Bobby Beard. Nobby No Beard. Polly and Esther. Spanish Dexter (Spandex). Vinnie ‘The Straight’ Sanchez. Amazing week. Concocted some amount of new characters to talk to in my head. Some gibber. Speaking of which, Saturday night was amazing. In the sense it was the first Saturday in donkeys that I didn’t DJig. Night off. Oh Betsy. Even better, mighty party to go to. Buddy’s one year wedding anniversary. Up in the hills. Out the back of his mighty garden. Chandeliers dangling from trees. Lights sparkling in the bushes. All done up. Looking savage. Tables. Bar. Music. Food. Party on! Told it was a casual affair. Dress casually. OK. Show up. Everyone else more or less suited and booted. Mighty. Oh yeah. It was casual. But then I just found out it’s kind of formal too. Ah you’ll be grand!
Savage party in fairness. Host happens to have just arrived back from a musical tour of Europa. Watched a bit of footage of that. Looked beyond unreal. Funreal unreal. Singing in front of 70,000+ people must be some buzz. Mental stuff. Must admit I’m looking forward to doing my stand-up stadium tour even more after watching it. You know, once this book is finished and all. Obviously. Here’s an amazing photo showing me having an amazing time… Continue Reading »
Let’s pretend today’s Monday. Ok. Where was I… oh yeah, flashbacks have been flooding in all day. Flashes of all kinds. Time to fill in the blanks. Funny old weekend. Getting back on track. Good chunk of buddies giddied up to Coachella for the weekend. Back to my solo Joe galavanting. Turned out a treat. Not sure exactly why. I do know there shall be more solo Joe in the future though. Weekend of DJigging. More DJigs the merrier. Good for the soul. White abyss needs to be filled up. Either that. Or my glass just keeps on being refilled. DJig on. Even if it does lead me down paths full of nuts and nutters. Continue Reading »
At the moment, three things kind of annoy me a good little tad. Uno… The word ‘lol’. A pointless word to fill a gap if ever I have read one. Lol. Deux… People who keep putting “everything, they think, is profound, into quotation marks”. And three… that bars close so early in L.A. I won’t lie, back in the day, in Ireland, before I ever came to America, I always imagined this would be the place to go to for great nightlife. And, you know what, it actually is, ha, beyond belief. However, at times, it ends far too soon. Perhaps I’m spoilt from all-night boozing at after-hours back home, but still, the mentality here is to just shut up shop, along with their drinking mouths, when the lights flash and the true beauty is shown. Not so much fun to be true. Continue Reading »
My last blogaruu post was published in an extremely hungover state. Since then, I have stayed in all day, mulling things over. You could say, I stayed in my head all day, but I won’t. A few mighty choices were made and also good guidance was received, I am pumped again! Flashbacks from last night have also been flooding back all day long, some quite funny, however, most of which would be unsuitable for the blog, no one wants to hear those stroies. All I will say though, is that you can get away with murder if you use the line “Sorry, I’m a trainee priest”. Immediately you are looked upon in a different light, and all is forgiven.
The origins of the line came about, I think, when I was trying to be nice to a girl who was not my type, and so to speak, I had to dodge a bullet. Normally, I might be nice and avoid the truth about me playing dumb to any rare advances, by telling the girl, sorry, I’m gay. A good line which has no comeback really in Ireland, no matter if she does or does not believe you. However, this line cannot be used in West Hollywood. If so, a girl will say, ok, no problem, and bring 3 or 4 gay friends over for you, not the desired outcome. So, instead “Sorry, I’m a priest, or a trainee one anyways” is used, sheer brilliance in my opinion.
Last night I was unfortunate enough to get stuck as a wingman with a girl who had an immense dishwater personality. The conversation was brutal, not only could she not understand me, she wasn’t my type so it wasn’t worth the effort to explain what I said with her, the conversation was flowing, one way! Stuck for a few drinks, me talking to her plain expression, getting nothing in return. Every time I would try to engage a few words out of her by asking a question, all I got in return was her plain gaze looking at me, waiting for the question to come, not understanding my accent to realize I had already shouted at her, five times, “What did you say your name was again?”.
You know a conversation is not going well when a question like “So what way do you drive to work from your house? Do you take that street or this street? Oh yeah, good call, that street is way better” is asked in order to beat a few words out of someone. Just as I was about to ask what her car was like for miles per gallon (how bad is that?!!) I managed to stop myself, and stop the torture. I knew this was the nadir, enough was enough, I’m going for a stroll, this is horrific. Quick walk around the bar, not much going on, back to my buddy and the two girls, the job.
By the way, I am a brutal wingman, as in horrendous, I can’t imagine anybody actually does like the role, playing second fiddle. Unless the girls are models, which happens 9 times out 10 I suppose. Sure. You end up talking to someone you don’t really want to talk to, and who probably doesn’t really want to talk to you either. It is a match made in heaven, lose-lose situation. Anyways, I get back to the group, and her friend kindly informs me, in front of everyone, that dull as dishwater really wants to make out with me, ha, her exact words. Eh, oh Jesus, no thank you, beep beep, is that my phone, who is texting me at this hour, hang on, I’ll be back. Another stroll to the bathroom and back again, to be told again by her friend the same thing, with dishwater just kind of nodding along solemnly, in a plain, boring, dull fashion, very enticing.
Sorry, I can’t, I’m a priest, well almost one, just one more semester to go. Still though, I can’t really do it, pity too, it was an appealing proposition you threw out there. “Oh my Gawd, are you reelly?” My buddy chips in with a “Yeah, he is, can’t do it” and backs me up. Thinking about it now, the following reaction is probably why I used the line in the first place, ha, maybe not to turn down, but to turn up, so to speak. They love it, eyes are glistening, a real life priest, oh my Gawd. Balls, should’ve used the gay line. However, it does bring about a bit of humour at least… “So, are priests allowed to have sex?” It depends… “On what?” On what the girl looks like. Ha, she understood that and was not impressed.
To make a long story a few lines longer, it ends with the girl, somehow, suggesting we should hang out again, we should do this more, it was fun talking to you (??!!!) and holds out her phone. I pretend not to see it, so she asks for my number. A battle of wits ensue…”So what’s your number Merrick, I’ll call you” 4… “That is funny, what is it?” Just 4… “You are funny, no seriously”… Ok so, 44 “Seriously? Is that an Irish number? Do you have an American cell?” No, thats it, my Irish number, just call 4 or 44.
Maybe it was this reaction that reminded me to use the line in the club at the top of my street later on last night. It can be used in numerous ways really, I would highly recommend it. Also quite useful for the next day, ha.
Moving on, I was probably better off staying at home all day. The one time I did go out I ended up insulting somebody. On my way to the shop I had no change for the homeless dude who is entertaining and worth every dollar I give him every few weeks. I’ll get you on the way back boss! Buy the food, looking forward to it, good song comes on my iPod, happy days. Walking home, I see a different homeless guy sitting down by a wall near the shop. He motions towards me, I sing him a few lyrics of the song I am listening to, and kindly give him a dollar. Strange, he doesn’t seem too happy with that, stands up, how ungrateful is he, I’ll stick with the usual homeless guy from now on, and I keep on walking. I can hear him shouting now at me, and walking after me. I gave you a dollar buddy, its all I can afford! I take out my earphones, and realize the mistake I had made. Re de de.
Turns out that the homeless guy was not asking me for money, but instead asking me for a light for his cigarette. And it also turned out that he was not in fact homeless, he was just a normal guy sitting down against a wall waiting for the bus. Oh right. Sorry about that boss, no offence intended, the scruffy look is in! At least I got the dollar back too, wuu huu.