Can’t beat being on the front page of a newspaper wearing a leprechaun hat. Couldn’t find a version online so here’s the original gibber. Recent radio interview too where I ramble on and on and on. New book PREDUMB out soon. Narcissistic levels reaching new high.
Mountain Dew – The Clancy Brothers
Blacks, whites, Asians, Native Americans, almost everyone I’ve met since I came to L.A. claims to be Irish in one way or another. At first it annoyed me purely because their logic was so ridiculous.
One guy told me one night at a party “I’m Irish too!” Oh yeah, what part are you from? “Ohio.” Oh really? I wasn’t aware that was in Ireland. “Yeah, it’s not.” And then he walked away.
Hello fine folk of le blogaruu. How are you? That’s nice. Just got back from the most mightiest trip ever. First stop was a blissful couple of weeks in heaven. (Private tropical island with miles and miles of pink sand, rum punches and no bodies.) Followed by a brief detour in hell. (Vegas. Stag party. Fun. Funk. Fear.) All adventures shall soon be scribbled down. Normal blogaruu service shall soon be resumed. The whole writing a book affair really put a dampener on things. Awful altogether. Subjecting you to those Joke of the Day monstrosities. Tut.
Unfortunately I am now, as we say, goosed. So I must sleep. Rest. Be merry. And then I’ll scribble the gibber. To tie you over, I found this mighty book trailer for RanDumber. (Out. Very. Soon!)
And also, I just found out someone has leaked another chapter from said book. How on earth is it being leaked drip by drip? Who would do such a thing?! Tut.
Very sad day. Just took down my Christmas tree. Meant to do it last weekend but I couldn’t bear the thought/too lazy. Now it’s down. Meaning Christmas is over. Done. Dusted. Out. Buried. No more. Hard to take. Although the thing is:
Does Christmas ever even start in LA?
Not at all.
Week leading up to Christmas: No buzz. At all. Few places had decorations up, of course. Shops were plumping and pimping out Christmas deals. But all felt fake. Selling. As opposed to cheerful. Plus, I too was working a good bit – Book on – so it kept my mind off the cold, hardened, heathen, non-Christmas buzz in the air. People don’t even say ‘Happy Christmas’ here. It’s all ‘Happy Holidays!’ Just in case you somehow offend someone? Funk. That. Christmas. On! Ye whures.
Pint Per Pub. Shots Encouraged, But Purely Optional...
As always, 12 Pubs of Christmas held high hopes for kicking the Christmas buzz into gear. As always, initial responses to the mighty pub crawl were lukewarm/confused/uninterested/horrendous. Mighty. Thankfully, closer to the day, a group formed, Christmas jumpers were purchased, and the crawl was on. (Either way I was going on it but always nicer to have others in dodgy Christmas jumpers join you on your way.)
That was a good hoot at least. Quite and polite at first. Chug and chug at second. Warming up at third. Banter at fourth. And people out of their shells at five. As always, one quiet guy in the group burst out of his shell with a demonic smile. Hilarious guy who I know only as Dave. Don’t remember much about him. Just that Continue Reading »
Fine folk of le blogaruu! Have a listen to me being interview gibbered by Robbo Williams about my book RanDumb as part of his new show Rudebox Radio. My drone comes in around the 63 minute mark. Just before Gary Barlow. Listen on! Duu…
Ménage à trois. Sounds unreal. Holy grail. Conjures up magical imagery. Hot. Toned. Tanned. Women. Feathers. Candles. Wings. Gloriousness. Fireplaces. Rugs. Cherries. Berries. James Bond bedroom scene style lighting. Saxophones, hooting from somewhere. Kenny G next to the roaring fire, no doubt. Tooting out the soundtrack. Seeing as it is the Holy Grail, Indiana Jones comes swooping in with a whip. In case one of the girls is into that. Whips. All that gibber. Funreal! Although. A lot of dudes are in this threesome. Which. Is. Odd. Anyways… Continue Reading »