So it’s a Friday night. You’re getting ready to go out gallivanting. Brushing your teeth. Doing a little jig. Hear a knock at the door. Hmm. Who’s that? Shimmy your way out, electric toothbrush still whirling away. Open the door. It’s the police. Oh Jesus. What have I done now?
It’s a Sunday night. You’re sick of talking to banterless clowns in dead bars. So you go to a liquor store. And end up down an alley. Trying to have a laugh with some homeless guy. Who’s trying to take a drink from your brown paper bag. Life. Going. Well. Wake up the next day. Look in the mirror. Shake your head. Slap your soul. Say no more. Time to cop on.
Now obviously none of that actually happened. Ahem. However. Ever since that night, I haven’t boozed a drop. Not a sniff. Not a touch. Not a smell. Nothing more. Four weeks and counting. Booze off. Work. On.
Surprisingly, far easier than I anticipated. Thought it might be tough going dealing with clowns while DJing but stick a Red Bull in the system and you’re as dancing as ever. Obviously numerous advantages to this non-boozing too. Such as, the lack of hangovers. Sundays have taken on a whole new meaning, a whole new feeling. Even the lack of mysterious grogginess felt after you’ve only had one or two drinks the night before – Gone. Now refreshed. Clear headed. Raring to go. Thank funk too. No time to be hungover.
Coinciding with a lack of booze, has been an immense amount of work. From an intense trip down the well to get a show bible written, to starting an edit of book three, to planning trips to New York, the Caribbean and London, to setting up meetings in various places, to booking stand up shows here there and everywhere, to meeting producers, to greeting directors, to lining up actors, to gibbering on, to shooting a music video, to traveling all over for DJ jigs, to doing double shifts, to them blurring into quadruple ones, to getting a haircut, to brushing my teeth, to washing my socks, to writing this blogaruu, it has been pretty full on. Look. A hair was cut… Continue Reading »
“Oh God. Why am I holding this man’s hand?” ’Twas the night before Christmas Eve and all was… Dead. First Christmas away from home. Away from the family. Away from my Mum’s mighty Christmas dinner. Aww. Poor little Merrick. Woe is me. All week I’ve been constantly asked, “Will you not miss going home to Ireland for it?” “Well, it would be preferred, but I’ll just have to make do.” Making sure to add, “And besides… In this economy? Hm.” That part usually confuses them enough to ask no more. Besides, I’m sure Cork will miss me just as much. Only the other day did a buddy Diane tell me, “Oh, eh, yeah. Christmas just won’t be the same if you’re not here. Like Disneyland without Mickey Mouse, so it will.”
So that was nice. Being compared to a mouse. Mighty. Anyway, last night I did the 12 Pubs of Christmas. Woke up this morning. Still full to the brim with Christmas cheer. Plan was to go to Charlotte’s for Christmas dinner. First, mass. Must go to Catholic Mass on Christmas Day, my Mum would kill me if she found out I didn’t! As it happens, two churches right around the corner from me. Go on the Google Maps. Hop out of bed. Bounce off a wall. Christmas clothes on. Scuttle around the corner. Blessed myself going into church. Found a seat. Sat down. Kneeled down. Stood up. Realised everyone else was still kneeling. Back down. Spaced out. Joined in. Humming prayers. Head spinning slightly. Saw a sign on the wall: Continue Reading »
Sometimes I like to just go for a cruise and think about the Dutch way of life. Not sure why. Other times I like to go up to Mulholland Drive and gibbering along on my buddy’s podcast. So here is episode two of that! (Apologies. Horrendous. Ha.)
I do believe my stint as a weather girl is my best input: Hot. Apres that. Ahem. Listen on… Continue Reading »
So my younger sister Sarah has been in L.A for the past week. Finishing off her J1 summer. Final hurrah in L-Hey. Usually I dodge like a duck when people are in town. Tour guide duties are a full-time job. Single parent duties and all that. Plus, sometime people seem to demand to be entertained by LA. Not able to relax until they’ve spotted a celebrity. And then it’s not good enough for their celeb standards… Meh, I’ve seen better. Only Brad Pitt. It’d be different if we bumped into someone like Justin Bieber. Oh yeah, sorry about that. Or else folk go out of their way not to be impressed, no matter how impressive. Until they finally just give in and admit to enjoy it. However, being my wonderful sister and all, I said OK so, you can stay with me. Here’s a tent and a pillow, sleep down by the pool.
All jokes aside, it has been mighty having her here. Splendid breath of fresh air. First of all, she’s chilled. Duck to water. Secondly, she’s not too cool to enjoy things. No Daria complex. Thirdly, she loved every minute of it. Everything was unreal. Everything was eye-openingly amazing. Everything made it the best week of her life, like. All of which reminded me: LA. Is. Savage. Continue Reading »