Amerricka! Funk Yeah!

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I Want To Break Free – Mariachillout

Seeing as the rest of America is celebrating its birthday and its right to dance, I feel now is the perfect time to do a quick expose. Show the people of Ireland (et al) the truth! What it’s really like to live in LA. Won’t lie, pre-tty gruesome. Remember Schindler’s List? Kind of like that. Exactly. Ish. Maybe. Not at all…

So at times I’m required to work under absolutely dreadful conditions. Outside. Sweltering. Loud. Noisy. Crowded. Eye sores. Everywhere. Just. Tut. Terrible.

Apologies. Should’ve given ye a warning. My bad. As you can see, that was tough. To make matters even worse, some days we’re required to do this after work… Continue Reading »

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Going Robe…

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We Are The Champions – Mariachillout

Quiet old week. On the blogaruu at least. In the surreal world, busy as usual. Vital stuff too. Such as: My ability to somehow provoke strangers into instant dislike. Going strong. Other night in the gym. Quiet enough. Only two others in there. Finishing up. About to leave. iPod on. Randomer says something to me. Pardon? ‘Are you finished with them?’ Yeah, all yours buddy. ‘Put your weights back.’ Which now? ‘Your weights. You left them next to the machine.’ Not my weights. ‘I said put them back!’ (Perhaps now is a good time to mention this guy appeared to be a gimp from the minute he walked in to the gym. Small. Angry. Balding. Purpley red head. Veins trying to jump out of his neck. Wrist bands. Ankle bands. Swinging arms. Flexing into the mirror. Hitting his head before doing any exercise. Cherry on top. Wearing a blue-tooth ear piece. In the gym. On the phone. Shouting out a conversation. While working out. Whole time he was there. Also appeared he was some sort of a spoof agent. Complete. Utter. Gimp. Continue Reading »