I’VE HAD SOME SLEEP! WOOHOO! 9 whole frikkin’ hours of pure undiluted snoozery filled with some severely mad cap dreams and quite possibly some classic old school snoring (I wouldn’t know, I was asleep). Batteries recharged? Feeling like I could leap over lampposts? Er……no. Just more sleepy now. Stupid sleep. I did lots of things yesterday to ensure I’d feel a tad rested today, like eating well and even getting a backrub from the excellent Marissa (masseuse extraordinaire) because my shoulder’s currently feel like someone’s padded them out with lumps of wood. This is quite cool in a hard man sort of way and I’d like to think I could probably break someone’s face on them if I needed to, but I wouldn’t be able to move my arms around properly to get them there in the first place. Then I only had two pints (Edinburgh equivalent of no drinks), and went home via a filth stop to get some chips and cheese. Chips and cheese should be listed on menus as just ‘Fat’ or ‘Heart Attack for One’. I like it, but at the same time can never get too far into it without the realisation of what I’m eating, feel a tad retchy and just put it in the bin. Yesterday I achieved two thirds of the box. Yes yes there are children starving in Third World countries, but trust me, they would not want chips and cheese. It is definitely the cuisine of the pig. Even then, pigs would probably only 3/4 through a box before feeling like they’d need some sort of defibrillator to survive the rest. If someone used a defibrillator on a pig, would they smell of bacon for days after? So many thoughts so little time.
So after all that, I should feel like I’m cool talkin’, fast walkin’, ever givin’ and cool fizzin’, yet instead I’m clutching my cup of tea as though its my last bastion of hope and I’m fairly sure that if my Bedinburgh had a phone, it would call me to ask me to come back. It would be a slightly odd chat to speak to my bed on the phone. I’m guessing it’d mostly be pillow talk. Arf! Boom! Sigh. Oh. Maybe I need more chilled days? It might be like when you charge a phone but not all the way and so it scowls at you with its lack of energy and just dies even quicker. Who knows? Well not me. I will see how the willpower maintains itself. I forsee some failure fairly soon. Only one week and two days to go Douieb, don’t die before the end….
In other news:
– My iPod has died. iTunes said it was corrupted. This makes me sad as I tried my best to bring it up right and teach it all the rights and wrongs. I never put any total dogshit tunes on there unless it was for a show, I only ever filled it with ace stuff. Yet, somewhere along the way, it went astray. I wonder if its downloading too many illegal tracks and somehow they’ve convinced it to sell drugs and shoot people, or whatever it is corrupt iPods do. I won’t survive for long without it. Already the sound of actual things as I’m walking along is making me go insane. I don’t know how people with naked ears do it. Yesterday I heard a woman scream at her kid and then some man boast about punching people in a toilet at Subway. I preferred these people when they were miming to The Leisure Society. The world is a much nicer place with a soundtrack. FACT.
– Being stupidly fickle, the fringe is now all ok thanks to this rather lovely review:
FEST REVIEW – TIERNAN DOUIEB – LITTLEST THINGS
Last night’s show was tough and had press in who I’m sure will spool vitriol onto the page like typed hate, but until then I’m feeling positive about it all again which is nice. That tiny bit of gratification should last until at least the weekend when I’ll crash again and hate everyone. FACT.
– Guest Who? At the Underbelly is superb superb fun. You should go. I was the guest yesterday and they improvised entirely based on stories I had told, which in turn, were based on words the audience had said. I had sort of thought of some beforehand but the words ‘mango’, ‘betrayal’ and ‘sharks’ meant I told three completely different tales that I’m not sure where in my brain they had been lurking. All the scenes were excellent but my favourites included an improv about the nuances of saying you are an axe murderer and a rather freaky scene about killing chickens. Go see.
– Yesterday at Comedy 4 Kids a small boy called Arley told me he had already checked the room for ghosts and there weren’t any. I can’t tell you how pleased I am with this. He then explained he had two guinea pigs called Night Fury and Deserts. These are by far the best names for any pets ever. Arley for King please.
