Hardcore fish banging and partying

Hi,

It’s me, Dave Hill, again. You know- that one guy. Anyway, it’s week three of the Fringe festival and- not unlike the mighty salmon that swims upstream for some hardcore fish banging- I am slowly mutating into another creature altogether: one with large bags under its eyes, a musk of stale beer and various fried things filling the air wherever I go, and inexplicable new patches of back hair that were nowhere in sight just days ago.

In short, I am continuing to have a really lovely time here in Edinburgh. I have gotten some more lovely reviews, which is great. I imagine there are probably some not so lovely reviews out there too, but as my handlers have learned the hard way, if the negative reviews ever make their way before my eyes I beat the crap out of everyone in sight with my cell phone, storm off in my mud mask, and lock myself in the bathroom for six hours smoking menthol cigarettes and ordering Chinese food. (Mostly flat things that can be slipped under the door. Noodles work too though- you just have to push them through. Still delicious if sometimes full of extra hair and toenails).

Anyway, in addition to doing both of my shows, Big in Japan and The Dave Hill Explosion at the Pleasance Courtyard, which is just a couple blocks from my house (which in turn works out great for me in case I have to go home and cut myself or I maybe forget a prop or something back home). I have been seeing a bunch of other seriously great shows, including but not limited to: Charlyne Yi, Des Bishop, Ronna and Beverly, Comedy Bitch, Hans Teeuwen, and also a bunch of other ones besides those ones I just mentioned but I can’t remember them all now because I keep thinking it’s a really good idea to keep a bottle of scotch right next to my bed every night just in case.

Aside from doing my shows and seeing other people’s shows, I have mostly been stumbling around and muttering things to myself or hanging out with friends at one of the various nightspots here in town. One night, I got invited to a party at the giant 78-bedroom apartment of Lady Garden, a comedy sketch group that is actually several ladies and not just one lady as the name might at first lead you to believe just like it did to me. I showed up at the address of the party and then once I got inside the party, I started partying super hard, so hard in fact that no one else at the party could believe how hard I was partying.

“You sure do party hard, Dave!,” pretty much everyone at the party said to me.

“I know. That is because I love partying!,” I said back to all them as I continued partying super hard. I drank pretty much all the stuff that was there at the party, even if someone else was trying to drink it at the time. Then I whipped my shirt off and began to dance like no one was watching only pretty much everyone else at the party was watching because they couldn’t believe how hard I was partying or that I had inadvertedly whipped out my privates during a particularly complex dance move I have taken to calling the Westminster Helicopter. After that, the police came and threw me to the ground in hopes of somehow putting an end to all the hardcore partying I was doing without even really trying, but even that didn’t help because once I got down on the ground I just started partying some more. This is the nature of partying- once you start partying, you just don’t stop no matter what.

The day after the Lady Garden party, I walked home pantless and pretty much everyone in the whole city high-fived me as I passed by. They could tell I was seriously good at partying. And I was.

Okay, that about covers it for now. Check back here next week for more important dispatches about the Fringe and also life in general. In the meantime, I am going to make some toast, just one more thing that I am pretty f@#king sweet at.