Hop, Skip & A Dump

Stop start kind of day really. Or is it start stop? Humidity might have been a factor. Mugginess is a killer. I like to think thats the reason why I can get irritable and headaches pop up when ever it is about. More than likely it is all in my head though. Which is true either way really. Managed to line up another few potential DJ gigs to keep me ticking over for the next few weeks. Plus I have started working on plans for where to live, work, pursue acting/writing and other such wonderful stuff, in anticipation for my return to L-Hey, whenever that might be. Oh, and I fell down a stairs. Kind of. The last few steps of a stairs at least. And took a nice hop off the floor when I did.

At the gym earlier, Boris wasn’t being too full on as he usually has been, which was good. I think it is because a few of his buddies seemed to be there as well. Seeing as I only had under an hour before the gym closed, I was racing through a few leg exercises, far too quickly really. Not recommended when doing squats. Between the humidity, and flying through the gym, I was a beaten docket as I left. At the same time I was leaving one section of the gym, I spotted Boris sticking his head out of the other part, and making his move as I departed. With this in mind, I bounded down the stairs. Stupid call really. It has happened a few times, where I have forgotten how dodge my legs are after squats, and nearly tumbled. As I briskly made my way down the two flights of stairs tonight, the last few steps were literally a step too far.

Dodgy left knee buckled first, should really get that checked out. Flimsy right leg followed. Thankfully I managed to break my fall by nicely hopping my shoulder off the ground, and ended up in a heap at the end of the stairs. Just lying there. At the front door. Panned out. Like a weak, defeated flower. Feeling fairly wrecked, and wondering if I had done any damage, I decided to just lie there for a minute, and suss out any potential injuries. A minute feels way longer when lying down on the ground in public. I might have lay there for longer, until I heard others coming down the stairs. Not wanting to surprise or shock Boris by having me passed out on the floor, waiting for him to scoop me up and carry me to my car, I brushed myself down, realizing only my pride and shoulder had been bruised, and off I went.

I’ll cleverly skip the part about the what is going on tomorrow. Let’s just say that hopefully my round trip to Dublin will all be worthwhile. Which would make a welcome change! If you remember my plan I wrote about before, that will give you a clue. In fact, it might merit another wonderful Vlog tomorrow to mark the occasion, which would be a bit ironic. A weak link to skip but it will have to do!!!

While I was lining up DJ gigs earlier today in town, I happened to bump into a girl I half know. And by that, I mean I dont know the half that has her name. Anyways, while I was talking to her, or listening to her complain to be exact, I noticed myself drifting away, and instead just looking in complete wonder at different parts of her body. Not in a sexual way, oh dear Lord no. In a completely bewildered way. Seeing as I think it was the first time I have seen her in the cold light of day, I only today noticed how her hands, feet, face, neck and ears were all different colours. I admit that I might be a bit obsessed with fake tan. As in my dislike and disdain for it. Still though, when someone’s skin changes from orange, to kind of green, to patchy white, back to speckled orange, I can’t really be the one who is odd for noticing it. I have forgotten how unforgiving the cold light of day can be!

However, by far the worst part had to have been the smell. Maybe I was just unfortunate to be standing down wind from her. It is chronic though. I was at least a foot away from her today. Actually, thats almost on top of each other now I measure a foot out with my hands. Say 3 feet. And I could still get the smell of a weekend old fake tan. At this stage, I prefer the smell from the dump, than that of fake tan. I would say I prefer the smell of someone’s dot dot dot, but thats just weird either way you look at it. Not something you’d really prefer to anything. Only the smell from the bathroom in the old bus station in Cork, and puke, are worse now for me. Just in case you were wondering. I am sure you were dying to know how much I do not like the orange curry powder.

Wrap it up, the heading probably outshone the rest of the blogaruu! Seeing as I am tired, time for a chilled song…

Casimir Pulaski Day – Sufjan Stevens

Tags: Casimir Pulaski Day, Cork, DJ'ing, Dublin, Fake Tan, gym, Sufjan Stevens