A Hippy, A Blood and A Leprechaun Walk Into A Bar…

I’ve been suffering from a hangover since a day of boozing on Saturday so have been unable to function, never mind type a coherent sentence. It was a highly bizarre and unfulfilled day which threatened to be good but never fully blossomed.

As with 99% of my “friends” here, I know them from meeting them once or twice or through someone else. It was a day and night filled with different scenarios with a few different friends here. Like any normal day, I went to meet a hippy chick about an interesting offer she proposed…I could have use of her BMW in return for doing handy jobs around her house. My roommates warned me in advance about what the handy jobs might be but being a trustful guy, I went along to see what was on offer. After listening to her stories of trips to India to meet her spiritual leader and how he visits her in LA through visions, I was convinced this was a sure fire legit deal. When I told her my stories of growing up on a leprechaun farm back home and how my own pet leprechaun, Timmy O’ Toole, also visited me through visions, she felt we had connected enough to go ahead with the deal. The handy jobs turned out to be change one light bulb and then help her drink two bottles of wine. It was win-win all round.

I had made prior arrangements with two other friends, in this case, one person I had never met before and another I could not remember meeting the week before. One was a girl who invited me to her birthday party after apparently meeting her in some club. The guy who was to go with me was a friend of a friend at home and used to work in the Classic. I had strong ties to both. When the hippy chick started to ask me if I dressed up as a leprechaun, and when the drink ran out, I decided it was best if I departed for a while, it was still 5 in the afternoon.

Anyways, the dude comes to my house about 6 – Hows it going, you know X, yeah, I know X too, he’s some wanker, yeah, prick, come on we go boozing. So we head out to the address the girl gave me for her party. Eventually find the area, pull in to some liquor store to get a bottle of booze for the party. Even though I’m after a fair bit of wine I notice a few dodgy looks being thrown our way but think nothing of it. Find the street where the party is on. The guy tells me there is no way in hell he is getting out of the car here or letting me out, we’re in the heart of Bloods territory, was I winding him up. I’m completely clueless, ring the chick to see if it was spoof or not. No one can understand my accent on the phone over here so its a pointless conversation of me shouting questions at her in an Irish accent, then trying an American one, ending up joyless and with no answer every time. It happens with every American person I talk to on the phone her, great laugh. Some car drives up slowly next to us, revs up and does a little hop on its wheels. Whatever it was, we were gone, no party, no chilling with the Bloods. Good start to the night.

So we drive back to my house, drink some of the vodka, head to a dive bar about a twenty minute walk from my house. Night is spiraling downhill fast. I’m sobering up and getting tired. Im getting texts from the hippy saying she’s at a party where they are meditating and listening to the sitar if I wanted to come, bring Timmy too! Didn’t sound too great so ploughed onto the bar. We get there, full of dudes, happy days. Scatterings of chicks, some big Italian guy keeps coming up to me asking me for speed, he’ll pay top dollar, wont believe me when I tell him Im not into drugs. Time to hit the vodka red bulls to save the night if possible and give me a needed kick.

Eventually a girl comes up to me and my buddy, sound looking to say the least, especially for LA. I tell her she looks great for 37. She gets highly offended, tells me she’s only 25. I ask politely how she cant take that as a compliment, I was saying she looked young for an older woman, surely that is a plus. Still not going down well with her and her friends. So I tell her other friend she looks great for a Mum, tells me she has no kids, I ask why wont she take the positive that if she was a Mum she look good after it. They are not getting the humor, we have to make a hasty exit.

So we go back to the house, finish the bottle of vodka, the guy is plastered, I tell him he can sleep in my room, Im staying up boozing with my roommates. It all gets a bit hazy then. I decide I should ring my sister and wish her a happy birthday, about 4 in the morning here but a good time back home to call. So I get a cab to the shop to buy a phone card. I then tell the cab man to just drive around while I make the call, a $20 phone card lasts for a long, long, long cab ride. Especially when you’re a tad drunk that you cant dial the international code never mind the rest of the digits. So after racking up $50 on the meter the cab man says he’s bringing me home, he’s had enough of me fumbling with the phone.

So back to the house, everyone is passed out, early morning stuff. I go upstairs, the dude is panned out on the side of the bed. Its then I see he has pissed himself. The job. At least it was all over him and some rug from downstairs but still. A great way to end an unfulfilled day. I’ve great friends over here really.

Tags: bloods, hippy, LA, leprechauns, sitar, vodka