Bad Ass Betty

4 Comments

Black Betty – Ram Jam

So the other day I rode a horse.

Bam-a-lam

Her name was Betty.

Bam-a-lam

And I rode her well.

Bam-a-lam

Great horse.

Bam-A-lam

Very bad ass.

Bam-a-lam

Clippity clop.

Bam-A-lam

Kept stopping for plippity plop.

Bam-BA-lam!

Oh brown Betty, the damn thing was wild. Betty was her actual name too, quite mighty. Bit of a rogue horse as well. One minute we’re just trotting along. Cantering on. Admiring the views. How nice is this? The next, Betty’s bolted. Galloping for dear life. Head rearing up. Naying like a dancer! Continue Reading »

Advertisements

Hey Boss… Where Me Worms?!

8 Comments


Far too much of today has been spent being far too confused. Someone changing the layout of my blogaruu… What was that aboot? That guy in Trader Joe’s who just drove his car into a bush next to me… ? That girl who started sobbing while ringing up my food at the till… ? That random dude in the green belly top and pink hat on sideways, who came up to me in the gym, informing me that he too enjoyed soccer – Ok? – and then just stood there. Looking at me. Until I put my iPod back on… Go on the gym. Funk off the confusion.

Thankfully today was also a highly productive day. Fixed up the blogaruu. Bought some food. Went to the gym. And that, was aboot it. Highly productive. Although I did discover a new sandwich today. Swordfish. Peas. Corn. Onions. Toasted. Savage. Oh Jesus. Highly productive day. Exciting stuff. One of those days. Two day hangover in full crystal swing. Feeling a tad ahem-ually hungover as well. What what. Full on weekend. Big day on Saturday. Shindig all the way. Slid into Sunday. Bells ringing. People glowing. Dancing. Non-stop. Top class. Top hat on. Suit pants off. Fun all round. And that’s all I remember aboot that. Encrypt on. Continue Reading »

Slow Down!!!

Leave a comment

Life!!! Slow down! Chill out woman! You are going at too fast a pace for me at the moment. I am neck and neck with the snails. Trundling along at quite a speed. Events, festivities, stories, and dumbness are all happening far too fast for me to write any of it down!!! Seeing as I am using this week to write, I left the stand-up off in Dublin, so sticking around Cork for the second week in a row. Which is fun. And, I got my DJ’ing events mixed up, thanks to a dumb error on my behalf, so I have the weekend off too. Perfect time to write, but not much else seems to be going on.

I mentioned a while back that I was going to try new things while stuck, I mean, back in Cork. Tougher than I thought. The blind date possibility, which I mentioned before, is well and truly done. Never got out of the starting blocks really once I tried to resurrect the situation. It is tough enough at times to transmit wit or sarcasm through a text. When the person getting the text has a limited grasp of English, those tones, plus getting her name wrong constantly on top, do not bode well. Could have made a good blogaruu. Always next time. I suppose could still try the blind date from the classified ads section. Although I can only imagine what standard of fruit would put their name in the hat from those ads. Especially after surveying the situation on nights out recently. Recessionary times seem to keep good looking women locked up at home. Obviously there should be an abundance of sarcasm just bursting out of that sentence. Sure. 

Lets just call today a lull. It is kind of a necessity to be mostly trundling out of Cork, the city of excitement. Seeing as I am saving bobs for heading back to L-Hey, it would be completely stupid to think of moving up to Dublin full on, or trying out London, for a few weeks, while I am waiting on the visa. I admit to maybe at times doing dumb things, but I’m not (that) stupid. Perfect time to write. Is what I keep telling myself. Discipline. Suffer for the art!!!

Being honest, I can deal with the lull at the moment. The lull from the fun, exciting, dumb events which used to land on my lap. When I finished college I was in the same boat. The boat where time/life feels like it is wasting away a bit. Meandering, ox-bow lakes left and right. Life just trundles on, days turn into weeks, weeks are now over a month, and it goes on and on. I can deal with that buzz, and know how to pull out of it. At the moment, it is only a temporary event. It is you, the reader, who I feel a bit bad for. Started off rocking around L.A, bounding and galavanting through many a bizarre maze. Now, I am waddling around the street of Cork, taking in the familiar, yet horrendous, whiff of curry powder. Don’t worry though, the good times will be rolling back soon, I can feel them coming!

Maybe next week when I am in Dublin for my stand-up gig, I’ll kill two birds with the one gig, and bring a classified ad date along. Without telling her that I am actually going to be doing the gig. If my new material starts to bomb, that story alone should pull me through. I would obviously not do that though. Life is not that slow. Yet.

Song of the lull, is a new one with a bit of a kick, thank funk! I used to highly, highly dislike this band, and now, guess what… 

Muse

Fantastisch!!!

Leave a comment

Great news, it seems my dreams are finally falling into place, like a perfect jigsaw. This weekend I became a carnie, wuu, and now today I found out I have two fans. I am not just being presumptuous either, they kindly told me. However, it is not as glamorous as you might think. You might presume they are two hot female fans who love my writing and acting potential. You would presume wrong. Obviously. 

This morning I was up early to watch Everton waltz into the F.A Cup final, a great morning. So, I decided afterwards I would go to the gym earlier than usual. This is where I was fortunate enough to meet my two new fans. They are a proud set of fans if ever I was to choose them.

Since my rocking DJ set, I have been to the gym twice, but both times late at night when it has been dead. Today I went roughly around the time I DJ’ed the last time. Firstly, I’m not really a great fan of striking up random conversation with randomers in the gym. Have you ever tried to talk random crap to a girl while she’s pumping away on a machine or on the treadmill? Her head all red and flustered, looking like she’s just after stressful, sweaty sex or has been sitting on the toilet for too long. It’s not really an ideal place for random chat, to me at least. Other people have a different view it seems.

While I was figuring out one machine, I noticed a guy two over, giving me the eye. At least that is what I thought. I presumed he was gay, but maybe not, I could be wrong. He was an Asian guy, maybe in his 40’s, balding, pencil moustache, pink vest and rainbow knee high socks, and funnily enough, a pair of black shoes. Maybe he wasn’t gay, who knows. Who hasn’t worn that kind of outfit at least once to the gym?! While I am resting between trying to use the machine I am at, he is staring me down while working out on some calf machine. It was then when I realized, stupid me, he was just probably looking at the mirror behind me, not at me, checking out the calves as they like to do here, how cocky was I to have thought otherwise, what an ape. When I noticed that he had started to pant like a pregnant woman, and was definitely not looking at the mirror but staring me down, I decided it might be best if I changed machines, to the far side of the room.

Conveniently enough, he followed me over, sitting on the bench next to me. I dodged eye contact for as long as possible. When he was almost in my face looking at me, I gave him a “How’s it going” and tried to move swiftly on. However, the minute I took an earphone out of my ear to acknowledge his look, he swooped in. “Did you DJ here the other day? You did, you did, oh my gosh, I loved it, I am such a big fan of your music. I love what you did!”  I gave him the “its not actually my music” spiel but he wasn’t listening/didn’t care/couldn’t understand. “So, where do you play?” Eh, I play here, and sometimes, in my room, I play with… I mean by myself. “You’re definitely my favourite DJ in here now, definitely, keep it up!” Pardon me, there are other DJs?! What do they play?! Do you swear I am your number one? Swear?!!

Yet another take on such a simple name managed to end the conversation nicely… So what is your name or do you have a DJ name? After quickly mulling over would I say DJ Tsector after the last girl, I opted not to and stuck with Mark… “Merk? What a great name, is that short for… Merkel?” The “Ha” and what-an-ape-you-are shake of the head I gave in response kind of threw him off, seeing as he gave me a “Hmmmm, ooook, no need to laugh, I was just wondering” and left in a huff. I hope I am still his number one! At least there were no more stares or grunting in my direction after that.

Not from him anyways. Why are there no insane women in the gym, only weird guys?!! While doing one of four sit ups, another random guy next to me started dancing like a mad man to his iPod, pumping it in the air. Again, he too might not have been gay. Who doesn’t flail around to their favourite Britney song, miming the lyrics, at the gym?! I got the familiar feeling of the side of my head being peered at, but this time I had my blinkers on and stared straight ahead, at the wall a foot in front of me. However, this did not deter the dancer. He got more flailing and wild with his arm movements, so that the iPod in his hand was being thrust into my face, as if he was trying to sell it to me. When I asked him if he was ok, was this his space or something- noticing the stuck on the toilet look on his face, lovely – he squealed that he was, he just loves music. “Did you not DJ here the other day? You did! I love music too, I was a big fan of what you played, so great to hear something different, although you never played the Britney I asked for.” I actually didn’t play here at all, the music is not mine, I don’t own it, and its crap anyways, please leave me be. “Don’t be so silly, I saw you, would you do me a super big favour?” No. “Will you make me a CD of music like that?” No. “Aw, really?” Actually, I will, $25, fair price. This got a laugh out of him. He didn’t get that I was being serious though, so he laughed some more. Again he did not get that I would do it for the money (make the CD, obviously), so his laughing tailed off until it dawned on him. We were just left with an uncomfortable silence. I won the battle and the silence at least made him move on.

On my way out of the gym I bumped into big gay Jim. I decided to ask him what the feedback the other day about the music was like, preferably from sane people. He started saying it was super until I cut him off, give me the criticism Jim, I can praise myself all I need. “Well, there was one person who said a bad thing.” Go on… “Our assistant General Manager didn’t like one of the songs you played, you’ll have to impress her next time”. One song? I played for 2 hours and she picks out one song! What does she know, I way prefer gay men over women anyways, when it comes to taste in music, obviously. I took the criticism with a pinch of salt, I swear. Wait until I show that b***h tomorrow.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad having two weird dudes as fans after all. Better than no-one at all. I’ll have to play them a bit of Britney next time to make sure they stay on board, a nice little treat. I might make knee high rainbow socks my signature look too for DJ’ing. While I’m at it, I might as well go all out and try their approaches on Holly Valance the next time I see her in the gym. Surely she’ll fall for my sweaty, grunting, red head look.

Here’s my song to get the assistant manager bopping around her tomorrow, I got some insider knowledge that she likes this band… Knights Of Cydonia (Ocelot Remix) by Muse