Tag Archives: gym

Oops, I Did It Again!

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Today was a tale of two jobs. With the outcome more or less the exact same – all work and no pay. I have a feeling it will be a looong post, so I will break it up into two, one for each fun job!

First on the agenda, was my DJ’ing debut in the gym. Mucho gracias to everyone on Spacebook that suggested songs for me to play, they were highly appreciated. Even though I actually did not use any of them this time. However, they did lead me down the long tail to finding ridiculously good remixes and bootlegs of class songs. So, once again, thanks for the indirect help. And to everyone on Twitter who might read this and did not bother to suggest anything at all, ye pr**ks, let me down.

With my music sorted, and my new brilliant DJ software in tow, I was highly pumped to get the gym rocking. And, this time, I wouldn’t just be pleasing big gay Jim on his own, I would get to please the whole gym of gay dudes, with the splattering of hot women, orgy on! In I went, confidently striding up to the front desk, unlike the last time. I am here to DJ. The guy at the front desk gives me the nod, I am good to go.

Up to the equipment and set up my gear. Which consists of my laptop, a lead to connect it to the sound system (they have it already, good waste of $18, a lot on my budget) and my headphones. I soon find out only my laptop is needed, headphones are props too it seems. I realize that the slot needed to connect to the sound system is where my headphones go. Headphones are needed for effect at least, so I plug them into the next and only other available slot, no sound comes through them, but at least it looks more legit than being caught with them not hooked up to anything but stuck in my pocket! I would now be mixing using headphones that will actually block out the music, ha, should be even easier now.

However, the minute the first song goes on, I know I am in a different type of trouble. I pick a remix of a well known song, not too left-field and well suited for a gym vibe. The people I can see in my vicinity perk up their ears. I can see the puzzled look of them recognizing the song kind of, they know those lyrics, but not the beat or the music. But their feet are tapping, hips are popping, asses shaking and heads are bopping. Oh no, this has started too well. There is only one way this is going and I am not ready for it after the big gay Jim incident. 

The song kicks in and the magic happens. Big gay Jim comes flaming out of nowhere “I love this song, pump it up!!!!” No problem Jim, where’s the volume though? Ha, amidst a sea of buttons and knobs, on the sound board obviously, I find the volume and we’re off! Here’s the opener… Smells Like Neon Spirit by Nirvana vs Disco Trash Music

Not one to blow my own trumpet, but I have done well and picked my music wisely. The place is soon rocking. The only mistake I feel is choosing Boyz by M.I.A (“where my boys at”) but going well besides that. I am getting away on the mixing side of things (end a song and start the next one with similar beats, blend, hope for the best, DJ on!) and big gay Jim wont stop giving me the thumbs up. Before I go any further, a Seinfeld joke springs to mind. One of his stand-up jokes is of how people take compliments about their clothes so personally. As in, if someone says “Nice jacket” the person wearing it might take the compliment too much to heart, as if they had personally stitched and hand made the jacket. When, all they did was pick it out and wear it. 

So, when people start coming up to me to compliment me on ‘my’ music, I give a thanks, they’re not actually my songs, I am a great picker though, cheers. The hardest part I found was making myself look busy up there and as if I was doing something. Headphone to one ear held up with one hand, fool around on my keyboard with the other, blend the two songs, look busy. It is all going swimmingly well, until my laptop crashes ruining my mixing, ha. At least two guys starting doing a fake chant “We want more, we want more” and then a big gay “Yaaaaaaay” when it was back up and running. 

The requests for Britney and Madonna are non-stop too, cliche on! A few people are even asking me for my DJ card, eh, what’s that? One guy, however, who is blatantly not a fan, is the guy behind the counter. I notice that when my head is up from pretending to be busy, he pretends to like it and bop a bit. But, when he thinks I am not looking, there is no foot tapping or bopping, until he sees me again, then spoof dances. The song I just put on is a long one, so having nothing to do, I decide to stare him down, to see if he cracks and just admits he doesn’t like it. Stubborn little guy though, he fake dances his heart out for me, I appreciated it.

Surprisingly, even a girl came up to compliment the music as well. Enthusiastic and popping off walls, she comes bouncing up to me, blah blah blah, what’s your name? She asked me this just when a song was changing, so I had to pretend to be busy and mixing. I tell her “Two secs there” as in, hang on two minutes, while I do this, and I will tell you then. She obviously understands me word for word, responds with “Tsector, what an awesome name, good job!” and off she bounces again before I could speak anymore hubbula hubbula to her. Unfortunately too, there was no sign of Bros, so his song will have to remain on ice until the next day.

My two hour set finishes up, I am pumped to the max, head is inflating from the new found respect I have from the gym staff and I manage to get Jim to realize it will never happen. As I am hobbling downstairs from the DJ area  (knee is still dodge), Jim is squealing in joy, balls, I made it too good again. Merrick, awesome, woah, I am sweating after that, and he then starts to tell me how much better it was than he thought it would be (the music and my DJ’ing, obviously). I am concentrating on my hobbling and the stairs and when he notices my gimp limp, asks why am I hobbling. Soccer, crocked, rar diddy rar. “Ooooo, you play soccer? What don’t you do?!!” Eh, men, for one Jim, sorry to disappoint. Ha, even if the guy behind the counter didn’t like my music, he laughed at my joke. In fairness to big gay Jim, he took it well too. The joke, obviously!!!

Song of the day, there could’ve been so many, but here’s a good one to make people think you can mix… Roxanne (DiscoTech Remix) by The Police

Ricky Bobby, We Meet Again…

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Having had such a productive day yesterday, I knew it would be hard to top it today. Started well though, got an email from the girl in the acting school I was at yesterday. She is offering me more classes to audit next week if I like, happy days, I feel bad for the others in there who paid thousands for the classes, I think she has a soft spot for a gibberish Irish accent and a big ball of hair, ha.

Back to being productive, time to start belting into my 19 bullets points of things to do. After the Champions League, obviously. It is tough enough watching matches here at times. I have two options for commentary, English with the American commentators and an imitation Irish guy, Tommy Smyth, or plug for the Mexican channel and not understand the Spanish commentary. There is only so much “Put it in the onion bag” and “The teams are the exact same team, just with different players” that I can bear. It was way better listening to the Goooooooooool when Ronaldo scored anyways. Here’s the only video I could find of Tommy, just to give you inkling to how bad he might be if he wasn’t reading from a script.

Next port of call was the gym, time to sort out when I was to DJ there. Up I hobble, the dodgy knee not taking kindly to the steps up to the gym, or the slight hill on my street, it was a struggle to say the least today for some reason. Rock, paper, scissors, how’s it going with big gay Jim, what was the story with the other day, rar diddy rar, oh I was meant to plough on and just play, cool cool, I know now at least, will I do it tomorrow for a couple of hours? Era shur, I’m a changed man, plough on! So, I broached getting refunded for the amount I had paid for the month in exchange for my immense DJ’ing skills, and a deal was struck. I am getting half of it back, and can pick what ever days I want to play a week (eh, just the one so I’d say Jim), and the gym would be back to being free for me. Nay too shabby. And the elusive, secret, Open Sesame way I now have if anyone questions my membership, is to just say “I DJ here”. Thats it. What a waste of paying for half the month. If anyone is in the neighborhood, I would highly recommend using my secret code to get themselves free gym. Ali Baba on!

With that sorted, I decided to hobble home and get back to my hefty list of things to do. My luck was out with the escalators (broken for about a week now, with the membership us members pay, it is about time they were fixed, ha), so had to hobble back down the steep flight of steps coming out of the gym. Steep steps are proving the biggest killer, if anyone can diagnose what is wrong with my knee from that information alone, please let me know. I eventually get down outside the gym and Sunset complex, at a big junction between my house and the gym, the green man is flashing to cross and the countdown is on. I have faith, I can make it across the road in 10 seconds, here I go.

And go I went, as fast as my knee would let me. It was killing me though so I was dragging my leg across the road. A car on the other side of the road got impatient and tried to cut across me and drive on but as they turned their option was to either hit me and drive on, or wait patiently and block the oncoming traffic. I was pottering along as fast as I could, but the car starts honking its horn at me. So, I slow down and look at the ape in the car. A blonde girl is driving the car and giving me a come-on-to-funk look, cross the road you hobbling ape. But she is not the one beeping. The dude in the passenger seat is beeping and also giving me a come-on-to-funk look, but more, if I was driving I would have drove over you at this stage. 

Obviously, I make sure to slow down, the horn is being beeped continuously by the guy, loud enough as well, so I put my hand to my ear and shrug my shoulders as if I can’t understand what the horn means or what he wants me to do. Cross what? Who? The road? Pardon me, I’m Irish, we don’t have these big roads at home. The other cars are now freaking at them now for blocking the road, the guy starts to give me the finger as I begin to hobble on again. I oblige and return the favour, thumbs up buddy, bending down slightly and leaning in towards the windscreen to make sure he sees. It is then when I notice it is my old buddy, old pal from the Hills, Ricky Bobby!!!

The fact that he had a hood on over his head meant I didn’t really see who it was until I peered in. I had a hood on too, so when I do peer in, I get the feeling he vaguely recognized my ape face and head from the drunken night in My House before, obviously he does not remember my name is Merrick, Eric or Omar. Or else he thought I might have actually been retarded by responding with a thumbs up, ha. Either way, next time he comes up to me in My House, there will be no high fives or sharing bottles of vodka, I am cutting him loose. 

Here is song of the day, which should’ve been used yesterday, seeing as Liverpool were knocked out of a cup competition. The last time they were, by Everton, wuu duu, there was a funny story to go along with the song. Weeks back, I was watching Everton play Liverpool in the F.A Cup. I had played this song on my laptop while having breakfast that day, and one of my roommates remarked how it was interesting that I liked that song and that band. Ok. So, I’m watching the match, my roommate comes back home from meeting her friend, who is now with her. How’s it going boss, big game on, give me a minute. He asks who’s playing, but as he does, Everton score in the last minute, last gasp winner, I am wuu huu’ing my way around the room (being an Everton fan) giving them high fives, hugs, great day, we beat Liverpool. It is then when I recognize the dude… the lead singer from this band, funking nuts! My first introduction to weirdness in L.A! After that long winded introduction, here’s the song… The Underdog by Spoon

It is a savage song, and they are a savage band. The song just came on my iTunes and if you did not gather, I wanted to include that story for ages, ha, hence the weak link, well worked really! The dude was sound, telling me about playing in Dublin with Interpol, not sure if many people in Ireland even know of them but Spoon on!!!!!

Gymps!!!

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I am trying to decide whether I will start my roommate’s fun filled blog today instead of mine or tell you about my ape like story? Ape, I hear you say? Ape it is. 

Big day yesterday. A very nervous day for me. First day of my new job, remember, the one that doesn’t pay me any money. Big day for a chump like me. Seeing I was on at 12, had no mixing equipment, or mixing ability that I know of (yet), I got up at 11 to prepare for work. I hooked up a 3 hour playlist, where every song ended with a similar sounding beat the to start of the next one, mixaruu on! All I needed to do was stand there with my headphones, pretend to be mixing, and I was a born again DJ.

Having re-read my spoof DJ cue cards with all my lingo, found my best DJ-esque t-shirt and equipped with my laptop and cable, I was good to go. The sun was shining, L.A was buzzing, the walk up to the gym had me pumped. In I get, and go to the front desk, informing the girl I was here to DJ, wuu, get ready to be pumped. She gives me an inquisitive look, oook, let me just check, I was never told anything about that and the manager has just left. Ooook, I’ll just go get a Red Bull to wake me up. So I go over to the little shop part, Red Bull it up, ah shur would you look who it is, my old buddy Common has come to join me for a beverage. 

While he is waiting for a shake of some sort to be made, he seems to remember me and sparks up some conversation (my achievements have taken a beating lately, so at this stage, the fact that someone remembers who I am is pleasing, how the standards have dropped!). “What up Irish, are you in working out?” Not today my common man, I am DJ’ing in a minute. “In the gym? How did you get that gig? Funds your drinking at least man!” I choose not to tell him that I won’t be getting paid money for the gig, just great publicity and all that crap, ha. I realize that Common has now a new found respect for me it seems, he has gotten the impression that I am in the music business as well. I forget as well to inform him that I am actually not, who was I to burst his bubble.

While we are talking music, and as Common gives me one of his demos to see if I will play it sometime, ha, spoof, I notice that the guy with the fairly bulbous head next to us is trying to edge into the conversation. Back off buddy, I am letting Common sell me the concept of his demo, give the man a chance. At a second glance, I see that its Craig David (I think anyways, looked like him, English accent, sounded like him, I am presuming it was him). I didn’t really want him to give me a demo of his to play as well, so I ignore his efforts to join in. Around this time the girl from the front desk comes back over, and ruins it all.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt, you’re actually not DJ’ing at all today.” I look at Common, and see the respect drain from his face. He thinks I am a spoofing ape, tuts at me, shakes his head, then says he’ll be off, must go work-out. As he goes up the stairs, he turns around taking one last look, a look of disgust, and shakes his head, how could that Irish guy have led me on! I swivel to the girl working there, you ruined it all woman, how could you do that, you gymp!!! “Yeah, Jim said you were going to come in on Monday at 12? Not today” I told Jim yesterday I would start tomorrow, as in today. “Oh yeah, that probably meant come in on Monday” Oh right, that makes plenty of sense. I am being turned away from my new job that I won’t get paid for, this is a great feeling.

She tells me that she could ring the manager again and see if I could do it maybe for an hour now. The pity vote. However, I get the feeling she might not know much about setting up the sound system, so I inquire if she does first before she goes back and rings the manager. “No, I wouldn’t have a clue, you should be able to figure it out though, right, it should be easy for you.” Ha, do I look like a DJ or something to you? I’ll hold off until Monday, I don’t want to risk feeling even stupider by struggling to set up my equipment, i.e plug my cable into the correct slot, rocket science really.

The dejection and gimp feeling on the walk home was tremendous. Just when I thought things could stoop no lower or become more comical, lower they go. To save myself looking like a complete fool, as opposed to just a gimp, I decide to buy mixing software so that when I do go up on Monday I can at least have that up on screen and pretend to be using it if anyone walks by. It only cost me $50. Which was great. So far it has cost me only about $68 ($18 cable that I’m still not sure is going to be the right one) to not work at a place that wont pay me anyways if I do every end up working there. Great work if you can get it, lucky me!!!

At least I have a plan to spruce up the gig on Monday if it does actually go ahead. I am mulling over having the dude from Bros’s song at hand if he happens to be in working out. About time someone else is embarrassed in that gym besides just me. Song of the day was needed to chill me out on the way home… Paper Aeroplane by Angus & Julia Stone

Who Needs Money Anyways? Actually, I Do.

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Slowly, but surely, I can feel the straw breaking. I am kind of getting weary of my stories being funny but ending in a dumb way. There is only so much one can take. How hard is it to do fairly straight forward daily tasks, such as find a job, buy a car, write a sitcom, win an Oscar, OR FIND A FUNKING JOB THAT ACTUALLY PAYS MONEY!!! If you are a chump like me, it seems, fairly funking impossible. 

From now on, I think I shall set up a blog for my roommate and document her daily life instead of my repetitively annoying one. Hers is far better. Today, for example, we kind of had similar days – we chilled, had some lunch, went shopping, and both of us found out we had a job tomorrow. However, there were a few minor differences. Just slightly.

Back to the start. Today I was going up to big gay Jim in the gym to find out if I had the DJ’ing job or not, yes or no, tell me once and for all, at least then the limbo would be over for yet another job. Up to the gym, big gay Jim is on the front desk, shrieks, gasps for air and covers his mouth with his hand when he sees me. “Oh my Gaaawd Omar, I am so, so, sooo sorry, I was meant to call you on Wednesday!” Too right you were, I have been having sleepless nights over the lack of calls, I knew you didn’t use me for that one demo! He was meant to have informed me on Wednesday that the operations manager gave the all clear, I was good to go, play my great music from 12-3 in the afternoons. I actually gave him a wuu huu and high five, go on the big gay Jim, no I don’t want a hug, you’ve gone too far again, era shur, why not, you got me a job, lets hug this b**ch out Jim!!!

Walking on air (not only did I become a struggling paid writer this week, I was now a struggling DJ!), Jim takes me to meet the staff, how’s it going lads, top of the morning girls, blah diddy blah. I am then shown the equipment and their set-up, spoof on, you can plug your mixer in here, your sound card goes there, your bits go here, and your things slots in here. Too far Jim, too far. Eh, do you have a cable that will connect my laptop to your big load of gadgets? No. Ok, I’ll go buy that now so.

Just before I leave, I ask Jim the schedule. Well, 12-3, how many days a week do you want to come in? How many??!!! I’ll do every day this week, I have a free schedule I told you. “Oh great Merrick, everyday would be wonderful, when do you want to start?” When? Tomorrow!! This is brilliant, I can pick and choose my days, I will see you then. Oh yeah, ha, almost forgot, what is the story with getting paid? “Paid? As in money? Oh we don’t pay our DJs, its good publicity for you, and free membership.” What. The. Funk. Are you joking me? Are you actually being serious with me? Publicity for what? Have you ever heard of subsistent living Jim? Do you know what the bread line is all about??!!! I don’t think I am getting you right here, no pay?? I started to get a bit dizzy and light headed at this stage when my brain can’t process this happening once again. “So, Eric, tomorrow at 12?” Ugghhh, pardon, where am I, what’s going on? Tomorrow at 12? Ehh, yup, I will see you then.

I walk out of the gym dazed and confused. What is going on, have I got the whole concept of working wrong in L.A? Does society have different rules here where only the rich get paid for very little work and those struggling to make ends meet are expected to work for free? I stumble into Starbucks across the way, needing a coffee to gilt me out of this bizarre mind boggling state. As I am ripping opening Splendas (ha) and pouring them into my coffee, then dumping the empty packs in the bin, I notice a girl laughing next to me. Obviously, at me. I had just ripped open a Splenda, poured it into the bin part, and put the empty pack in my coffee. 3 times. Funking ape. At least I got a new coffee. And the girl joined me while I was having my coffee. And she was impressed that I was a DJ who weirdly played in a gym (I left out the doing it for free part). And I got her number. At least I can do that right. Or so I thought.

My roommate picked me up from Starbucks so we could go shopping. She had to buy a pair of boots, I had to buy that lead I needed to hook my laptop up to their sound system (Not only was I not getting paid money to play, seeing as I needed a lead, it would cost me money to work there, chumpy mac). So I get into my roommate’s tank of a car, and she asks if I got the job. I did, but… she gives me a wuu huu, and tells me “I got a job too”. Wuu huu for you so as well, I actually start mine tomorrow, but the thing about the job I got is that I won’t… “No way, my job is tomorrow too, only a one day shoot, but still, we are both working tomorrow, thats great!” Yeah, but, the thing with my job is, eh, what’s your job first actually “I have a photo shoot for a magazine with Ryan Gosling, it should be fun!” That should be fun, almost as much fun as my job. Are you getting paid for yours? “Yeah, of course, so what were you saying about your job, the only thing was…?” The only thing was… the only thing was… what was I saying again, oh yeah, only thing was that I don’t get paid for my job. “What? Really? Another non-paying job? Why?” Not sure really, I actually have no idea what’s wrong with me. “Oh, eh, still though, at least it’s a job” Yeah, its the job being a chumpy mac.

Back to me thinking I could at least get a girl’s number, I hadn’t turned into a complete dumb ape yet. Oh, how I was wrong. Sent the girl a text, you should come by the gym tomorrow, check out the great European music I’ll be playing. Bring your dancing shoes, I’ll teach you an Irish jig, giddy up them steps. That kind of smooth crap. Just got a reply saying she would love to, what time. Not too bad, until I read past the first line… My boyfriend is from Europe too, he has been dying to hear some good music since he’s been here, he wants to come along with his friends, if thats cool?!!! Ahhh, of course it is, of course you have a boyfriend, of course, tell him bring all his friends. What time did you say? I am on the decks from 5 onwards, I got it wrong earlier, it’s not 12 to 3 like I said, actually on at 5, see you then!

I had better get some sleep. Must get up early, seeing as I’m on at 12 and all, ha. Here’s the song I shall be playing to myself all night to get me in the right frame of mood for tomorrow… Great DJ by The Tings Tings

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

Pumping. Spinning. Sweating. Oh Jesus, What Have We Done Jim?!!!

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Priority number one at the moment is to find a job. The movie career has been put on hold until this has been accomplished. One needs to have money for food, and all. Here are my highly promising and highly stable job possibilities, which I have lined up at the moment:

1. Design a website for a DJ/club promoter, who actually asked me would I design it, but since then has been dodging me;

2. Fix and update a website for a film festival, but I think they think I will do it for free in return for my company (?) getting free advertising;

3. Selling shamwows;

4. DJ’ing and promoting in a bar/restaurant after hours, but still no meeting lined up with the owner, and, finally;

5. DJ’ing in the gym I go to, ha, probably the most likely of them.

This is the best I can muster up it seems, my degree and masters are being fully used to the highest degree. I am useless.

Moving on, yesterday the dude working in the gym, Jim we’ll call him, asked me to drop in a demo of the music which I would play to liven the place up. I should probably mention now my DJ’ing skills consist of having good music, and bob all mixing. I bought a mixer once, never used it, and ended just blending songs in on my iTunes whenever needed, I was quite the DJ wizard. I only had one blank CD to burn my demo onto, so just had the one shot at it really, great preparation. I chose my top 5, stuck them on the CD and got a quick tutorial from my DJ buddy for any lingo I may need if asked. Equipment, mixers, sound cards, song bits, sound checks, bits of card, plugs, wires, blenders, I was well equipped to spoof on if needed. In return for the tutorial I said I would give his podcast a mention, http://tantricdex.podomatic.com/. 

Up to the gym I go, I was pumped, the songs I picked were rocking, perfect for the gym. Jim greets me trying to pound fists, I give him paper, we’re off to a good start. “Thanks Merrick, I’ll have a listen and let you know.” Funk that, throw it on now Jim, I need a job!!! He doesn’t know how to use the equipment behind the desk, so says he’ll listen to it in the room they use for the spinning classes and let me know. Jim, listen to it now and tell me, I’m on my last few coppers. I manage to get him to go to the spinning room there and then to listen to the CD. 

We get into the spinning room, he tells me to have a seat. As there are only bikes in the room, I sit on a bike. He sits on a bike at the top of the class, next to the CD player, and turns my demo on. We were on the road. First song is brilliant, an indie remix. It gets me pumped straight away. Jim has an ear cocked to the music, his head starts to bop, he is feeling the tune. It is then that I notice I have started to cycle the bike I’m sitting on, the music got me going. The song is really kicking in, I’m pedaling a bit more, I notice Jim has started too.

I snap out of the pedaling “Next song Jim, it is even better!”. Song 2 is put on, which is even more rocking. We’re both pedaling a bit, his head is bopping like a toy dog on a dashboard, fingers clicking, I’m pedaling faster, he is pedaling faster, this is the greatest demo ever! Third song the beat slows a bit. However, once it kicks in, Jim is funking loving it. Clapping his hands, pumping them out, gay head bopping around as if Madonna was in the room, he’s pedaling, the music has me pedaling, I couldn’t stop, I made the demo too good!

At this stage I am getting worried. I know the fourth and fifth song are better than the first three. The fourth is a French house song, funking savage, almost too good though is what I’m thinking, this is veering off into something I was not expecting. He had asked if I could make the demo have a European vibe, something different, so when he hears the French lyrics, he almost squeals like a girl/pig, and starts pedaling away furiously. His shoulders are shrugging like a gay robot, he is pumping the air with his hands, loving it! I realize then that I can’t stop pedaling, the music has me hooked, you try sit on a bike and not pedal with that music playing! At this stage we are pedaling in synch, to the music, to the beat, faster, faster, oh Jesus, this is the best part of the song, it is really going to kick in “Change the song Jim, change it, song 5, Jim, quick, stop this!”

Jim puts on the final song. I know how good it is, so start to feel very nervous and afraid. I’m starting to feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead, I have to stop pedaling in synch, it’s like we are one, oh Jesus, why did I make this demo so good! The final song is building up, Jim at this stage has his lips pursued, eyes closed, head back in the air, legs pumping, hands in the air still squealing. I’m cycling in synch to the music, and with Jim, what is going on, turn it off Jim, turn it off, I didn’t know this was going to happen, it was only meant to be a demo!!! The song is kicking in for the last time, the big chorus, the last hurrah, this is what it was all about. I can’t resist any longer, no energy to hold back, I just give in and go with the music. My hands are in the air, legs pumping to the beat, biting my lip, this is the greatest song ever, my head is bopping, wuu, eyes shut tight, work it out, feel the beat, oh jesus, is this some sort of gay sex, what is going on!!!

Finally, the song finishes up. I feel naked and exposed, sweating, red head, dizzy, gasping for air, thank God I stopped at five songs! Jim sparks up a cigarette, looks at me, and tells me “That was good, I enjoyed it, good work.” Oh sweet Lord, what just happened? Why did I not play the usual mundane crap they have on repeat in there instead. I felt violated, are we meant to hug now? Jim tells me he’ll call me, he must let the other manager hear it as well and they’ll work out a schedule if she likes it too. He hasn’t called me yet. The bastard used me.

On my way out I got some better news at least, I have a new target. Holly Valance is also a member of my gym, although she wasn’t looking the May West I must say. Not to worry though, hopefully for her, if I get the job, she will have my music pumping her on and she’ll be back to her best in no time. I just better not have been used for a quick demo, I feel so cheap.

Two songs of the day. I couldn’t find the French one on Youtube that tipped the scale so here’s the first song that got the ball rolling… Viva La Vida (DiscoTech Remix) by Coldplay

Second one is a Kings of Leon remix also included… Sex On Fire (Richard Sharkey & Peter Sar Remix)

I was actually going to put a 6th song on at the end, as a joke, but at the last minute decided not to, just in case they didn’t see the funny side of it. The song was, and this is not a lie, Wake Me Up Before You Go Go by Wham. Thank funk I didn’t.