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 »
Confession time: For far too long a period growing up I used to wear turtlenecks. As in, all the time. Pre denim jacket phase. Post oversized sports jacket. Turtlenecks were my item of choice. Anywhere. Everywhere. All the time. Must’ve thought I was French. Or Sean Connery. Not sure if they were actually in fashion according to the herd, but I assume I thought they were the greatest thing of all time. Every significant memory I have from the ages 15-18 involve me wearing a turtleneck. Maybe even push that up to 20. Clearly remember my first turtleneck. Saw it in a wardrobe at home one day. Wondered who owned it. Looks like my kind of top. Looks kind of cool. Let’s see what it looks like on… Oh Betsy! My distorted image of myself in the mirror telling me I was looking good! Very cool! Mum? Muuuuuuuuuummmmmmm! MMMMUUUUUUUMMMM!!!! MUMM!? Mum? Mum?!! MUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM… Oh, hi Mum. Who owns this top? Pardon? You!? Who? No way! Can I have it? Pardon me? Shoulder pads? Oh yeah, wasn’t sure what they were. Pretty cool though, aren’t they!? Right? No? Guys don’t wear shoulder pads? Says who, Mum? What do they know!?! I look cool Mum, don’t I? Sure I do, Mum? Mum? MUU… Continue Reading »
I Can’t Go For That (Member’s Only Remix) – Halls & Oates
Earlier today I saw an offer from an author on Twitter. Buy my book in bulk. Get an experience in return. Buy 75 books: Get a personalised thank you video. Buy 350 books: Have a one hour chat with me on Skype. That kind of thing. Book whuring full on. Honestly I found it pre-tty bizarre. I’m happy when someone buys one copy of Randumb. Who would buy in bulk like that? Was this not just a way to buy your way into the Amazon or New York Times Bestseller charts?! Why did it reek of used car salesman techniques?! Focus. What am I having for lunch!?
Anyways. Apparently. It works. People like to do this kind of thing. Amazing. I know. The author in question (Gary Vaynerchuk) told me he got 100’s of people doing it for his first book. No way… Yes way. Interesting. Got me thinking. Perhaps it’s time for an ultimate Randumb experience. You buy my mighty book. In return. Personally touched. By. Me. Wuu! Duu? So. Here are the mighty experiences I and my team of I have come up with. Please form an orderly queue. Touch on! Continue Reading »
No doubt you will remember well from ages ago in the blog, I quoted a line from Whoopi in Sister Act 2. Remember that? Obviously. You know… “If you wake up thinking about singing, then you are a singer.” Whatever you think about all day is what you are, kind of thing. Leading me to the conclusion at the time that Whoopi was profound (let’s ignore the fact it was a script) and that I was a: Writer. DJ. Woman. Well it turns out that Whoopi did not just come up with that herself on the spot. Nay. Comes from Ralph Waldo Emerson I do believe “A man is what he thinks about all day”. Discovered this today. Obviously this then made me reconsider Whoopi’s genius. And, in turn, rethink my original conclusion for myself. Do I still spend my time thinking about writing, DJing and women all day? Have I evolved? Stagnated? Regressed? What have I been doing all week? What is it I am now?! Time to figure out… Continue Reading »
Some balls. Not happy. Just been flagellating myself off the floor. Feel exactly like Fionn Mac Cumhaill’s son. You know… Oisin. You know… When he left Tir na nÓg on that horse. Warned not to get off. As he would die if his foot touched the ground. Then he fell off, turned into an old man and died. Tut. Fell off the horse. Kind of like me. And the writing horse. You know the one. Horse which gets bigger and bigger and seems harder to get back on the longer you stay off. So when you do try to heave yourself back up you just end up rambling on aboot a mighty old Irish myth. Exactly like Fionn. This is going well. Being back up riding a horse. Words are flowing. Tut. Time for a rant. Funking bouncers… Continue Reading »
Enough Talk, More Writing! 
