Television American style

I've been stuck in for a couple of days now since like Crowded House said 'everywhere you go you always take the weather with you' I seem to have bought to LA the whole rainful of the 3 months i'm here in one day judging by yesterday. Anyway I've so far watched a bio on Adam Lambert (who I had no idea who he was) and Taylor Swift (who I first heard about through Kanye West invading her award speech last year when I was here. I've heard Kayne West is being invited to the Royal Wedding this year. I hope he doesn't get up during the ceremony and shout 'ok ok everyone knows that Beyonce should have won the hand of the Prince'.
Anyway I've been very pleasantly surprised at the quality of the comedy here. And have so far enjoyed the Conan O'Brien show, Tosh.1 and the American Office. I also have seen lots of info shows including what I though said 'Improv Prostate Cancer' channel whilst flicking though. Only to flick back to see it said Improve Prostate Cancer - although why you would want to improve it I don't know. I also watched Tyra Banks show in which she attempted to talk about people who are born with both sex organs and that one in 2000 people are born with either a vagina and a penis or a penis and a vagina. She also said that one in 2000 people are ginger so there are as many both sex organ people as ginger people. I wonder what the odds are on being both ginger and having both sex organs.

Winding Up Bruce Lee

Today I found a great shop full of interesting items to do with pop culture.
There was a glass counter with loads of wind up tin toys including Rocket boy, a storm trooper and a darth vader. But there was also a wind up tin Bruce Lee! I walked over to the nice young lady behind the counter and asked her how much it was. So after she finished labeling things she reached into the glass counter and got the price from Mr Lees Kung Fu feet. $200 she said. Now immediately in the real world i should have said - that's way too much for me Good-day madam. Instead I then asked more questions about the toy to seem like i was a david dickinson type collector. Where was it made, When was it made, Who made it, How many of these are there. Confusing the assistant as she didn't know the answer to any of these she then went to fetch the manager who again thought I was interested in buyin it. He then got a ladder to fetch the box and I had a conversation with him about it. We couldn't find out when it was made. But I took down the manufacturer and said I was going to look it up on the internet - he then offered to do it himself there and then. I pointed out that I only live round the corner so it would be no trouble and that I would be back.
I left Bruce Lee to be placed back behind his glass cell. And hoping that one day his price would be reduced and that some idiot wouldn't get his hopes up to such an extent again. $200!!!!!

Restauranting

Well I'm certainly making the most of my time in LA by going out in the evening and sleeping in till past midday each day (today it was 3pm) I'm going to have to work out the formula for drinkxhoursxdancingxeating = hours of sleep. Although last night I got in at 5am after going to Dennys with a bunch of people I'd just met. After having stuff thrown at me (bits of paper) I quickly devised a game for them - 10 points for hitting my nose, 5 points for an eye and one point for face shot. I also added 50 point for hitting my Little Jeremy and coincidentally I got hit there right away. I then introduced a 100 point bonus if they came to pick it up where it had landed (they only scored 50 btw).
I've been to a lot of places to eat here with tons of things on the menu. I always have trouble deciding so I just have a burger. The other week after having a hot dog I was given the cheque. After receiving my change. I decided not to put the 'tip' back in the booklet as some of it was in change and I thought it would drop out when she picked it back up. So I had the rest of my tea whilst the the waitress came along and picked up the booklet thing. She opened it and the waitress suddenly turned red in the face and I could see my tea shaking.
'Do you not tip' she shouted at me. At this point I went all of a quiver. In my quiet timid voice I said yes and pointed to the tip i'd left on the table. At this point I should have taken it back in my pocket and said 'you've just null and voided that tip lady' and walked out.

The other tip mistake I made was when I gave a 50% tip on a meal as I thought i'd given the correct amount in cash only to discover when I got home that one of my twenty dollar notes was missing. No wonder he seemed so please as to my tip and I looked at him strangly thinking 'weirdo it was only 3 dollars'.
I also went to a cafe for dinner the other night. In that instance I had the dilema of where to sit. I was alone so did I want to sit on the two chair table by the window so everyone passing would see me with my meal for one and think 'poor little lonely man' No! I course I didn't want to take that table so instead I took the FOUR seated table. As soon as I received my tea and started I started to think - why did I sit here. If a party of 3 or 4 people come in they are going to want this table and I'm hoggin it. Also i'm making myself look more lonely like I'm expecting 3 friends to show up and they haven't. I thought about moving all my objects on my table over to the 2 seater table but thought this again would look weird to everyone else in the cafe. But alas in the end the other tables finished their meals and after that I was the ONLY person in the whole cafe - which also made me look lonley but also that i'd chosen a shit cafe to eat in.

The British tradition of Queing

Today I decided to go for a Que. I hate queing. I used to que jump by knowing people at clubs/bars and then working in music for a while I used to get on the GUEST LIST for gigs etc. Then when I moved away from music I had to start queing with common people again common people like me.
Anyway this morning I queued for Arcade fire tickets. After a number of tweets went out stating that they were to play a intimate gig in LA. They also posted that to stop people having to camp over night they would 'stagger the info' but then proceeded the night before to list three images which eluded to where tickets would be on sale. Ooooh now being from London (home of the best detective) and an ex researcher i thought I can crack the code, decypher the diagram, break the bastard.
However just by the power of google and what was quite obviously a postcode (zipcode) I a mere foreigner who didn't know any record shops in any area of LA (part from Ameoba) was able to find all three within about 2 goes. This was hardly the Da Vinci Code it was more the Duuuuuuur Vinci Code. The results came in at 9am the next morning confirming my suspicians.
So i turned up just after 9 to Echo Park. Saw a que and immediately joined it. It didn't look so bad. Stood there for a bit then the person 'in front' of me spoke to me. Ah I thought just friendly que banter. He pointed out to me that I'd joined the front of the que and that I was now first in line. Of course I pretended to know this (i didn't). Anyway he'd been there since 9 pm the night before. So much for not making people sleep over. I laughed and then walked along the line and joined it at the back (i believe this is the correct procedure). With the sun on my back and trying to get a signal to check whether I had any chance of getting a ticket I waited for the reassurance of other people joining the que behind me and thus not making me the last person.
After 1 hour the que suddenly moved only for me to be re-positioned in another que that was going the OTHER direction. I imagined that other people coming from the other direction had joined this que whilst we had made our way round and that in the end these people would cause me not to get a ticket.

So in the new que we waited. Tried to work out if the amount of people infront would take up the full 200 tickets. Made pleasant conversation about how delusional we were to even think that we'd be in with a chance. It's always reassuring to have other people who think along the same lines. Even if this line was too long and full of desperation. I saw a couple of people join their friends in the que ( is this allowed? Again I imagined that those people would be responsible for me not getting my tickets). Hang on though - the line was moving I could see the door area now. Like rowing for shore and finally seeing land. I actually thought we were going to make it. My British Queing feet weren't what they used to be.

I did a kind of standing in line work-out where you lift your left leg up, lift your right leg up, balance on the balls of your feet and down again, look at your phone, blow out your cheeks, and tut.
It seemed that the first 100 people had numbers and when the 100th went in and of course bought their two tickets. That was it. show was over, well show hadn't even started but it was over for us. After one last 'I'm not going until I hear it from an official' (like I was waiting for a whistle to be blown and a referee to come out and call full time). So that was it. I was about 50 people off in the end. But like somone said in the que earlier. This que is a bit like life. I then said well it's probably a reflection on my life in that I worked out how to get tickets but I was too lazy to get up and do something about it and half heartedly tried but kind of new that I wasn't going to get it.
Join me next week for another edition of queing with Jeremy. It's going to be sooooo exciting - see you at the back of the line.

Standing around

Well I've been on some of my first nights out during my stint in LA. And I've just realized the old problem of going out on your own. How to stand and where.
After arriving at a venue to see three bands. I head straight to the bar. It's early but I've been told to get there early to avoid the que. I avoided it but is seems so did everyone else. I have my drink. Now where to stand ? Left hand side or right hand side? Back or front? Or absolutely central to everything? I decide on right back I have no idea why perhaps there was a girl I liked the look of there? Perhaps there was a boy I didn't like the look of at the left back side - I can't remember. ( The next night I found an new option - standing leaning against a doorway). So I take a sip of my Corona, look around, scratch my face and erm take another sip and look at my bottle inquisitively as if to say 'hmmm how much have I got left'. Place if down by my side look behind me, check my phone for someone might be texting me saying 'i'll be there in 10 minutes' (I'm not expecting anyone for another 2 hours) and have another sip. Of course by this amount of time I have to check how much drink is in my glass again as I've forgotten.
Later I have added, pushing my fringe over, moving one leg across the other and back again and checking how much money is in my pocket as other things to do between sips. Also I've added folding my arms and one hand in my back pocket as ways of standing. And finally the first band come on I'm saved for half an hour and can now use the time inbetween bands to go and pee/get another drink.
However I get more anxious as the last band finishes as the club is on after and there is no where to hide there. I'm going to have to either sit on my own or stand at the edge of the dancefloor staring at the persons on the dancefloor like some sort of sinister Simon Cowell waiting to give judgement on their so-called dance moves. 'You know you've just done my favourite move...and now I hate it'. Also there are not enough people on the dancefloor to guard me from prying eyes of others viewing the dancefloor shenanigans what if I score a 7....out of 100 by their judging system. I'll have to leave the dancefloor in shame. Then I spot someone I know and  now talk instead of keep my mouth shut, move instead of being static, swig instead of sip and dance instead of being motionless. So if you see someone on their own at a club/bar/gig please don't be a stranger. Then again if somone starts talking to me I immediately think I'm going to get stabbed but that's for another blog.

All I can't eat

So on my first trip after touching down in my hotel I choose to pop over the road to my local 24 hour Ihop (I believe Apple have netered the restaurant business now.

First on the menu is the all you can eat pancakes. Can I believe my eyes? They will bring me back 3 pancakes at a time until I've had my fill? Are they mad? I take this as a challenge in that I will make them pay for giving away such foolish offers. I take the above photogragh - and as I leave I shout 'HA! I will return at daylight tomorrow and I will indeed have my fill - and you sir will have your fill of me! Goodday!' and the swish my cloak around myself and leave their door swinging behind me.

The next day is Friday. After waking up at various point in the night through jetlag and dreams about mice I finally get out of bed. I go buy a notebook and then prepare myself for war (by war I mean eating pancakes).
So first I have to decide what meal I want that also has on the side my first batch of pancakes (this batch of pancakes is included regardless of the offer). So I have the 4 sausage, 2 egg and hash browns. Mmmm an mighty tasty appetizer before I can take advantage of them. So I tuck into my meal imagining the waitresses face when I state 'I Demand more pancakes - it says right there in print - until I've had my fill or I will sue you and your company'. I devour my sausages, I demolish my eggs and any thing that runs out of them I mop up with my hash browns whilst every other mouthfull I wash it down with a piece of pancake until I have finished everything the naive waitress has put before me. I beckon her over and utter these words....'Blimey I'm stuffed can I have the bill please' An Epic Fail on my part.

So I leave London town with a flat to my new temporary tenants having to deal with the monster mice. I say monster – if you had seen me in the afternoon yesterday it was like a scene from Alien. I could hear them scratching trying to get in. Even though I’d block up my flat (literally – I had it mouse proofed the day before) but still they try to claw through the timber and get into my flat – WHY! It’s not like I have a cheese board – I don’t even like cheese or boards. There’s a song about mice isn’t there…I saw a mouse where? There on the stair. Where on the stair? Right there you idiot are you blind and it’s got clogs on how can you not see a mouse with clogs on? Why is it wearing clogs? Because it’s Dutch I don’t know! Just kill it!

So my journey begins with a late cab and an oyster card with enough credit on it for one journey form balham to heathrow. When I get to Balham station I decide to take the train instead as it will be quicker to get to Victoria. So I ‘tap in’ and then realize I’m going to have to ‘tap out’ at Victoria and then ‘tap in’ again to get on the underground – two journeys. I’m tapping more than Brucie and feel like tapping out as in a sharpshooter.

I try to look cool by carrying my suitcase with one arm up and down the stairs but this soon changes to guess…a two arm carry. I guess this is why God gave us two arms. Thanks God. Suddenly I get a panic attack on the tube – not like a medical one but a real one where I think I’ve left the receipt for the mouseproofing on my sofa. I now imagine having to phone the estate agents and tell them to get to my flat before my tenants. The estate agent races round in his Foxtons mini cooper. Runs in the front door and up the stairs and bursts throught the front door just as the tenants are about to go into the lounge. He then jumps on the sofa and sits on the receipt only to look up and say ‘sorry we have to check the bounciness of the sofa….erm bouncy bouncy’ as he jumps up and down and then pretends to pull his pants from his bumcrack and retrieves the said receipt. But Hooray! It’s in my suitcase.

So checking in I get my customs form but no Visa form (do I need one? )I still never know how to fill them out anyway. This haas always been the case. When I first went to a recruitment agency in London I have to fill in my details on a computer. Question one ‘What is your name’ Me – Jeremy Hammett. Question two ‘What is your surname’? Me – Hammett. Computer – You are Jeremy Hammet Hammett.After getting a sausage baguette and a tea. I head through security with ease. Apart form having to show off my teenage ninja turltle belt (or are they hero turtles?) ‘Turtle Power I say to the frowning security person’ Obviously I’m not a terrorist otherwise I’d have a Shredder belt on.

I then walk into the purgatory that is the tax-free shopping area. It reminds me of that film ‘Dawn of the Dead’ with all the zombies in the shopping mall except here the zombies are people.I attempt to do a number two in the toilets as I figure that if I try to do one in flight then we will go through some turbulance and I will come out looking like I’m about to go undercover to bust some illegal mud wrestling caper

After reading NBC Business magazine in the gate areaI board the plane and start to fantasize about my seat buddy. Will it be a page three stunner or a glamourous actress off to become a waitress in Hollyland? Oh yeah I’m in economy so it’s an elderly lady with a soduku book – Do you do soduku? No I do voodoo..ku. Ha she won’t bother me again. Just watched the Social Network I ‘liked’ it HA! Did you see what I did there?
I just tried to watch Boardwalk Empire but the tv system on the plane is on a loop so you have to time it right to watch it from the beginning. I just put it on to see how long was left and Steve Buscemi was shagging a woman. I had to quickly turn it over incase someone thought I’d wired in my laptop and was watching films from that.