My first thanksgiving...

I was at my friend's place for my first Thanksgiving dinner yesterday. She cooked a mighty feast, including 40 deviled eggs, of which I think I ate 30. The highlight has to be when her aunt arrived, put her teeth in, and then demanded 'are you going to roll two fat joints or what?'. Wasn't expecting that. Classic. All completely legal here seen as every man and his dog has a medical card. I was quite happy with my bottle of Rioja though, each to his own! I left full as an egg (full of eggs) with a loaf of bread and a load of leftover meat in my pockets.

I got a few funny looks sat in a meeting today eating the leftover ham from Thanksgiving out of a plastic bag and eating my 'bread' like a candy bar. The bread was real sweet stuff, like tea loaf. I've noticed that they sometimes call cake 'bread' -that way you don't feel like a fatty boo for eating a whole loaf...

Sweet bread, the best kind of bread!

My next thanksgiving feast will be on wednesday night with none other that Markus Schulz supplying the audio candy, at the aptly named Trancegiving. Praise the lord!!

H1N1

Damn flu. Been feeling rough as a porcupine's scrote this week. Pretty sure it's swine flu based on the symptoms, but feels just like normal flu. On the positive side, I found this picture on the US H1N1 Health Advisory website.

It appears hugging a teddy and smoking a fat one is the best way to cure H1N1. Shame I don't smoke, but I certainly am a teddy-hugger.

A pain in the arse...

In the previous post I mentioned something about falling out of a tree. Well, three weeks later I had a lump on the side of my arse and it wasn't going away. When I touched it I got a really sharp deep pain. Great, cancer, I thought. I'm going to die of arse cancer.

Anyway, a few days later, after coming to terms with my impending, untimely demise, a thought came to me: why don't I give it one last big squeeze? I did and as I winced, blood squirted out and I heard something go 'Ping!'. I looked around and found what can only be described as a thorn the size of a redwood trunk at the side of the sink. This piece of timbre must have made home inside my leg during the tree incident, and safely nestled in there for several weeks.

At least three foot long!

I guess the moral of the story is: don't automatically assume you have cancer when you find a lump, because it could just be a thorn. Or maybe: don't fall out of trees. Take your pick.

Presenting DJ Jim Beam...

I met up with some guys that DJ in the next town on. Well, hang on, i'll go back a bit...

A local DJ had commented on my mixes online and said we should meet up. We spoke and he lived in the town next to Fort Collins so I said I'd cycle down that afternoon. Before he could say 'cycle??!!' I'd hung up and set off. It turns out that I misjudged the distance and it's 16 miles each way - not quite the same as popping up to Headlingley from Burley Park.

It was also not that flat, and the road I was heading down was closed off with a two mile detour. The scenery was nice, but thankfully someone in a truck realised that I wasn't cycling for the sheer joy of it and offered me a lift after 8 miles.

Pretty for two miles maybe, not but 16.

So, I met up with these guys and we had a bit of a mix in their basement. They were DJing at a house party in Denver that evening so I went along with them. I played for a bit before realising that I'd nailed a good half-litre of my old friend Jimmy B and that it would probably hit me pretty soon. The rest is a bit of a blur, other than chatting to lots of people whilst touring the house and saying bye to three friendly police as we loaded the gear into Vanessa's car (Dylan had lost the keys to the car we came in) and disappeared off at 4am.

I awoke on Dylan's sofa as his dog attempted to make love to me. At this point I realised I was missing my jacket, my phone, my camera (hence the lack of my pictures in the recent posts, boo!), and in pain in several places. We had to go back to Denver to get Dylan's car, and luckily I found my phone and my jacket. On returning I was greeted by lots of happy people that I vaguely remembered. We carried on drinking at the house (I had to move on to beer because someone had finished the 1.5ltr bottle of Jimbo last night - hopefully not me) and everyone filled me in on the blanks, which included being on the roof and falling out of a tree. This explained the scratches all over me and the pain in my arse.

I really appreciated the comfort of my $400 mattress on Sunday night. I lay half-asleep laughing to myself about the bits I remembered whilst getting calls from Chelsea's irate mum asking me where she was (Chelsea had been at the party). I've no idea how or why she got my number, but I assured her that she was fine when I left, and that I really needed to sleep. For 14 sweet hours.

Sack your promotional teams...

Who the hell do DJs pay to do their promotional photography? I mean, at what point do they say: "I know! Ferry, it'd look really cool and sell loads of tickets if you pretended to flap like a bird!"?

Or "Everyone is looking far too airbrushed these days, Lets just go for a crappy red tint so you look like Satan's cousin, or you've been on the sesh for 84hrs".

But, possibly the worst I've seen is this one of Armin. Is he smelling a rose? Are we looking at a picture of him snapped while asleep? Or is he getting some trouser-love from someone who wants that DJ job just a little too much?

Sort it out!

Good times at Hodi's...

So, I was out the other night to the regular bar and befriended some more random people. In the process of cycling to the bar I'd almost been run over. A woman had just decided to do a U-turn as I passed her and nearly broadsided me. Luckily she stopped in time and I didn't poo my pants, so we continued on our merry way.

One of the guys in the bar assured me I'd be run over soon if I cycle a lot - he's been run over three times. Good to know. Although I gave his legs a tap and they definitely weren't made out of wood, so it cant have been that bad.

I also met the first person who knew that Ibiza existed. We were doing shots of Jager at the bar and she was telling about how and where she wanted to travel and dance - the White Isle being high up on her list. Needless to say we bored the rest of the group into playing pool while we discussed the benefits of life on a party island.

What more could you ask for? - except maybe some snow importing from the Alps during winter. The sweet pad above will set you back a cool 1.5 meeeeellion euros.

Now to get writing my ransom letter to Richard Branson...

Harroooo, I'm baaaack!...

I've been a busy little bee of late, hence the severe lack of posts. There've been too many goings-on to put on the blog, but I'll start with adding some music...

I thought I'd stick my mix on here for anyone that's not got hold of it yet. The first of the Stateside mixes, should be plenty more to come :)

Darzh Liebek - 100 Degrees West

You can play direct with this player, or click on the little arrow on the right to download the mix to put on your Pods.