Flea stared at me!

I was doing some uni work (Yes I was doing uni work! Shut up!) when I noticed someone on Facebook posting about blogging. That brought back some memories. Remember when I used to blog? phuh! All the time! Sometimes - twice in one day!

"Hey Martin how did you see someone's facebook update if you were doing uni work?" Because I've got 2 monitors. Now let me get back to my story dick head!


Wait, isn't Dick head 1 word? "Dickhead" That looks better, but the Google chrome spell checker's put a red, squiggly line under it... Hmm

Anyhoo, I was all like: "remember when I used to blog? I should get back into blogging."

But then came a question. What to blog about?

I paused for a second then I came to a conclusion. I could. Blog about...

THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!!

As you probably know (The chances are - if you're reading this - you're probably me.) I went to see the Red Hot Chili Peppers last Saturday. It was fucking immense. Because My good friend Scott Lang (Langsters paradise) got me a ticket from O2, I had to meet him there to get it. I also had another ticket that I'd bought so I took my girlfriend. As it turned out, the Langsta didn't get there before we reached the door to get into the actual gig. So we were there with 1 ticket between us. I know what you're thinking; "Shit! You'll be killed". Luckily though, it wasn't some mad killer with a knife at my back, It was a very nice man with a spare ticket. I was too shocked to thank him properly. I was thinking I could do that here, but no. He won't be one of the 2 or 3 people to read this.

The support band were alright. At first I thought their guitarist was on heroin or something. Though after a while I realised; he's just a hipster twat.

But nothing previously mentioned in this post - or even the entirety of this blog - bears any significance in comparison to the fact that... FLEA STARED AT ME!

Right at me!

I was all like rocking out with my fist in the air and he was like...


It was intense. I thought I might shit myself - I didn't. But afterwards, I was thinking. If I'd flattened my hand to turn my putting my fist in the air into a Nazi salute... That would've probably thrown him off. That would be pretty funny.

I think I might start blogging more often, I might make it a weekly thing or something.

Talent Show Reject on a Blurry Screen

So... I pub quizzed tonight. Pub quizzed hard. We even got half the answers right. most teams had more than twice as many people so it was kinda a moral victory.

But I'm not here to blog about some pub quiz - I've done that enough in the past.

What happened after the pub quiz is where it's at.

Leaving the pub quiz, everyone was pretty drunk. "What to do now?" we all slurred at each other in a somewhat aggressive manner. "Why I say, let's go to Liquid" one vomity-sicky voice said. "Good call". Good call indeed.

For those who don't know; Liquid is a nightclub in Dundee. There are probably other ones around the country, but the liquid in question is in Dundee.

So Martin? Why are are you boring us with shitty facts about some nightclub that isn't as good as Undedrground - even after underground put their prices up (the bastards).

Well Martin, (Martin? But I'm Martin. I need to stop posing questions to myself on my blog, it's getting really confusing - especially since I'm half-cut.)

Well Martin, we were going into liquid thinking 'oh, it's Monday, should be nice and cheap.'. £7 to get in! On a Monday! What the fuck!? I was happy to pay it. But still; what the fuck liquid? What the fuck?

We couldn't see what the fuss was until we got separated by a massive crowd of screaming maniacs. I could hear a PA system with a voice saying "Here he comes!".

Here who comes?

Here Wagner comes.

Apparently I'm the only person who doesn't give a fuck about this guy, yet I was within feet of him. I could've bottled him. But he had a guy. Yeah, a guy. Looked hard as fuck. Like Phill Mitchell and Grant Mitchell merged into one massive, bald ball of Eastenders hardness.

Also I throw like a girl.

Anyhoo, I was really close to this Wagner guy. Yet I couldn't give a fuck. I was closer to him than the X-factor judges were when they thought "Yeah, let's bring on another comedy act.". I was closer to him than I was to the Red Hot Chili Peppers when I saw them a few years ago - and I really like the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I was also closer than some genuine Wagner fans and was actually blocking their view of him. I would've moved for them but they insisted on shouting "Wagner" at the top of their voices and blowing out my eardrums. So fuck 'em. I hope they enjoyed watching their favourite talent show reject on a blurry screen.

Wait, he didn't win did he? If he did, that last line doesn't really work. Nor does the title.

Martin's Messed Up Dreams Vol 5 - Obama in the Chilis

He may be the President of the USA, but in my dream last night, Barack Obama replaced John Frusciante as the guitarist in the Red Hot Chili Peppers. He wasn't as good as John but he had some nice style and very quickly became a fan favorite.
The RHCP line-up with John Frusciante was cloned so you could still see them perform but they just did the same stuff over and over again so people got bored of them.