are happy, seriously, I am, believe me… I find it odd. Yesterday alone it happened twice. One random girl on the street who I have never met before, and was talking to her about the fires in Santa Barbara, decided to interrupt my terrific story, to tell me how happy she was, “I’m so happy that today is today, aren’t you happy too, I’m so happy I moved to LA, I’m so happy we had this chat today, I’m so happy that I got to meet you, I am happy that you are you!” I still can’t figure out if she thought I was really happy and tried to out-do me, or thought I might be unhappy and wanted to rub her fake happiness in. It was highly strange, I had no response to all the happy words. I’m so happy!

Finally, last night I got a random text from a girl who I have not spoken to in a while. At 2 in the morning, without me texting her first, she texts me asking what am I up to? Normal enough. However the rest of the long text was about how she’s so happy with life at the moment, all this great stuff looks like it will be happening for her soon, happy happy happiness, rar diddy rar. I texted her back that I was so happy too, how fun it is on the bread line, great news that the visa is running out, did I tell you my sitcom has yet to be written, never mind made? I’m so happy!

Obviously, she did not get my brilliant sarcasm or joke, and replied with “I thought you’d be happy for me?” Ha, ape, sweet Lord, I wouldn’t mind if she was a buddy, but I don’t have the will to be happy for people I don’t really know! I better not name her, on the off chance she reads this and gets annoyed. Actually, come to think of it, her name is Carolina. If she does actually read this, happy days, she can’t be happy with that!

Song of the day is Young Adult Friction by The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart

Man Boobs & Double Chins…

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No sign of the nervous breakdown today, thankfully, but instead two funny incidents. On my way to the post office to post a few odd items back to Ireland, I saw two girls struggling to lift suitcases into their car. Being so nice and all, I stopped and asked them if they would like a hand. They were really struggling so offering was the least I could do. Nothing to do with the fact that they were good looking. At a push I would say very. Honestly, they were hot. Anyways, they were delighted I had offered, hopefully I could squeeze them in. The suitcases into the car, obviously, although I can’t think of another meaning for that sentence but seems like it should have an innuendo in there somewhere.

While I am struggling with the beast of a suitcase, I ask where they’re from… “Florida, we’re here visiting” They pick up I have an accent, where am I from, what am I doing here. I’m Irish, here trying some writing and acting plus a bit of stand-up and DJ’ing on the side, just saying it as it was, I was too busy with the suitcase to notice. “Oh my gawd, it was so nice of you to help us, can we get a photo, this is so cool?” I have seen people going nuts before for the Irish factor alone, but usually that is in little towns around California where they don’t usually get people from outside the State. Era shur, I would be delighted to take a photo with ye, cheeeeese. 

A photo is taken with each girl (brutal with names so can’t remember either). As Girl A looks at the photos, Girl B asks me when my next movie is coming out, this is so cooool!!! Eh, my next movie? I’ll let you know when the first one comes out. This is responded with a puzzled look. Girl A doesn’t like the photo with her, she’s deleting it, can I take one more with her? Sure, eh, why not, give me a look. As I take off my sunglasses to look at the photo, Girl B, who inquired about the movie, peers at me. Hang on, wait for it, there we go, a familiar look of disappointment starts to appear on her face. Once again, I would have gotten a better reaction taking off my t-shirt and revealing a set of man boobs, she is that unimpressed.

Girl B asks “Are you not that Irish actor, the one in the movies?” Girl A tells me she has deleted the photo and wants to take another one. I respond to Girl B with which actor are you on about, who do you think I am? Girl A and B are now looking at me in a different light, realizing, seeing as my sunglasses are off, that maybe they no longer think that the recognize me. “I can’t remember your name! Are you not that Irish actor, in the movies, you have a radio show too?” I presume they have not heard my brief appearances on radio shows back in Cork, and I can’t remember being in any movies, so I tell them I think they have the wrong Irish guy. 

They are not impressed, and seem like I have let them down, ruined the last part of their holiday. Should I apologize for stopping and helping them? Should I apologize for being Irish? Girl B tells Girl A to delete her photo too, it doesn’t matter now, and thanks me for helping them with the bags. We have a bit of an awkward silence, I break it by asking them for my tip for helping them with their luggage, they laugh, I jokingly say I wasn’t joking, awkward silence gets louder and I am on my way. Cheers girls, thanks for the burn, send me on those photos. Whures. I am going to grow a pair of man boobs for L.A, to gauge which reaction is worse from now on.

Earlier tonight I headed up to the gym. Strangely I was not feeling too chumpy about going twice in one day, seeing as I had DJ’ed earlier on today. I think it may be because I had gotten good feedback on the spot today, even asked for a few CD’s made. They were extremely puzzled and confused when I told them we still only used tapes back in Ireland, so that was the best I could do. Tonight, while I am at the shop buying a Red Bull, bizarrely, not really for the gym but for me in the gym, a hot girl comes up to me. She was in there earlier today, really liked the Journey remix I had played (it is mighty!).

Mucho gracias, how come you’re back here again tonight if you were here earlier, are you a chump like myself?!!! Her friend had lost her iPod here earlier she thinks, just came back with her to check. She then went on to tell me that her friend was having the worst day ever, lost the iPod, didn’t get a part in a movie she was going for, and her cat was sick. Sounded like a regular old day to me really. Again, me being nice, and as I had used the joke earlier today so was still fresh in my head, told the girl to tell her friend… Not to worry, tell her keep those chins up. Ha, I thought it was funnier earlier when I used it first time around, but I suppose I did know that girl.

However, I had never seen this girl’s friend, what she looked like, or knew who she was, no clue. The girl didn’t recognize this though, and got very offended. “Did you just say chins? As in plural?” Eh, yeah, chins, it was a joke… “What kind of joke is that? My friend is having such a bad day and you make that kind of joke? What an a-hole you are, complete a-hole”. I thought she over-reacted, a lot, until her friend came along saying there was no sign of her iPod. Then I saw why I should not have made the joke, I’ll say no more. How was I to know though, I had never seen her before in my life?!!! I personally thought the girl was quite rude herself for not saying goodbye as she stormed off, I will not be playing Journey for her next time!

(Maybe I will actually, she was pretty good looking).

Unfortunately there’s no Youtube video for the Journey remix I have, so song of the day is this remix instead… Enter Sandman (Herve Remix) by Metallica

Thats What She Said…

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Fruitless is how I would describe today. Absolutely fruitless. Although, probably my most productive activity ended up being buying apples. Plus I got a cool new t-shirt indirectly given to me by Bill Clinton. Very, very, very indirectly.

My three main things to do today were: 1. Go up to the strip club at the top of the street and enquire about the potential DJ job that Jim told me about; 2. Call over to the Irish Film Board, which is across the road from the strip club conveniently, and try to get a bit of help and guidance from a contact in there, and; 3. Buy some turkey slices. That was it. 3 basic enough things to do. How hard could they be? Surely I would achieve one of them, my money was definitely on one of the first two, definitely one of them.

1. Up to the strip club and go inside. I get a flood of flashbacks now that I am back inside, oh yeah I remember that seat, I remember those ATM machines by the wall, balls, did I take money out? No, doubt it, hopefully not. I remembered a girl in there too, sitting at a table, and, surprisingly, she remembered me, I must’ve made a good impression (more than likely made an ape of myself completely but I’ll tell myself a good impression for the sake of it). She brings me over to Charlie, the manager/owner, not too sure. He doesn’t seem too impressed by me, or care what I have to say really, doesn’t bother to get up, or say hello, who needs introductions anyways, straight to the point “What do you want?” Eh, Jim told me to call in during the day, said something about a DJ job perhaps? Charlie is old, and I can see all over his face that he has not understood any of what I had just said, I was trying to be as clear as I could too.

Maybe if I speak slower, and louder, he’ll understand. I do, he doesn’t. Tells me Jim starts at 6, call back then. This is going nowhere fast. A girl calls his name from across the room, and he shouts back at her “Did you finish up yet?” I wasn’t too sure what he was on about, but the next bit of banter I blame as a result of me watching too much of the Office and my roommate for being good at these jokes and getting me hooked. Anyways, the girl shouts back across the room ” I can’t Charlie, it’s too hard.” To which I instinctively say to Charlie, thats what she said, ha. Probably not the best thing to try the humour with Charlie seeing as it was going so poorly anyways. It didn’t really matter though, he couldn’t understand me anyways.

Oh but he understood that line, “What’s that meant to mean?” Eh, you know, ha, it was a joke, thats what she said, as in… “Yeah, she did say that, but what are you trying to say?” Oh sweet Lord, I have the job in the bag, best interview ever. “What do you want anyways? You’re looking for Jim?’ No, about a DJ job, Jim said… “We’re not hiring” And that was that. End of. See ya later Charlie.

2. Walked across the road. Starting to notice how there are a lot of film production companies based right across the road from me. As in a building or two full of them. Where was the neon sign that should’ve alerted me to this place before?!!! Found the Irish Film Board, happy days. I had decided not to email them first, I would just call up. It would be quicker and easier to get help in person, or for them to ignore me through emails, plus I am more likeable in person, or so I have been told, personally I have my doubts. Find the buzzer, get buzzed in, walk to the office, find out that the guy I was told to look for has left already for the weekend and I should’ve emailed ahead first to set up a time. Ah, good old emails, always a smart thing to do. I didn’t mind too much though, at least I hadn’t traipsed around the city for hours to find that out. 

3. Bad sign when buying turkey to make a sandwich for yourself is the best you can do all day, but I was determined to do at least one thing on the to-do list. As I was walking to Trader Joes, I saw The Laugh Factory across the road. I’ll save my day by going in and playing the Irish priest card, and try to get a slot for their open mic session next week. Wuu, finally a good plan. Cross the road, push into the door to open her up, door is shut, so I just walk into the door. The idiot clown walking into The Laugh Factory. I bumble back across the road, I’ll stick to the plan of turkey and home. Or so I thought. Ever hear of a meat rush on Friday afternoon? No? Me neither. But apparently they have them here, and they were out of turkey slices. Ha, how, why, I didn’t have the energy, why bother, I gave up. I ended up buying good turkey substitutes of apples and potatoes instead, not before knocking two piles of them on the floor, taking both from the bottom of the highly stacked piles. Surely they can come up with a better way to arrange them instead of towering piles which I will inevitably knock over.

Three things to do. Zero of them accomplished. Wuu, fruitful on! Apparently, I think I have the timeline right, but as I walked home, there was also an earthquake. Oddly, it measured 4.4 on the Richter scale, the same as the one the shook me insides out in San Francisco. People were freaking out “It was super scary, I thought it was the big one, oh my Gawd” (Apparently a big one is due that will funk the whole place up). I couldn’t even do the earthquake right, I didn’t feel a bloody thing, gutted I missed out on all the fun.

All in all, I was not too pushed with the pointless day I had, tomorrow is the big one, potentially. Big meet and greet tomorrow afternoon (I think it’s big anyways), followed by a potentially big night, re de de, I’ll say no more. My day was brightened up by my roommate at least. She had been at a Bill Clinton fundraiser the night before, met the man himself, the likes of Zach Braff and Jessica Alba amongst others mingling too (I told you that her blog would be waaaaaaay better than mine if she did one). Bill had given her a t-shirt, she doesn’t wear XL men’s size, I don’t either but with the help of 3 t-shirts underneath I can pull XL off, so she gave me the t-shirt as a present. I made her tell me that Bill had personally asked her to give it to me, just so I could feel good about it. How sound is Bill?!!!

And, as I am sure you were wondering, so just in case you were, 2 of the 3 apples I bought were rotten to the core. I could not even do that right, wuu, tomorrow is the big one though, I’m saving myself for then, c’mon Hatton!!!!!

Song of the day is the first song I heard this morning, and final song I will play before I get my sleep on. It is ominous to say the least, but a savage song… How It Ends by Devotchka

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.

DJ Bluffing

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Second day of DJ’ing did not start so well. In fact, yesterday I had one of those mare of a days everyone has now and again, for no apparent reason. Looking back now, and after being told by my buddy today, I was being a little b**ch. There was a heat wave so it was ridiculously hot, as in about 100 degrees. I had could barely sleep with the heat, so woke up in a little b**ch mood which continued for the day. What am I doing with my life, I worked all weekend and made about $25, homeless bums are higher up on the salary ladder than me, I stayed up trying to find good remixes and ended up downloading about 200 crap songs (paid for them, obviously) and for what… a DJ gig I don’t even get paid for, what an ape I was, am, will ever be. This was the mood I was in when I headed to the gym to DJ. My little b**ch mood.

So I started off with a rock intro, purely because of the assistant manager and me being an ape trying to please her. This did not go down well with everyone else in there it seemed. There was no bopping around, not even fake bopping from the dude behind the counter. I kept trying to save it with more rock, but even as good as they were, I got the vibe that they were not going down well. The DJ booth is located half way up the stairs, so I can’t see as much as I would like. The main entrance, people on the stairs, and the front desk more or less. I was then informed that the assistant manager wasn’t even on that day, the funking job. My little b**ch mood got even worse.

All I could think about was what kind of ape I was – stuck under a stairs, playing songs the people didn’t even like, sweating to death, tired from being up all night downloading these crap songs, and not getting money for any of this ape-ness. And I was wearing headphones that no sound came out of. What a tool I am. Funk that, this music needs to change, and fast. I cut the song that was on short, but changed the entire musical angle too soon. I put on a song that I think, played at the right time, could go down well. Not though, when things are going horrendous to start with. I went from a (savage) remix of a Clash song, to not this song, but a remix of this…

The remix, obviously, is not too bad being honest, its pretty cool. But when you’re trying to save making yourself look like an ape, it is probably not the best song to give you street cred, I actually saw one girl look up at me and laugh. Oh Jesus. I blame it on a rush of blood to the head, what with the headphones being stuck on too tight and all. I half thought of stopping the set short and just leaving, what were they going to do, not not pay me? I gave it one last roll of the dice with a few guaranteed remixes. These got me in a better mood at least. Until I saw the General Manager making a bee line for me. Balls.

“Hey man, we haven’t been properly introduced yet”… Yeah, look I’ll pack my stuff and go… “I just wanted to say, great job, you are really getting the place going” Eh, say what now? “You are definitely better than the last guy we had” Ok, I’ll take that as a compliment that you think I’m better than at least one other person, cheers. “Any more 80’s remixes, we loved the other one you just played?” Rick Astley? A girl laughed at me, are you sure??!!! Here you go so… I put on a gem (At the time, I had put it in the bob hope pile after the reception I thought poor Rick had gotten)

Now I could see people bopping and dancing around, my tunnel vision and little b**ch mood had been lifted! People were even singing along at the top of their voices, it is Hollywood too I suppose so they might have been hoping to get signed up for a record deal at the same time. This even brought one of my fans out of the woodwork from upstairs. I saw his head pop over the banister, squeal, and rush down with a friend in tow to tell me he loves to dance to this song. Good stuff, no I will not dance with you. So the two of them stood halfway up the stairs, where I was situated, and danced along to the song in front of me. Very flamboyantly with each other. Throwing me looks. The whole song.

More and more people were swinging by now to say good job, great work, wuu! One guy rushed out to his car to give me his friend’s CD to see if I would play it next time (I wont, it’s horrendous, for the gym at least). They also seemed to linger around, to watch me do my magic. It was then when I realized that these people thought I was actually remixing these songs on the spot, making it up as I went along. I only mix the end and start of songs. My headphones are plugged into a slot in my laptop where no sound comes out of. When I realized they were watching my hands to see how I was remixing these songs so well, I did what any person would do. I informed them that they were remixes I had found. I wish.

Instead, I did what any ape would do, and pretended to mix, scratch and mash songs together. On my laptop. With no external mixer or sound card. My headphones filling my ears with silence. Making sure to press parts of the keyboard where there were no buttons, pretending to wiggle my fingers around on the scroll part as if I was rewinding the song down or speeding it up. Tapping the side of the laptop as if I was making part of the song repeat and then finally kick in. I can mix two songs I have together well, but these people were convinced I was remixing entire songs, who was I to disappoint! I kept this up until they seemed impressed and convinced  I was doing it and left. It was tiring enough, pretending to be a master remixer.

My fan came back a good few times to tell me “Good job” and give me two thumbs up. Where did he put his thumbs, I hear you say, hardy har. I was going to see if I could get a photo with him for the blog, seeing as he was dressed in a ridiculous get-up once again, but I didn’t, for two reasons. Firstly, my camera has been bust since Mexico, and secondly, aren’t fans the ones who ask you for a photo, not the other way around? Although I presume Larry David is calling over to my house any day now for a quick polaroid. 

I finished the set on a high note, even getting calls for “One more song!” which I duly obliged, with a song I’ll play below. My little b**ch mood had been lifted. It was in the back of my mind that hopefully no other DJ will ever watch me work my magic on the remixing side, notice my headphones are plugged into nothing, or that the remixes are the exact same every time. Plus I remembered that I still was not getting paid for any of this, but I pushed all of that irrelevant stuff way back to the very back of my mind. 

I headed home, chilled out a while, tried to be productive, sweltered in the heat, then decided it was a boring Monday night, I might as well go work out. Which is when one of my roommates asked me where I was off to… the gym. “The gym? Weren’t you there earlier?” Yeah. “You have a fun life, the gym twice in one day! I’m only joking, have fun!” Have fun you say. Twice in one day. I have a fun life indeed. Indeed I do. Indeed. I have no life. Twice in one day! What kind of chump am I? Twice in one day?!!! What are you doing with your life?!! You are a bum, sort yourself out! And what the funk is with this heat?!! Why can’t it be cold and miserable?!!!… And I was back to being a little b**ch again. Wuu.

Here was the encore song that had people doing the zombie dance that goes along to it…

Thriller Remix by Michael Jackson

Being honest, I used this post as a way to vent out the last of my bad mood. Today, in contrast, has been mighty!!! You must be so excited to hear about it next time!!! Re de de!!!