Met The Simpsons last night just off Hollywood Boulevard. Homer’s in a bad way, some asshole cut his arm off. Peak for him.
Hey, guess what amazing foolishnesses I managed on the way to LA? Not only did I leave my luggage on the Gatwick Express, I also managed to leave my passport in a rubbish bag that I promptly gave to an air steward to put in the bin early on in the flight, not realising my mistake until we’d landed about 7 hours later. I assumed they just dropped the rubbish out the plane over Denmark or something, but luckily I was wrong, just as I was wrong about the people of the Heathrow Express being the sort of assholes that wouldn’t put one’s bag on a returning train for you. They totally did, and I totally managed to get my bags on the plane with 24 seconds to spare, and I totally got through security in the fastest time I have ever got through security, and my passport totally wasn’t ejected over Denmark, and an air steward who was deeply enamoured with me totally pulled on some rubber gloves and waded through the impressively compacted and time-organised rubbish drawers until he found my passport at which point the whole plane erupted with joyous celebration.
Last night Wade and I wrote a hit record about sex and driving, hooked up with Xavier to plan our live set-up, and today we wrote a fucking glorious, ambitious and dictionary definition EPIC video treatment. Tonight Angel Haze is coming down Wade’s night at Teddy’s, so we will rehearse our dance moves for Wednesday’s big shoot day.