When it's just not meant to be.
Watching, listening, reading, and a bit of Brit trivia.

The Tony Hawks Trifecta.

I have now read all three of Brit Tony Hawks's "travel bet" books: Round Ireland with a Fridge, Playing the Moldovans at Tennis, and One Hit Wonderland (in addition to his not so much bet-based but still very enjoyable A Piano in the Pyrenees).  And I can say, with some confidence:

I love Tony Hawks.

One Hit WonderlandOne Hit Wonderland, the only title I had yet to read (which took me a while to get to, as I had to order it from outside my library system through the magic of interlibrary loan) details Tony's bet that he can't write a hit song within two years.  (The genesis of the bet relies on his earlier success topping the charts, with a spoof song called "Stutter Rap," in 1988, which was evidently a chart-topper in Great Britain.)  So off he goes, to Nashville, Sudan (yes, Sudan), Holland, and Albania, to try and write and record a hit song.

I won't tell you whether he wins the bet.  But I will say that a ton of enjoyable weirdness ensues from his journeys (including his time in Sudan, which he spent at least partially in the company of Irvine Welsh, author of Trainspotting: "'Is there a bar anywhere in the town?' asked Irvine, his accent sounding all the more pronounced and incongruous in this environment, although to my ears the nature of the request did seem to lend itself to his Socttish brogue.*")

But, hands down, my favorite part of the book was the song Tony wrote to try and break into the Christian country music market in Nashville:

Oh I've got the Lord in my armpit, And I've got holy water on the knee, He's there between my toes and he gets right up my nose, I guess it's just his way of loving me.

Yes, I've got the Lord in my armpit, He's a headache that really doesn't hurt, I can feel his ripples in my pious pointy nipples, And if you're lucky you can see them through my shirt.

He's there in the clenching of my buttocks, And you can have him where you like if you don't sin, The Lord could be your nanny in every nook and cranny, So open up your bowels and let him in.

Hawks did not have a hit in Nashville, as you could probably guess.  I mean, really.  "Pious pointy nipples"?  I'm going to be laughing for the rest of the day.

*Speaking of Scottish brogue, did anyone catch James McAcoy on The Daily Show?  I've never seen any of his movies but I may start.  When I die I hope I go to a heaven that consists of nothing but listening to Scottish people talk.