Tag Archives: The Examiner

Tough Life at Sea…

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Here be an article I wrote that was in the Examiner last week. Front page too. Wuu.

Ways to Go – Grouplove

Imagine you are a fish, swimming in an ocean filled to the brim with other fish who are a lot like you but better in many ways. And instead of not wanting to be caught, you, the fish, are desperate to be reeled in by the fisherman. “Cast me, cast me!” you plead with your eyes as the fisherman toys with you in his net. “To keep and cast or to be thrown back in the ocean with all the other duds?” the fisherman asks himself as he examines you up and down like a piece of meat. Imagine all that – Welcome to the wonderful world of Hollywood auditions! Continue Reading »

A Hollywood Christmess Story

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Sant

In Dulci Jubilo – Mike Oldfield

Merry Christmas RanDummies and mighty blogaruu readers! Hope you are still getting your turkey sweats on. While you do, why not enjoy this piece which I wrote for an Irish paper recently. Pants off. Trifle. On!

A Hollywood Christmess Story

Is that Slash? Hmm. Is he looking at me? Hmm. Not sure. Is it him? Is he real? Am I drunk? What’s going on? Hmm. I’m going back for a kip.

Next morn. Stephen’s Day. Boxing Day? Not sure what they call it here in L.A. Eyes open. I’m on a couch at Robbie Williams’ house. Awake. Alone. Alive. Stiff back. Slept awkwardly. No sign of Slash. No sign of anyone. All left. Or upstairs. Sleeping. Sensible folk. Unlike me and my dry mouth. Tastes like glue. And so this is Christmas. Continue Reading »

Stop. Press. Print!

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This Must Be The Place (Viceroy Edit) – Talking Heads

Mighty weekend. Went to a secret sale on Friday. Bought a pair of $200 jeans for $5. Came home. Tried them on. Drove my foot through the crotch. Down to the knee. Ripped jeans apart. Mighty. Money’s Worth Hayes, they call me.

DJigged Friday and Saturday all day and night. Managed not to taser any clowns and their moronic requests.  Continue Reading »

Weekend at Bernie’s

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Running Up That Hill (Louis La Roche Remix) – Kate Bush

Some things in L.A appear will never change. Not unless I do, anyway. Such as, people calling me by the wrong name over and over. Ever growing list at this stage. The usuals still apply. Merrick. Eric. Omar. Moved on a lot to Merk. Murk. Maaaaarrrk. Sometimes when I say my full name I get mistaken for a Mexican guy named Marquez. And then at one point someone working at Coffee Bean thought my name was America. Combination of being asked a question by two people at the same time: ‘Your name… Merrick?’ ‘So a large coffee?’ Eh, Mark – Yeah… ‘Coffee for America!’ Although another time I asked for coffee recently I got the reply: ‘Cathy? I’m not too sure. Let me check – Hey guys, does a Cathy work here? Sorry man, no Cathy.’

So that was fun.

Considering all of the name confusion that has already occurred due to my accent and mumbles (along with everyone in L.A having lazy ears, tut), I was still a bit surprised about my name morphing earlier on today: Continue Reading »