Everything Doin'

I've barely had time to breathe today, let alone blog, dearest readers. So if this blog ends up half finished before trailing off, its because I've passed out due to a lack of oxygen in the brain. I've just returned from a morning of a fun script reading with Shane muthafrkkin Richie - who wants to touch me? What no one? Oh - a haircut, and er, picking up a prescription. Yeah so the last two aren't remotely exciting, but let me tell you bloggees, that I like to keep it real. Sure the script reading was there, which is all sorts of cool but I don't want you thinking I've gone all celeb on you. No, not at all, so instead I got my haircut in the usual place for usual people, and in an hour I'm driving to Wolverhampton. Yeah, all for you lot. Sigh. Keeping it real. So real in fact that I may not be able to pay my bills this week. For you. All for you. Don't you ever say I've sold out. Unless of course you go to buy me and there is none there, in which case, you are fully allowed to say I've sold out. But no other occasion. Because I haven't. I'm so down to earth I have soil in my socks. Or something. That and I stole a twix from the script reading.


I've decided after today that I'd like to do more script readings. What you do is sit down and then read aloud off of a bit of paper. Its pretty good that. I remember as a very small child, getting told off for not reading in my head. Well who's the fool now? Yeah, you, you teachers! If I had read in my head today, all sorts of shit would have hit various Shane Ritchie based fans. There would be a lot of unhappy shit covered housewives. So, I read lots of parts, including one called Little Man, which I felt like it might be hard to portray, but it all seemed ok. So, if you have a script maybe I could also read it? I reckon that from now on, maybe I might just work as a script reader. People would come up to me and say 'hey there you sir, I've got a script here but I can only read it in my head, perhaps you can help?' I would stride up, snatch the script from their hands and bellow out the words in lyrical stylee. Unless it was meant to be said quietly. Because I can act like that and things.


Not much else to say. Yesterday was one of those days, that while mostly fun, could also not have existed and no one would have noticed. Sure people would have gone to sleep on Sunday, woken up on Tuesday and been pretty goddamn confused, but aside from all the worldwide panic, worries that terrorists have gained time control powers and lots of unused sheets on daily calendars, no one would have cared. Between waking up late, smashing a glass while trying to say hello to someone and falling off a sofa while trying to pick up a pen, there was little to keep Monday's validity as a day. An afternoon of recording things for my podcast that I had forgotten to pre-write and therefore didn't really do, with James of the Hingley fame, followed by sitting at the back of Old Rope in a baseball cap loitering with exactly and precisely no intent whatsoever. Both elements of the day were much fun and I'm hugely glad I caught Glenn Wool's new stuff at Rope as it was pretty damn awesomehellagreat.


So I'm making up for yesterday's nothing by doing more than everything today. Yes, imagine everything. I've done that, then made a sandwich. So this is all the blog you get as everything is bigger than I thought and may well take me until about 10pm, after which I'm allowed to play xbox. FACT.