Tags: Irish

Hollywood Hayes

Hollywood Hayes – Regrets

  Regrets, I’ve had a few, so few I can mention them all. First, that time a girl was greeting me with a hug but I thought she was trying to kiss me so I closed my eyes and went for it/head-butted her. Second, the time I tried to bleach my hair. Finally, chugging a
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Hollywood Hayes

Hollywood Hayes – Pikeys

  My uncle Frank told me a story about how one day his trailer was stolen from his house in Tipperary. Frank phoned the police. Made a report. Few days later two guys showed up at his door asking him if he wants to buy a trailer – The very trailer that was stolen. Not
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Hollywood Hayes

Hollywood Hayes – Homesick

“Do you miss Ireland? Would you ever move back? Are you homesick? Come on, move on home!” is something Irish folk (my parents) ask me all the time. My answer is always the same: Nah. Except, there were three times I did wish I was back home. Like that time I ran out of money.
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Hollywood Hayes

Hollywood Hayes – Friendly or Gay?

Hard to tell in LA if most of the sound guys who I meet out happen to be gay or if gay guys are just sound to me. That’s the trouble here trying to make friends. You try to be open but never quite sure what the ulterior motive is. Take last Saturday. I’m DJing
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Hollywood Hayes

Hollywood Hayes – Old People

You see a lot of things in West Hollywood. Today, for example, I saw a hefty, blimp shaped man wearing nothing but a long brown wig and pink thong bikini while cycling his bicycle. Always nice when you’re strolling to the shop for milk. Hardly ever see old people here, though. Not like the sweet
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Comedy Store

The Insider’s Chancer Guide to Hollywood

  (Article of mine that was in the Examiner recently ->Read on!) For the sake of your holiday needs, I’m just going to assume you’re single/a young couple/just married and bored already thinking oh no I thought this would make my life more interesting but no/married with kids and wondering where it all went wrong
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Nick Hayes

Grandaddio!

For Emma – Vitamin String Quartet    So I’m driving along. Listening to Taylor Swift. On my way to yoga. And I’m crying. Weird day. In a daze when I got in my car. Turn on the radio. Anything. Just don’t want the silence. Drive on. My Dad phoned me a few minutes before. Told me my
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Christmas Dog

Christmas Clown

Blue Christmas – Elvis I’m like a dog. Pavlov’s one. Conditioned to beg or eat or do something every time he heard a bell. Except my bell is Christmas. And I’m conditioned to have a laugh. I blame Ireland. Don’t think I’ve ever had a bad Christmas back in Ireland. From growing up as a
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I Want To Be The Best

http://www.independent.ie/opinion/your-voice/first-person-mark-hayes-i-want-to-be-the-best-30457187.html When I was a young wee lad making my way in the real capital of Ireland, Cork, boy, I had little to no clue what I wanted to be when I grew up. Besides the best, obviously. The question was, the best at what? For a while I thought I was going to lead
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Mark Hayes Examiner

Summer Time Hayes

http://www.irishexaminer.com/lifestyle/features/mark-hayes-feeling-the-pressure-to-get-a-beach-ready-body-278040.html So I’m at a hotel pool party in West Hollywood. To my right: Hollywood hills. To my left: Downtown L.A. All around me: Models. Beauties. Brutes. Half naked bodies, half drunk girls, fully flexing guys. All perfectly sculpted. Breasts, pecs and high heels. Wonderful. Along with me, a pasty white, almost burnt Irish guy
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