highly abnormal shark-like fish

To compensate for my lack of New Year's Eve plans, I intend to spend my evening sewing miracles whilst watching Bill Murray movies . . . this means goodtimes with The Life Aquatic, Lost in Translation and Rushmore, or so the plan goes. Knowing me, I'll get through the Life Aquatic and be filled with an overwhelming desire to stitch 'Z's on everything . . . it will be like an cocaine lost evening only with yarn and less narcotics.

The following is my one and only New Year's resolution: learn to play Dungeons and Dragons like one mean muthafucker! Oh ho ho, I will be a Dungeon Master before the month is up!!

the return of phasoom the magnificent

Oh my brothers, last night was pretty much amazing. I was hit with the typical fever of boredom that follows a particularly lush festivus, there is no more chocolate, rum or mashed potatoes left . . . I am a shell of a person without such wonderous things.

To battle the upcoming depression I could feel lurking in my gullet, I meandered downstairs in search of adventure . . . there it was, could it be any more obvious?!?! Phasoom the Magnificent, the sewing machine of wonder and unicorns or whatevs!! It was love, my brothers, it just felt right. Pretty much what was to follow is now recorded in the history books of fucking amazingness. Not only did I make a purse but it didn't suck, and it had a liner which also didn't suck!!! But also, it looks fucking amazing!!! It shall be named the 'Rory' Purse because just like Rory's conception on the Gilmore Girls, it was a surprise that resulted in great and many things!! Namely, something to distract me every Tuesday night. Ha! I AM THE MASTER OF MUTHAFUCKING SEWING CHIC!

Oh ho ho!! And to add to the creative splendor, I figured out what to do on my looming 21st birthday besides the whole drinking drank drunk bit. Wait for it . . . THE INDIE ROCK DISCO!!! It's once a week at the Velvet Underground and it happens to be on my birthday. So if one can't be in Germany on their birthday at least you can do what the Germans do, and that my friends, is to muthafucking rock out! Oh my dancing shoes will be a grooving that night.

Happiness, my brothers, consists of a little thing called disco groove. That and a whole lot of drinking.

i heart alcoholism

Ha! It's a good thing I've been drunk since 1 in the afternoon considering that I have to work at 6 in the friggin morning tomorrow . . . spending the majority of the day drinking yourself drunk is a sign of a muthafucking good one!!!

you, me and the bottle makes three

Ha! A post! It's a Christmas miracle.

Ohh my precious brothers, it has been a week of drunken festivus debotchery. It's been a long standing family tradition to spend the entire holiday in a completely awesome stupor. HOLYPISS!!! I live up to the Scottish heritage with all the rum consumed and whatnot. I could fucking drink Yeltsin under the bloody table!

It was a week of fun and goodtimes and the haul was plentiful. Amongst some of the amazingly great things was a whole ton of organic teas, a Planet Organic tote bag and Balkan Ghosts, a book I have been pining after since Christ was a child . . . all of these things lead to a very happy Chelsey. Now all I need is a whole shwack of Raymi goods and all will be right with my material world. Well, that and my new camera which is close to fruition. Ohhhh, mon freres, je suis tres excited to have a camera again. It will be pretty and beautiful and I will rule the world with my camera of awesomeness!!! I shall name it Rupert and I will love it because it is my Rupert. le sigh.

To complete the festivus celebration, I am enjoying some Bowie and some very tight tights. Ohhhh Labyrinth, you please me so. Honestly, that movie must have been supported by the friggin glitter industry . . . it's me, Labyrinth and a whole lot of rum. oh yes.

Peace out homeslices.

kick them straight in the face

Ha! I am a girl of drunk tonight . . . oh yes, the drunk is on, and yes, goodtimes. Also, COMMAS!! You are jealous and that's okay. Mostly, I am excited because in my weakened state I managed to remember my blog login junk or whatevs. I am the muthafucking champion!!

I am currently writing about schmelty as it has been threatened that a post without the scmelt in her home is equal to a swift kick to the face. Oh what a state I am in . . . The evil Schmeltrex likes to prepare her drink with drunken miscalculations, it's like "would you like some coke with your muthafucking rum?" DANG!!

Off to the great adventures that await us in Riverbend. TO DA MOON!!!

blog it like it's hot

ohhh my, one exam left and my brain is reeling. Fortunetely, the easiest exam is saved for last so I only require a small portion of my head to function properly. le sigh. I am a tired girl. Actual posting to come later . . . I'll regale you, my lovelys, with how I blugeoned an A & B sound guy to death for withholding my camera beyond the 60 days. Or not. Whatevs.

i'll give you a winter of humanity

Ohh my lovely brothers, I just got back from a walk of greatness around abounds town. It was pretty much amazing as it was uber-windy . . . with all the billowlyness I felt like a muthafucking superhero!!! Amazing!!

Aside from my superhero revelation, I was also hit with an amazing epiphany thanks to Smeltrex. Santa is cleary a communist. Could it be anymore obvious!!! He hands out presents to worker's children, the elves are clearly unionized and the red suit, it all adds up to one jolly fucking pinko! I loves it.

the pole of grievances

So I've been running around all day looking white-trash/rock n' roll fantastic, it's all ruined now because I have to go to friggin work. Dang! Just to make things even more lame, I have to wear this monster of a company shirt to celebrate the holidays . . . I am going to smash my face against the wall until I lose conscienceness.

Seriously, I want to speak to the small Euroasian child that is responsible for stitching this shirt. It was clearly designed to fit a small demographic of individuals whose arms have been removed and gorilla limbs have been surgically grafted on the empty sockets of the torso . . . hallo graphic!!

The only thing I can take solace in is that if I push the sleeves up to my elbows it's like a bad 80's flashback. This of course means only one thing, I'm putting on the muthafucking Madonna "Hung Up" and annoying the crap out of The Mombles.

Peace out.

ce doit être amour

ohh today was a day of glory! It was the first day with no school, I lived out today in sheer ignorance of the looming doom of my exams . . . it was lovely to not care for a day. The day was filled with niceities like doing an obscene amount of laundry and watching Batman Begins for the eleventy-bazillionith time. le sigh. The John Lennon tribute I was watching is now rolling the credits. To complete my lovely day, I'm off to make myself a greek salad of greatness and then go for a walk. My Broken Social Scene cd shall accompany me, walking hand in hand as lovers do.

I feel the warm welcoming glow of laziness take me over. I'm content.

j'aime le crafts

So the Grand Bazaar was pretty much amazing! I loves me craft shows.

It was fun and goodtimes abounds. I walked into the studio, it smelled of mulled cider, leather and cigarette smoke . . . it was the musk of hipsters. There was a small jazz band set up in the corner, rocking out that far out sound. I always regret hearing a good local band and then proceeding to be such a dink that I forget to ask their name. This was one of those times and I am friggin idiot! Even better than the sound was the visual art greatness that overwhelmed the space. Purses, buttons and photography, oh my!! I was in crafty heaven and now I'm off to enjoy all my new things of wonder and joy.

i am the fucking kildeer

Ohhhh today will be a day of glory . . . it's my first day off in like forevah!! To ensure that I fully utilize this awesomeness, I am filling my day with my most favoritest things: Kenny vs. Spenny, some hardy rock out time has been booked and best of all The Grand Bazaar is today. Basically, I am an exicted girl enjoying the sheer awesomeness of slackassery.

This week I was on the cusp of zombification, I don't think I have ever been so bloody wore out. Needless to say, many a good times came out of this . . . mostly me sobbing at the most inapproperiate moments. I choked on a mint, my coffee tasted bad and we were out of pita shells, all of which were followed a brief pitiful bout of amazingness! Honestly, me and sleep deprivation are a match made in heaven.

HOLYPISS!!! Kenny and Spenny are making out and I have a Bazaar to attend too!! Peace out muthafuckers!

here lies the remains of my academic glee

bleh. My brain is one paper away from a serious implosion bit . . . it's been way too active up there as of late, and it's not the fun type of crazy ADD/zombie thoughts either but the sodding wretched academic type. Ohhh I swear that after I hand in this paper tomorrow I am going to go drinking, oh ho ho I will drink myself into a fucking coma or whatevs.

Don't fret my friends, it's not like I'll be drinking alone, my good friend Henrique, the small swarmy French man that urges me to drink at frequent intervals, will be there. Naturally, no one else will see him, but trust me, he's there and he's insulting every last one of you . . . it's not his fault, he's French. Ha! I heart my imaginary French man!

Fuckkkkkkkkkkk.

pick a color and it's yours

Well, looks like my aspirations of Big City fun/L&G concert is going to be a bust. Ohh and it saddens me so. Unfortunetely, I have 13 books to muddle through and many more journal articles to peruse in order to actually write this bloody research paper. Curse you research!! I'm off to bury my nose in a book and sob. WOOT!

guard your brains like fuck

Okayy new plan: I'm no longer going to listen to Do Make Say Think when it's dark outside and I'm all be my lonesome. Don't get me wrong, I love their CD, but the first minute of the first track on Country Hymns Winter Hymns Secret Hymns sounds like zombies. Ohhh so creepy.

I am convinced that when the merciful zombie apocalpse comes, that song will be the soundtrack to the massacre. Naturally, I was busy convincing myself of this delicious fact and got so wigged out that the obsessive locking of the doors and peeking out the window had to occur. If the zombies are coming, I'm going to make it a friggin challenge to get my precious brains.

I really wish that I had a device to record all the crazy thoughts that entire my mind in a short span of time. It's pretty much like fucking brain hyperspeed all the time . . . I clearly practice quantity over quality. But how fucking intense would that be?! HOLYPISS!!

stephen harper is voldemort

Oh my, it's the final paper push before exams. Ha! Sleep deprivation is the muthafucking shit. Tonight I have to write a paper on capitalism and how it steals the very soul of the worker . . . me and Marx are like best friends, always and forevah! Then it's on to fun and goodtimes with Afghanistan and cultural history and what not. Le sigh, I loves me education.

Mostly, I am concerned that all this academic junk will impede my going to the Ladies and Gentlemen show on Saturday. I really want to see the tambo-rockin awesomeness that is L&G. That and also Pickpocket is playing at the Metro this weekend, of which, if I miss it my insides will slowly turn to sadness and death. Quite frankly, sadness and death is just simply unacceptable right now. The weekend mocks me with all it's potential!!

Fuck you weekend of greatness!!

chelsey vs awesome

My brothers, I have a new love . . . thy name is Kenny vs Spenny. Every second that I am not watching that fanfuckingtastic show I feel empty and hollow inside. There's no color or happiness in the world without my naive Spenny . . . poor rat bastard is always being thwarted by that devilish Kenny. If I ever see Kenny I'm totally going to take the show way too serious and kick the muthafucker straight in the junk or something less extreme. Perhaps a dirty look or whatevs. Trust me, it'll be goddamn scorching.

Oh my, less than two weeks and me and my darling camera shall be reunited. It's been a long and difficult seperation and I miss it so. Tell your camera you love it everyday and never go to bed angry . . . you'll both be better for it.

ADD and me

This post is a little delayed as I have been a busy little nutter . . .

Oh my brothers, Thursday was a Christmas day miracle!! It was a little something like I to call Broken Social Scene and oh ho ho it was fun and goodtimes abounds. le sigh. I completely miss them and the amazing good things they brought with their precious little selves . . . namely, a little indie awesomeness to dreary Edmonton.

It was the best show I have ever seen and a very close second in the Top Five Concerts list (Matt Good will always and forever reserve the prestigious first spot), mas maintainent, the seperation between second and first is like a milliwhatevs. Perhaps, what made it the bestest of the best was that I am the band's most favoritest person in the world . . . when your crazy autistic fan is up front rocking out and grinning like a fool it's best to give them the attention they so clearly need. My rock out face consists of me grinning a grin that could consume the muthafucking world! Je suis le plus boiteux.

TO DA MOON!!

my one true love I call thee internet

Oh my brothers, this post is a welcome relief from the disaster that is currently taking hold on my history paper and that bloody word count. I had merry thought I had finished my paper only to check word count and find I am a thousand fucking words short!!! How could I have been so naive? How could I of underestimated my word count so?!?!! It's the friggin' lame ass philosophy papers I have been writing, they have tainted me however with their freakishly small world count. Now excuse me, I'm off to smash my head against the keyboard for the next 10 minutes to increase my word count. DANG!

je suis lame

Bonjour mon petit freres, ohhh I have so much to get done in so little time it's bloody ridicious. Whatevs. Mostly I am conflicted as the Fait Accomplit opening bash is coming up and I am to bring some of my photos for display. And here in lies the question of which photographs and how does one display such a dizzy array of lame . . . me thinks I will just make everything black and white and play up the distortion to bring out the cool.

Speaking of the Fait Accomplit opening bit, here's a bit of propaganda pour vous . . . Everyone should join me at the fait accomplit thingy on Friday at Dewey's, the weird artsy room in Powerplant that you only venture in when you're drunk and looking for the exit, between 7-9. It will be fun and goodtimes abounds and I will be the idiot getting my drunk on and pretending to be artistic and junk. I'm going to even attempt to pedal off some of my photos, so you should bring money and buy things from me, or at the very least buy me a friggin drink. J'aime rum et coke.

Also, you should bring $15 with you to buy a new edition of Fait Accomplit, of which I'm published in, and also a back edition, of which I am not published in.

Ha! I heart propaganda!

get thee to a nunnery

Oh goodtimes abounds, "Sister Act" is on the telly, now normally I would pretend to be put off by the overt cheesiness but this one is special. Come on, Whoopi Goldberg and some muthafucking rocking nuns! Holypiss! But mostly I love this movie because I had the soundtrack back in the day, me and the retarded cousins used to put on the CD and create elaborate nun dance routines. Naturally, we would put the couch's armrest covers on our heads because the greatest habits it would make. A breakdancing nun is way better than that flying nun bullshit . . . it was bitchin and you are all jealous.

thank you my veteran friends

Oh my brothers, I was going to fill this post with my typically retarded ramblings but I have ditched the posty goodness to bring you an important message on Remembrance Day. And a way we go:

Hug a veteran.

Just let go and give into the sweet stale smell of the elderly. You don't have to know them, just find the liscence plate, you know the one with the poppy on it, and wait. When they stumble their awkward way up, that's when you pounce. Hug them for all they are worth because sadly they are a dying breed. Also, give them an extra one for me because they give me something to study at school . . . embrace them you fools!

reading is a sexy bitch

"In polyarchic systems the crucial bulwark against military intervention has been constitutional structures that define military authority and their realms of operations" . . . oh ho ho I know you are SO jealous of my reading fun tonight!

Tomorrow I have a date with a little something I like to call Political Paranoia: The Psychopolitics of Hatred. Ohh baby!

loves it.

and then some . . .

a lovely shade of mauve says:
gahhh I'm watching the mermaid baby's leg surgery

Queen of the Mole People says:
EWWWWWW

Queen of the Mole People says:
I do not like looking at surgeriesss

a lovely shade of mauve says:
but i love looking at mermaidsss

Queen of the Mole People says:
YOUR MOM IS A MERMAID

a lovely shade of mauve says:
SHUT UP!!! HOW DID YOU KNOW?!?!

Queen of the Mole People says:
I KNOW EVERYTHING!

a lovely shade of mauve says:
. . . excuse me I have to add more water to the bathtub for the mother

Queen of the Mole People says:
Don't want her gills to dry out!

a lovely shade of mauve says:
it's more so the scales I want good shape . .. Ima skin her and sell it on the fur market

a lovely shade of mauve says:
WHAT IS WITH ME AND MISSING WORDS!!?!?

a lovely shade of mauve says:
I'M A JACKASS

Queen of the Mole People says:
IT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE 1/2 MERMAID

a lovely shade of mauve says:
we merfolk are smarter than you fucking landfolk!

a lovely shade of mauve says:
FUCK YOU AND YOUR LEGS

Queen of the Mole People says:
LOOK AT ME AND HOW I CAN WALK!

Queen of the Mole People says:
GEE, WALKING ON TWO LEGS IS SO FUN!

a lovely shade of mauve says:
yea well I know the depths of the sea!! DO YOU!?! I THINK NOT

it's a party at the winter palace and everyone's invited!

Je suis tres excited and also awesomely bilingual. Clearly.

Today is the day of research glory, of which, I will become the best of friends with Richard Overy and many other excellent war historians to explore the depths of Stalin's psyche. Oh I know you have got to be jealous of my education!!

Right now I'm watching Oprah and the little mermaid baby. Holy crap I friggin love mermaids!!

A whole new something less cheesy

Oh my brothers, I am an exicted girl . . . it is the first snowfall of the year. It's fantastic and crisp and the one day out of the year where I am not completely disenfranisched with the little bits. I love the first snowfall of the year, it turns everything a wonderful shade of monotone, and under the streetlights it almost looks pink or mauve or whatevs. Ohh I am going to get all decked out in my winter clothing garb, rock out to Bowie and take in the newly pink world.

gonads and strife

For those of you who do not understand why I love Matthew Good and his awesome talent, why I stand in line for hours before the show or even why I will literally get in a fight in an alley protecting my right to be an obsessive freak . . . read this. You'll get it.

the happiest little elf 

king of awesomeness

Oh my brothers, I wish I had my camera so I could record how retardedly chic I fucking look right now. Currently, I am wearing my rocking awesome Christmas slippers, they are fuzzy and sing the most awesomest carols at the push of the button. Oh they are muthafucking mean ass slippers. Dang!

oh moses smell the roses

Bonjour mon freres! Oh my, I have finally recovered from my weekend of rock to regale all the bloody details to you lovely people. My weekend was filled Matthew Good at the Starlite Room and goodtimes abounds. Three days of brilliant glory!! Ah yes, here's the breakdown:

The line was fun and goodtimes, I was there obscenely early as always. It's a thing, a schtick if you will; the goal being to transform Edmonton into the neurotic line-up capital of the world! Honestly people, get out and line up, cold brick and hard cement is the new cool. Alas, as it stands I am the lone line-up freak, people thought that I was not only a pusher of the illegal drug bits but also homeless. Neat! But there are rewards to such a neurosi, I got to hang out with Christian and Pat which was pretty much amazing. le sigh. Every day after a few hours with the filth and the wafting smell of Chicago Deep Dish food poisoning, I was joined by my comrades. It's awesome to be joined by a group of boys that are just as giddy by the sight of Matt Good as you are.

Let me tell you, I may sound slightly casual about my line obsession but it is not something to be tampered with. On the first night, I almost got in a fight with these people that tried to cut in front of me. I'm a relatively passive person but that crossed a muthafucking line!! Let that be a warning to anyone, you fuck with the line you had best be ready to throw down . . . ohh yes, so much street cred it hurts. Dang!

Ahh yes and now onto the best of the best: the concerts. It was a fanfuckingtastic tour to put it lightly. Matthew Good once again found a brilliant opening band, The Ladies and Gentlemen. Imagine a band of five guys beating themselves with tamborines and rocking the rhythmic clapping . . . oh it was fricking awesome! And then, Matthew and company came on stage . . . they were not to disappoint. Oh my brothers, the second night was the greatest Matt Good show I have ever seen and there have been many a shows. It's pretty much a guarantee that anytime a show starts up with The Rat Who Would Be King it's going to be the most awesomest. Not only did they start with my most favoritest song but then Matthew finished with an accoustic encore of Apparitions, Prime Time Deliverance, Tripoli and Generation X-wing. Oh it was goodtimes abounds. I heart Matt Good and the beauty he invokes.

i heart vienna

Hallo my brothers, I have just triumphantly returned from the Metric show. Let me tell you, it was not good. Emily Haines and her lot are boring-like . . . I stood throughout the show like a moorse git because of the boringness of it all. Listen to the sodding CDs and there's a concert for you. I must give Emily cred though, her dancing/twitching on stage is quite fantastic, it's quite sad but give it a week until I crack, put on one of their CDs and practice twitching and singing goodtimes in front of a full length mirror. It's lame, I know, but give into the goodtimes.

The entire evening was not an entire loss fortunetely. The night was saved by my delicious little crack babies, The Most Serene Republic. They were fanfuckingtastic. Honestly! The fan girl in me was alive and kicking tonight as my six new best friends rocked out like all good little hipsters should. I'm pretty much in love with them all now. Dang!

Ah the sweet silence is ringing, the delicious aftermath of a concerteer. . .

puff piece

in my heart, this is what the eraserhead baby should look like all grown up.

heyy look, it's german expressionism. neat!

pass me the lederhosen bitch

To compensate for what I am sure was less than satisfactory midterm in history today, I will devote my evening to Bill Murray and the beauty of. Nothing makes me happier than Bill Murray's lackadaisical acting . . . happiness abounds. Oh goodtimes, I call you Lost in Translation, The Life Aquatic and if time permits The Royal Tenenbaums. Sometimes all I want to be is a small Bavarian child with gifts of crayon ponyfishes for my heros. That, my brothers, would be fucking awesome!!

I love you Trotsky, please accept this crayon ponyfish as a symbol of my love. sigh.

lament of naptime suffering

The bloody world is out to destroy my precious nap time. It's no sleep for Chelsey and my mental wellbeing is lying in the balance. I curse whomever invented the telephone and it's persistant ringing. sigh. The bear has been poked and I want the world to rot for it.

fuck you, you're drunk

Oh my brothers, I was drunk as fuck last night. I heart menadering through the twisted, wicked halls of alcoholism. Truly though, the saddest part was that I was wasted on four bloody beers! "Four Beers" they all cry . . . yes pathetic indeed. But last night was goodtimes squared, it was a celebration of Tony's birthday and we went to a dance club that pretty much plays Top 40 rap music CONSTANTLY! Needless to say, I fit right in. When Golddigger played, I rapped it out like one mean muthafuckah . . . yes yes, I am the origin of cool. Oh I do enjoy being all egomanic-like.

Sadly, no pictures were taken to commemorate the greatness of the eve because with a heavy heart I must say that my camera is broken. Sigh. It's only going to take forever and a day for it to be fixed and then it can return in all it's glory! It's sad how deprived it makes me feel . . . I miss taking photos of sheer retardation.

Also, I think it's a sorry day that the two most popular search engine quests to access my site is "lions humping" and "Steven Cojocara". What the piss?!?

threats of a birthday rebellion

Happy Birthday the Grand Supreme Smeltrex!! You fabulous little muthafucker!!

henrique and the hunt for red deer

oi vey. I just got back from a gianormous fantastical ukrainain dinner. I'm not ukrainain, that probably explains the massive stomach ache I am experiencing right now . . . man those people can pack it in like one mean mutha! The wine I can relate to given that I'm Scotish and all . . . me and alcohol will always understand each other always and forever. Oh of course, the tummy a-rumblings are entirely worth it, as it was celebrating the birth of the grand supreme council of the smeltrex. Or faux birthday as it were.

The weekend, food aside, was also filled with wonder and goodtimes. Naturally, I had drank myself drunk last night followed by a hungover me going to the Art vs Crafts show at Queen Elizabeth Hall . . . it was fanfriggintastic. I was a girl on a mission, randomly mendering the booths until I found my beautiful purse of eternal greatness. The purse is lovely and good in all the ways a purse should be. It's by Bittersweet Genevieve, and she has singlehandly put all my purse making ambitions to shame. I heart going to shows that this though, it gets my creative juices going. Dammit! I want a booth next year filled with my wonderous garble . . . a girl can dream. Sigh, for now I can hug my 'red deer' purse till I fall to sleep and dream of that far out sound.

travelling incognito

Oh my brothers, I am now the proud owner of the new Broken Social Scene CD . . . goodtimes and a hardy rockout shall ensue!

Please amuse yourself at pictures from the Feist concert . . . oh beautiful slackassery

my heart beats for cranberry sauce

sigh. My amazing week of uber-busyness is finally over and I can return to my sadly negected wicked ways. Oh my brothers, my week was so incredible. The EIFF, Feist and drunken family rambles was just a few of the goodtimes abounds. I'm sleepy and lazy so how about I just post me and B's conversion and be done with it. But oh ho ho, witness the laziness and my sad love for mashed potatoes:

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

WHAT IS UP?

le sigh says:

GHASHASDKVHL!!!

le sigh says:

how's it going?

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

Homeworkful!

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

You?

le sigh says:

Slackassery

le sigh says:

trying to recover from mashe potato overdose

le sigh says:

I dropped the 'd' off of mashed to make it fancy

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

Our thanksgiving was Saturday, so I am good

le sigh says:

it was yesterday but I ate A LOT of motherfucking potatoes!! OH YES!

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

BUT THEY ARE TASTY AND DEMAND EATING!

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

It wasn't your fault!

le sigh says:

I know!! They go down so smooth that I cannot help but completely overeat them

le sigh says:

that and I was a drunken mess by dinner yesterday so food was like my bestest friend EVAH!

potatoes are smooth like fuck says:

there now my name matches my stomach's true love

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

YES!

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

my name is unchanging like the wind.

potatoes are smooth like fuck says:

you're name is stagnant. . . I can smell the musk of nameness from here

potatoes are smooth like fuck says:

i laugh in the name of grammar

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

MAYBE I WILL CHANGE IT TO SOMETHING HORRIBLE

now, professor snape was a VERY BAD MAN. says:

THEN YOU WILL BE SORRY

potatoes are smooth like fuck says:

i clearly won't be able to sleep at night then

potatoes are smooth like fuck says:

but no worries mashed potatoes will comfort me into a deliciously full/self-loathing slumber

I heart CHELSEY says:

THERE

I heart CHELSEY says:

HOW ABOUT THOSE APPLES?

potatoes are smooth like fuck says:

OH THEM BE SOME SOUR APPLES!!!

I heart CHELSEY says:

NOW THE WHOLE WORLD WILL KNOW OF OUR LOVE

an espresso fuelled ramble

Oh my brothers, today was a day of greatness. It involved my most favoritest things: Whyte Ave, cappucinos and lots of film. It was my kick off day of the Edmonton Film Festival and was dazzled by the likes of Eve and the Firehorse and C.R.A.Z.Y., both of which were only to please my little heart. Ha! Be jealous of my amazing Canadian indie film day.

I must admit that I am now completely in love with C.R.A.Z.Y, it was what film should always strive to be: poignant, innovative and wonderfully narrative. Oh sigh, I loved it so. It was filled with wonderful character details that greatly remind me of Jean-Pierre Jeunet's penchance for revealing the mundane details of his characters. The love to read the most idle things and the necessity to iron toast, small details and quirks . . . I loves it.

Between the films was jaunty goodness, I wandered Whyte Ave like none other . . . Whyte Ave has become my home, I know the streets in and out and they embrace me like we were old friends. The graffiti I have come to know very well, I seek it out and with bright eyes of a child I take it all in. Indeed, I have become an obsessive nerd in the worst way.

Viva la France!

could it be anymore obvious!

My camera has broken on me, the little rat bastard!! Therefore I have resorted to this, pathetic indeed.

crinkly is the new pink

Oh man, today is the greatest fall day evah! It's those cheesy hallmark fall days where it's cool enough to put on your favorite long sleeve shirt and fashion scarf and your outfit is not impeded by a jacket. It's bloody brilliant. Plus, everything is crinkly, the ground is covered with noisy bits that whisper the mysteries of the universe everytime you crash through them. The air even smells crinkly, how else can you describe fall? As far as I'm concerned no word other than 'crinkly' aptly fits everything about fall and greatness of. Ha! I intend to run about like a banshee tonight making that delicious crinkly bits noise where ever I please!

Oh ho ho, I do love those exclaimation marks! Exclaim, I say!!

zombies are gross

I have a new most favoritest thing to do that will make everyone jealous of how awesome cool I am. This even beats the "Metropolis Run of Glory" which trust me my brothers is pretty freaking cool. Basically, it's me running around the house doing my best zombie child voice and singing
"I swim with the fishes cause the fish are alright. Oh my my just to get you to bite". Needless to say, it's pretty damn cool.

It's okay to be jealous.

the nerd-times are killing me

I have been a bad blogger as of late and it's not for a lack of wanting to post, it's the dauntingness of the white screen and the inevitable typing that must occur that puts me off. Chalkful of ridicious thoughts and yet no means to communicate it to my fingers . . . my clumsy fingers are my archnemisi. Oxen fingers of death, if you will.

So tonight will be a night of film goodness. I have rented the two weirdest new releases I could find. One being a post-soviet movie called "Since Otar Left", the second being the Korean film "A Tale of Two Sisters". Me thinks the second will be my favoritest, namely because it's a weird fairytale horror film in the traditional Korean pansori narrative style. WOOT!! That's not to say that Soviet film doesn't have it's merits because lets face it, I loves the USSR. *sigh* crazy pinko, I know.

Speaking of amazingly awesome film, the Edmonton International Film Festival is almost upon us. I have narrowed it down to six films I will be attending and strongly urge everyone with a love of good film to get themselves a EIFF guide and check out the amazingness abounds! Oh my brothers these are the nerd times I dream of.

reactionaries are tricky muthafuckers

I just finished writing the most ridicious essay titled "Normative Relativists are Reactionaries in Disguise". An essay can't be too horrible with a title like that, right? RIGHT?!!

for the love of porcelian

Two Campbell women should never be allowed to hatch plots together. Me and the Mombles have decided that due to our exponentially growing weirdness, in order to keep anybody around for long, we will have to wage psychological warfare. The plan is quite simple. Basically, we plan on convincing our significant others that they are insane and therefore our seemingly strange behaviour is only in their imagination. Oh ho ho, it'll be greatness. Small changes at first, like changing the color of their toothbrush or replacing all the non-garlic pickles in the fridge with ripe garlic ones.

The next step is my favorite: experimentations in perspective. Slowly we will change small white porcelian mugs for another that is only slightly larger. Once a week the cup will be exchanged for a new, identical mug (only slightly larger). My hope is that they will think that the coffee is shrinking, that my friends, is the first sign of the experiment working. Naturally, the expanding of a simple white mug will tire over time, one can renew the thrill of torment by randomly interchanging the biggest and greatest porcelian mug with the smaller ones. Of course, it is of the utmost importance to always return to the big mug, especially when the tortured significant other becomes wary of your ways. Small steps, my friend, small steps are essential to this plan.

This whole experiment is intended to completely shatter the confidence in the individual. Everything must be watched carefully or it could change before their very eyes. Coffee mugs are tricky muthafuckers. Their sanity will be so fragile that they will assume that you are the only one who could love such a demented freak such as themselves.

Can't you feel the facial tick forming? Delish.

sometimes just lazy

Bonjour mon petite freres. Oh my, this week has been filled with slackassery abounds. I have been absorbed with my readings (hence the lack of posts), all wonders of 20th century warfare has been commanding all my attention with a right fever. It really has been fantastical being back at my school, I miss the learning when I'm not there . . . ohhh yes I am the biggest in nerditry.

talk nerdy to me

Oh my brothers, my first days back to school have been lovely . . . my precious hollowed halls of University of Alberta how I love thee. For the last two days I have been doing all I can to resist the temptation to hug to dirty brick walls of Tory. Pathetic indeed! But oh how great my classes are shaping up to be.

My history classes are pretty much fantastic, both of my profs are socially awkward and naive as they have only spent four years at the university combined. My Russian history prof blushes furiously whenever anyone acknowledges his existence and then proceeds to ramble on about Poland and the greatness of. It's brilliant! My warfare history prof swears like a sailor . . . when a class starts with an obscenely loud profanity it's practically a given that it'll be a wonderous class. As well, he's also promised a visit from Romeo Dallaire of whom's brain I want to pick. All my nerdy dreams are coming true!!

Finally, to my nerdy delight all my drinking buddies from Carmichael's class are in my Middle East politics class!! This means many trips to the Powerplants and the inevitable drunken goodtimes!!

. . . Basically, this post means absolutely nothing to anybody but me. Perhaps, my brothers, you can revel in my academic goodtimes. Happiness abounds.

lycra is social masochism

I have a confession to make my brothers . . . I love chubby people who wear tight lycra tank tops. It's just the most socially awkward fabric anyone could wear, it assures patheticness in the coolest of ways possible. Oh ho ho, and you know who I speak of, my lycra bound friend, I want to be the best of friends with you and your uncomfortably tight shirt. We shall go old together and you can wear your stretchy shirt everyday. Sadly, it'll last longer than the two of us; still shiny and stretchy as ever when we become frail and old because it is the styrofoam of fabrics.

The lycra will never die like my love for you.

pip pip old beans

A storm's a brewin' outside, this of course can mean only one thing: I am put automatically into old lady survival mode. I am curdled up in the biggest, softest blanket I can find with ice cream and cheesy movies to keep me company. I'm watching the Notebook which is something I normally wouldn't admit but you are my beautiful strangers and therefore can be privy to the lamest of me. Oh my brothers, this is the lamest of the lame.

cauliflower with me s'il vous plait

Oh my brothers, today was passed with the lamest of ease. The majority of my day was spent running around the house in a wife-beater and my underwear singing 'Golddigger' at the top of my lungs . . . when Monsieur Kanye demands you to 'go ahead girl go ahead get down', goddammit, you muthafucking get down. It is quite possible that every person in a 10 block radius is completely sick of that song because of me. It's a feat I am rather proud of.

Aside from the sheer jackassery, I spent the rest of the day devouring the history of Islamic and Christaindom wars . . . oh delicious nerditry. I'm sure sometime in the not so distant future, I'll have to leave my house, perhaps, when the Kanye West Well of Happiness drys up.

Pip Pip!

beyond radtacular

HOLYPISS!! Oh my fucking god, if you don't watch this, I will be forced to hate everything about you because it's necessary to my heart that everybody has seen this video . . . the man in the scarf is my latest and greatest boyfriend.

Props to Raymi for always finding the greatest sites on the internet . . . also it's likely that I hate myself for the sickly use of the word 'props'. Whatevs.

meat numchucks: the greatest weapon of all

Oh ho ho my brothers, this week has been filled with far too much work and slackassery for posty goodness. Oh my, the rum flowed freely this week . . . it has been my ascertaination to fill every last free second of summer with drunken goodtimes, and if that fails at least some bloody goodtimes.

Earlier in the week, under the careful watch of the Council of The Smeltrex and Neville Helmet Hotbottom, I was beyond drunkedy-drunk. Oh my, it was fun and goodtimes abounds . . . that was until we hit the pool and played drunken turtle crotchballs. I downed half the pool in my pathetic, flailing attempts to stay afloat. Normally, swallowing pool water is a rather unfortunete moment in every swimmer's life but is paid little heed. This would apply if it was in any other pool, but this very pool has a designated 'free-range pube zone', where there is always inevitably some cluster of pubic hair floating carefree. With every gulp of pool water, a little part of me died. It was radtacular!

tales of extreme bochi

Oi vey, I am like an old lady today. After many rounds of rum-induced 'Extreme Bochi Ball' I have managed to hurt my back. Muthafucking bochi ball of death!

Let me tell you my brothers, the pain is totally worth it as I slaughtered all of the gents . . . well, that and the garden. I have this inately special talent to completely destroy everything I'm not supposed to hit, the garden was one of those unfortunete things. Followed by a very clear warning not to hit the garden, I then proceeded to throw the ball directly into the sodding bit. The causalities were great and plently, and include 3 beet plants, a head of lettace, and an airplane-shaped windsock. I'm an asshole and the beets resent me for it.

little bunny foo foo can bust a move like none other

Ohhh my, last night was fun and goodtimes abounds! Me and some of the ladies hit up Whyte Ave in a drunken fever last night.

It was high times, my brothers, high times . . . mostly because the nastiest drink known to mankind was on uber-cheap at the Urban Lounge: it was Jagermeister night. This of course, only meant two things: (1) despite my hatred of the taste of Jager (unless carefully concealed in a Jagerbomb), I was naturally compelled to drink only Jagermeister the entire night . . . my stomach loathes me for this. (2) To promote this 'night o' Jager,' the bar was handing out cheesy Jager themed prizes to those retarded enough to dance to the unfortunate bagpipe rock group of the night. One of those things were orange foam antlers, this naturally lead to me and Teresa to determining that our dancing for the rest of the night would be themed as 'Animals of the Forest'. Many a dance move was busted in order to satisfy the Gods of Drunken-Theme-Nights . . . my favorite of which was the 'Little Bunny Foo Foo', it was fucking intense.

Perhaps my greatest joy in going to any bar in Edmonton is the amazing phenomenon that grips follow Edmontonians . . . suddenly all the nerdy white boys and the no-neck men think they can dance. Let me tell you, my brothers, this serves only to bring joy to my heart and soul. The best of all this came towards the end of our stint at the Urban Lounge, the Jager was flowing freely and there were antlers as far as the eye could see . . . naturally the scene was set for a dance-off between the alpha-nerds of the Jagerhorn adorned pack. Well, it wasn't so much of a dance-off but more so them running at each other attempting to ram and rut the orange antlersoff each others heads . . . it was disturbing and wonderful at the same time. Dang!

i, geek

Oh ho ho laziness abounds!! I have not posted in a bit because I am a sloth-like git . . . half sloth, half girl, it's friggin awesome.

Oh my brothers, I have worked myself into quite a frenzy about school, I am beyond excited to return to my precious academics. I miss how Tory makes you feel completely trapped in academia, especially when the metal shuttters mechanically slide down and trap you in oppression. I greatly miss the horrid smells of fat and oil in HUB and how they slather your veins in sticky cholesterol. Most of all, I miss wandering about a sobbing waif because I have been up for 3 straight days writing papers . . . sigh, those are the moments you treasure.

new deeps of procrastination

Today I managed to not completely suck at life!! I actually registered for my classes like 3 hours before confirmation fee is due . . . this is a sodding record. Normally I like to wait until I break a cold sweat everytime academics is mentioned before I even deal with that whole mess. Oh ho ho, my brothers, I am victorious once again over the austistic system that U of A likes to call Beartracks. One day I swear I will dance on its grave . . . one glorious day. DANG!

rocking the casbah

Having just returned from dropping off The Mombles, it is time, my brothers, for one of my most favoritest things: sitting in my basement drinking litres of spicy tea and listening to my most beloved albums at obscene volumes. There will be a mix between the very old and the very youthful; an eclectic mix of awesomeness! I'm off to rock out to that far out sound.

a faux goodtime

So last night's debotchery was fun and goodtimes! Unfortunetely, the hangover is one mean muthafucker! I am like a blanket-yeti . . . me and my hordes of blankets move from random place to random place only to nap or have some form of nourishment. But luck is on my side, I learned many a good things last night so this hangover isn't for nothing. For example, never bear the gift of Chungking Express as entertainment, especially when the host has no means of procurring a VHS player. As well, boys will resort to lies and slander to win the simplest of movie trivia games. One particularly malicious boy resorted to the lowest of the low in order to win a friendly game, he made the mutherfucking film up! I shank people for less!! And most importantly, and the reason for the yeti-ness, is that wine is one mean muthafucker.

getting my drunk on

Ohh my brothers, I am excited! Tomorrow will be full of fun and goodtimes as me and my fellow cohorts overindulge in sangria, food and Zhang Yimou!! I shall keep an air of mystery around all the goodtimes planned until it transpires, as it is well-known that the greatest and lamest prize of all is the surprize! Oh ho ho smashing wit indeed!

For those unfortunete enough to not be having a mid-week sangria drunk on, I highly recommend watching Feist on Bravo. Sit back, my friends, and enjoy that far out sound.

under the thimble

There is something about really great films that fills me with the desire to create. Maybe it's that I aspire to be a director or perhaps it's that seeing someone else's art makes me want to create my own . . . whatever it is, I loves it! I just finished watching 'In the Realm of the Unknown', it was fantasic and it has left me feeling full of inspiration. I want to sew, I want to draw and I want to paint!! Bring Phasoom the Magnificent!! I wish to feel his cold yeilding pedal against my foot as I embark on a creative disaster.

you got to know your chicken

I woke up and had that familar smell of campfire and over-indulgence . . . the smell of patheticness is one that I am only too familar with. I curse who ever invented dry cider coolers!

bonjour mon petite freres

Hallo my brothers. I am one very drunk little girl . . . one might say I am 'hooked on the juice'. The Smeltrex and Lava came over and joined me in a few coolers. By a few I mean enough to get me COMPLETELY TANKED! I curse the room for all the spinning and the general dizziness that has ensued. Not to my worry my friend, I have many a good things to keep me occupied. I'm off to drunk goodtimes!! WOOT!

oh be joyful

Last night was bloody brilliant my brothers! Matthew Good played Telus Stage at Klondike Days last night and being the crazy little fan girl that I am, I was in attendance. The greatest bit of it all was that The Mombles agreed to accompany me, she finally got to witness the patented Matthew Good head waggle of herself . . . it's pretty much amazing!

Before the concert, me and The Mombles walked the exhibition. By mother's demand, every greasy food was to be sampled, savoured and enjoyed . . . it was less strolling the grounds and more so eating our way through virtual abby of deep-fried delights. Oh ho ho my brothers, it started with an elephant ear and only went downhill from there. Soon the telltale sign of too much food fun was beginning to rear it's ugly head - I had a killer stomach-ache.

To avoid me vomitting at the fair and my mother's inate capacity to find every sort of food and make me eat it, we decided to take in a show (which was thankfully food-free with the exception of the stall popcorn). What we sat down to was, quite possibly, the most retarded thing I had ever seen. It was like the Marvel Hair College of Cirque de Soliel and only a bazillion times more cheesy . . . and only to worsen matters was that there was a mime between acts. A very crappy mime indeed. Throughout the entire show me and The Mombles searched the rows of seats around us for an escape . . . there was none. To prevent the onset of a food coma we spent our time mocking the show in such crude ways that the lady in front of us looked like she wanted to light our hair on fire. Whatevs, the show must go on and we were getting restless. So onward bounds to more food consumption!

Having run out of things to eat and my stomach reaching maximum capacity, it was time for my pyschosis to have it's time to shine! It was nearing 6:30 when we finally walked towards the Telus stage. I have this thing about waiting in lines for concerts . . . if I don't get to wait, I feel insane and twitchy, it's a simple must-do in my concert routine. Typically, I like a good 9 hour wait (granted no one else is ever there and there everyone thinks I'm insane but it's cathartic) and the mere 2 hour wait ahead of me had put in me quite the state. I was dizzy with excitment and completely frantic. The wait was painful . . . I couldn't move because I was waiting for my Matt Good buddies to show. Sean, Chad and Aaron are always at the Edmonton shows and we formed a bond over our mutual obsession. My favorite part about the boys is that they have admitted that I reign supreme as the numbro 1 pyscho Matt Good fan and they only fight amongst themselves for position 2 & 3.

At 8:30 my legs were twitching and all I wanted to do was stand at the covetted front of stage area were a wobby picket fence was set up to help contain the crowd (great fucking idea might I add, it was at an diagonial for most of the show). Unfortunetely, standing wasn't allowed until 9 o'clock. At 8:50 I'd had enough and nonchalantly swaggered my way up to the fence . . . this caused a riot as people began to rush the stage, amongst those were my mom, Sean and Aaron. They secured themselves besides me and we braced ourselves against any attempts to steal our spots. Sean looked over at me and grinned, "Wow! You control the alley at shows and now you cause a riot!! How do you control the crowd like that?!" It's sheer talent my friend.

The show began on time, starting with Sean's favorite song, so he was beyond thrilled and I was giddy just seeing Matthew Good & co perform. The greatest was when The Mombles stopped her rocking out and crammed kleenex into her ears and then preceeded to rock out like it ain't no thang! The show was amazing, the crowd wasn't too rowdy (despite all the beer I knew was sloushing around behind us), and it had stopped raining . . . the concert Gods were in a great mood that night.

All of this lead up to the greatest moment, the band was still and a great hum came out of the speakers. I knew this song, and looking at Sean and Aaron's grins, they did too. At the same time in crazy fangirl mode, we all screamed "Advertising on Police Cars" and started to grin like fools. Oh my brothers it was so good, so very good. Everytime you here an Audio of Being song you cherish it, because they were so rarely played in the past. Police Cars was amazing, the crowd slowed their crazy jumping and gave into a gentle sway . . . it was fanfuckingtastic! The rest of the night was a blur as nothing could beat hearing such a great song live, it was beautiful. Holypiss!

The concert ended on a familar note, Apparitions. Which was accoustical and brilliant, a great way to end the evening. After begging for a set list (which I got!), me and my cohorts happily stumbled off into the night. There we were met by a very long and winding line . . . Matt Good was signing autographs for everyone in line. Mom looked pleadingly at me as I dragged her into the line, she was a very tired mother at this point. After many threats and curses, she finally conceded to hanging out with me and the boys for autographs. Matt couldn't of been more gracious, he was so polite to my mom it was hilarious! She walked up all brazon and handed him a piece of paper to sign. "Matt you ROCKED tonight!" and it was followed by a polite thank you. Oh ho ho the Mombles had warned me she was a slutty groupie near rockstars, they brought out the worst in her, but she carried herself well. I got to say my typical hello and awkward handshake and had to move on, as I would not be capable to maintain my conposure long.

After the meeting, we all prepared to part ways vowing to hang out at the next show. Being nerds we all did the 'go team' hand-thingy . . . it was pathetically fun! Basically after all of this, I'm trying express the fact that it was the night of awesomeness. Mr Matthew Good always manages to please!

GOODTIMES ABOUNDS!! More tommorow, sleep now! 

spin the meat-wheel and win!

Hallo my brothers. Oh I require to do something great . . . I have a general feeling of listlessness tonight.

Prehaps it's because tomorrow I'll be front and center at the Matthew Good show. It hasn't fully hit me that it's tomorrow, when it does, I'll be a little obsessive force to be reckoned with.

But even more I think I am just wanting to cause some trouble . . . start a Bakunin-like revolution, only without the pimps and criminals. Perhaps it will be labeled the diet-Bakunin revolution of which people just feel really rowdy and do something retarded like stop recycling for a day or steal ice cream from a small child. I think that would be friggin awesome. I have already started the rebellion by not cutting my hair in like bazillion weeks . . . I look like one uber-lame bohemian muthafucker. VIVE LA REVOLUTION!

doggie farts, gladdens my heart

Oi vey, it's going to be a stressful week my brothers. Work is putting me in such a temper that the only way to calm myself is to pick up heavy and breakable things and just smash the motherfucking shit out of it . . . it makes my insides smile when things smash. So basically for the next week posting will practically be nil, due to all the work-related suckiness. The vast exception to this rule will be on Thursday, in which, I intend to fully rant about how amazing Matt Good is. Ranting in annoyingly long and tedious detail. It'll be brilliant my brothers!

down by the bay

I love the word 'asshat'. Try it, it rolls off your tongue and lingers gentley in the air. How, one might ask, such a graceful word has such pertenance in my vocabulary? Well, my brothers, the answer lies between the theighs of a sweaty male stripper and an unfortunete bachlorette. Awesome grossness abounds!! Needless to say, I now have an affinity for the peelers because if nothing else it's a riot of nast.

The word 'swagina' also fills me heart with the grossest of glee!!

The next greatest thing to watch, other than greasy half-naked men, is the classy people that fill the King's Knight Pub. It was so sleazy, I could do nothing but sit back and enjoy that far-out sound. By far, the greatest was this extremely lanky and awkward man who danced like he was holding luggage at all times . . . I want to marry him. Honestly man!! Swing your sodding arms, elbows are meant for the bending. Oh ho ho, it was lameness abounds last night!!

This topiary frame is the origin of a whole lot of friggin' lame.

'Hey look the lions are up . . . and humping.'
You should have seen the muthafuckers run after I said that. Sodding pervert tourists.

Quite possibly the creepiest manhole cover evah!
'I'll swallow your soul!'

jiggy with the potter

Hallo! I went many a places yesterday . . . great places with bears and bats and everything that I love. Also many a good places with tweed and polkadots . . . it was goodtimes abounds. Unfortunetely, if I don't read Harry Potter like right now something inside of me will die, so I am off to rock with the Potter.

Nerdy details about my jaunty couple of days to follow tomorrow after some quality book time.

Goodnight, sleep tight, strangers.

amazing adventures with perch boy

Everytime the preview for 'The Dukes of Hazzard' comes on, I begin to bash my head against the wall several times . . . being concust is the only way I can even remotely stand it.

Last night I had a dream I was trapped in a car with Perch Boy. The car was in the middle of a park and there was a quite obviously an axe-welding maniac right outside of the car. If I left the car it meant certain death, if I stayed in the car it meant hanging out with Perch Boy and his slimy ways. He would waggle his eyebrows and I would frantically weigh my odds against the axe and the general badness of the muthafucker outside the car door. When avoiding the advances of my fishlike car cohort, I could hear the quiet hum of an eager axe blade. I took my chances with the Perch and woke up in a cold sweat of grossiness.

the ultimate in lame chic

God fucking dammit!! Sodding 'Big Brother' is on again. Naturally this means that I will watch it and have to hide my love of it from everyone. It's so friggin lame and yet everytime I am obsessed with it!! My most favoritest part of it all it is that everyone is such a whiny backstabbing uberskank . . . it gives me warm feelings of happiness.

Also sometimes I feel the compulsion to mention that I never want to have children, but if John Cusack asked, I would totally say yes. Think of the nerdy greatness our children would have! I would make them wear the same unicorn sweater everyday. Since I'm too lazy to knit two sweaters, I'll force our children to share it . . . the wool sweater will smell like an unhappy childhood rightfully should. The entire goal would be to create the most magnificent social outcasts ever. And as they age into bitter and resentful adults, the smell of sweaty, unwashed woollen sweaters will cause them to collapse into sobbing heaps of misery. Oh my brothers, that'd be friggin amazing!

ma petite deformo

I am sitting here watching 'Coffee and Cigarettes'. I can feel my lungs slowly turn to rot and my rampant desire for espresso begin to take hold. Holypiss, I wish there was a 24-hour espresso joint and then all my wildest dreams would come true. This movie is beyond boring. Meg White is an everyday sort of ugly, that's why I love her so. My little deformo.

Tonight will be a night for mischief . . . oh ho ho my brothers, the trouble I am wishing to cause.

goodtimes abounds

Hallo my brothers! I'm drunkedly drunk drunk . . . fairly certain that this is breaking some obscenely lame blogging rule about drunkeness and posty goodness but WHATEVS I say! Me and the schmeltrex have been drinking for 6 consecutive hours (schmel refuses to spell for me despite her being an comp lit major and all. Fucker).

Currently all I can say is this: I heart rum, schmel is the sodding Hoover Dam and crotch balls is the greatest game evah . . . perhaps this is why there is a rule against the drunken posts. It's going to be a sullen morning of editting tomorrow. Dang!

God speed mon freres!

My house is where heat goes to die. It's freakin 30 degrees outside and yet my house is like a sodding icebox. I've been screaming "Fuck you cold! Fuck you house!" and yet still no warmth. Apparently, yelling at the air in your house will do nothing to effect the temperature . . . honestly, I am disappointed. It's so cold I want to die. Fucking cold.

the miracle of rummy-rum

Hallo my brothers, I have returned to my internet whoring ways. I have betrayed you, my sweet internet . . . je regrette.

My entire week was spent in drunken awesomeness. The amount of rum I consumed practically turned me into a pirate . . . amazing! During my crazy little binges I have learned the importance of table feng shui. HOLYPISS!! It's sodding essential that the soy sauce, salt and pepper shakers do not rape every visual sensibility. Everytime my gaze was directed at the table, I would vomit just a bit into my mouth . . . not the most pleasing experience. Oh ho ho, you know which pub I'm speaking of, you hideous muthafucker. Hours, or perhaps minutes, were spent attempting to degross the table.

Sadly, there were a few low times in which I wasn't pissed out of my mind. The majority of which I spent obsessing over my quest for a new camera. It is the essential bit to the beginning of my fantastical art project. Vive la Urban Landscapes Project!! I also made the world's ugliest tote bag, it is so friggin' amazing! I shall name it 'The Champion Tote of Hideously Amazing Awesomeness'. It's important to my heart that there is an obscene amount of emphasis on the word 'champion' because it is that good.

. . . I'm chalk full of ADD.

dear customers

I have decided to remove this post . . . namely, because it sucked ass.

I regret to inform you my brothers, but I require a small hiatus from having to think in a sensical way. Writing and thinking (and most especially working the two together) are one mean team of muthafucking pain in my frontal lobe right now. I'm the queen of lame with my Lindsay sodding Lohan exhaustion.

I'll be back in a few days or a week . . . whatevs. Godspeed mon freres.

arrr matey

I just made myself the biggest muthafucker of a salad. I feel like I have scurvy . . . not that I know what scurvy feels like, but of all the retarded illnesses to get I think scurvy would be my most favoritest.

I had a really stupid friend who had scurvy once. Actually, he had it three times. The guy was a bloody moron, my favorite part of it all was that he was surprised everytime it happened. Although, it's pretty cool to be 'that dude with scurvy', no one else has that nickname . . . he was friggin infamous around town. So my brothers, it's salad time followed by a delicious blend of pine needle tea to stop the discoloration of my limbs. Neat!

the luckiest one of all

They found a puppy with six legs and two penises! Wow! SIX LEGS!

ragu and i are forming a stratagem for world domination

Since I posted last night I have been completely consumed with wanting to run out outside and scream like a banshee as I proceed to vandalize the property of my fellow neighbours . . . because screaming like a banshee won't draw any attention to the fact that I'm hold a spray can, it's simple logic my brothers. I just so excited to actually feel artistic again! I blame photography which has become my full-time hobby, I can't leave the house without my camera as it makes me feel uncomfortable in all sorts of awkward/fun ways.

Since I have become a totaly slave to my camera, I have noticed the details of the places and faces around me with a sudden intensity. It is impossible for me to go for a walk without finding a bazillion things to photograph. It's exciting to stumble around outside and find the art in everything . . . the angles, the colors, or just general awesomeness. Oh ho ho my brothers, I am so thrilled right now. I am off to rule the day with my camera!!

capricorn on the cusp of lame

a late night tale of greatness

Oh wow, I almost forgot how awesome late-night walks are . . . it's bloody amazing! They always make me feel alive and also just completely creepy, which I love!! This particular walk was definately on the 'Top Ten Walks of All Time' list of which I have just randomly compiled. Not only was it a perfect night for a walk, it was cool but not chilly, but also I had selected the most amazing music to walk by, The Flaming Lips - Late Night Tales. Neat!

I have the best ideas when I am on my midnight jaunts. This one was particularly productive . . . of course, my great ideas only mean trouble but oh my brothers I am exicted for these ones.

Awesomeness numbro 1: I have been developing a strange obsession with graffiti as of late. Since I have fled the sciences in bloody terror, I have become more consumed with the arts . . . I'll take any art-like thing I can get my greedily little orbs on. I happen to love graffiti, I think it's fantastic and amazing in every way! While walking I have decided that I want to indulge in the neato art of vandalism. I will embrace the call of spray paint and stencils (because I am a wimp with an unsteady hand). My only plan for my new art will be the requirement of it being awesomely lame, like a pink unicorn with the words 'origin of awesomeness' scrawled beside it. It'll be one mean mutha of a stencil.

Awesomeness numbro 2: This one is a secret for now . . . just know that the name I am playing with is 'The Urban Landscapes Project' (assuming there isn't already a project of one such name) and will include prostitutes and many other great things. More to follow on this one my brothers.

Godspeed homeslices!

adventures with hithero

Ohh today is going to be a day of greatness. I shall spend the entire day in a near vegetative state, only to leave when I hear the call of espresso, and then return to resume my veggy-like ways. I like eggplant . . . I intend to sit on the sofa and just concentrate on becoming one such vegetable. Purple is a smashing color to bring out the green of my eyes.

I have developed the most pathetic habit of awesomeness as of late. I am so eager to indulge in the internet that when my alarm goes off to ring in the morning, I greedily grope at my laptop as I wipe the sleep out of my eyes. It's sad really, it's the first thing on my mind. I read through all my favorite blog haunts and then preceed to read the news and worldy happenings. It's has gotten to the point that I am almost excited to be awake because surely in the few hours I am alseep someone has posted something amazing. The sky is literally falling in the Prairies and we are doomed to be consumed by the North Saskatchewan River, and I am pathetically consumed by the internet and the greatness of. Neat!

squee for daddy

Hallo my brothers. I seriously have a big lack of nothing to say so I'll point in the direction of Tony and Raymi because they are blogging gods.

Enjoy my friends. Enjoy.

"ticketmaster is gay. assraping iraqi kids is gay. covering it up is impeachable."
-Tony Pierce

 

henrique and i

Ahh yes, the greatest cure-all for all your sorrows is alcohol mon freres. I just returned from the bar with a happy buzz. Not only have I embraced alcoholism but I am nuturing and developing my addiction. I want it to be something great . . . perhaps something the neighbours will talk about in hushed tones over their chain-link fences. I picture my little alcoholic habit as a swarmy used car salesman named Henrique . . . really he only wants the best for me (or so he shall say). When I am down or feeling blue he shall whisper sweet, swarmy nothings in my ear of all things related to rum. Whisper whissssssssssppppppppperrrrrrrr.

prepare to meet your doom and destruction

Holypiss! I am in a world of a bad mood today. Fuckity Fuck. The one person I really want to talk to isn't speaking to me and being quite obviously shafty. I just want to throw things at random strangers . . . sharp and unbouncy objects. Just down the street all the sidewalks were repaved today and are currently vunerable to my wrath-filled vandalism. I think I'll draw a giant mutant cow face or something retarded to spite everyone in my neighbourhood. I'm bored and I need espresso, so I am off to grumble into the night.

razmataz

Watch me dazzle you with my vastly retarded knowledge!! Hitler was a vegetarian! Neat!

. . . what a waste of a post.

frozen and meat-free

It's yet another dreary day of overcast nastiness . . . silly of me, thinking it was summer and all. To remedy the general feeling of gross this day has produced, I am fleeing to the nearest house of the caffiene and drowning myself in espresso.

Following the caffienated fun times, I intend to drive to Vegas with the windows down and the desert air blowing through my hair. Unfortunetely, I'll be so hopped up on espresso that 5 minutes into the drive to Sin City I will plow into an iHop killing 3 truckers instantly . . . their deaths will be quick, have no fear. I have no intention of remaining at the site of the crash and therefore will flee into the night. It'll be the shit urban legands are made of.

"Then the crazy espresso demon ran into the night, howling like a monkey. To this day you can hear her screams in the forest near that cursed iHop. Just when you think she has disappeared into the night having had her coffee fix, that's when you hear gentle bubbling of the Mr. Coffee perking. It's the last sound you will ever hear . . . "

Needless to say, I'll eat their brains, zombie style!

greatness abounds

oh ho ho my brothers, this is a nerd post if ever there was one! Consider yourself warned.

I am so excited, beyond excited, in fact. It's one of those excitments that make you grin like a fool for hours on end and you only snap out of it when you realize your cheeks hurt and that happy grin has turned into a grimace of muscley pain. It's finally happened my friends!! They released "The Dictators: Hitler's Germany, Stalin's Russia" on paperback!! HOLYPISS!! I have been eyeing this book for months on end . . . it was nearing my year anniversary of patheticness with this book. I would go into the bookstore pick it up and just walk with it hoping someone would mistake the ownership as my own. The expense of such a book was the only thing keeping us apart. I was a poor student and it was a crazy overpriced hardcover.

It was beautiful, it was a huge black book with the word "Dictators" emblazoned in flaming red letters. The cover had profiles of Hitler and Stalin looking off into the distance like those cheesy grad photos were you look all dewy-eyed and hopeful. It was amazing, a regular Christmas day miracle! Richard Overy, you magnificent bastard, thank you my friend.

awesome indeed

an intervention of cool

So over the past couple of days I have watched Zhang Yimou's Hero about fifty bazillion times. I am just amazed with his sense of color and movement . . . it just warms a nerds heart. Really, it was beautiful and fantastic despite the dialogue leaving something to be imagined (but who can say what was lost in the translation).

Basically, my father told my I was lame shut-in yesterday and so ensued project eureka, in which, I have forced myself to re-enter the smelly world of bright, bright lights . . . thinking of it, the whole watching of Hero so many times shows the true success of the project!! Oh ho ho! At least I had to leave the house to rent it, a minor success. I do plan to indulge in alcoholism later in the week, that'll get me out of the house. Just keep all perch and fish-like people away from me or trouble ensues. I happen to attract the fish . . . nothing good will come of it.

God speed mon freres.

the lamest of the lame

The Mombles just cut up some cantalope, it smells amazing! Unfortunetely, I cannot have any because of that sodding 'Alive' film about the plane crash and the delicious cannibalism and what not. I happened to be eating cold cantalope while watching the movie, what made it awesome was that I took a bite during the feast of the fallen comrades . . . needless to say, associations were made and grossness was had. My melon has been sullied forevah! DANG!

Read this. Enjoy the beauty.

schnecke: a delicious german pastry of spelling doom

Oh my brothers, my evening has just been made!! It's the national spelling bee tonight . . . I cannot express my nerdy love of the spelling bee. It's friggin intense!! As an added bonus to this year's competetion, is the lack of the annoying Jamaician chick who always stalled and then stalled some more. Plus, she keep saying 'thank you ma'am' after she was finished stalling, and proceded to stall some more.

It's like a weird little nerd parade with pale children who have been locked in their bedroom with the dictionary. How can you not love pale nerds?! I'm rooting for Samir Sudhir Patel because he is one cocky little muthafucker. He's like a little word machine! Also, I am totally in love with the voice guy, what a sexy monotone drawl. Nobody can say ornithorhynchous like he can!

I really hope somebody gets beefalo because I will giggle like a jackasss.

ragu will be my sidekick

Welcome to Loserville. Population: well it's not just me, there's plenty, but for the sake of self pity we'll say 1. So I got called into work on my sodding day off. Neat! Then some awesome lady decided to keep me a half an hour late so I can't bloody well close the store. Thank you, my friend, I did have fantastically lame plans to watch the bats at sunset at my keen secret hangout, but now I missed the sunset. It was freaking fushia tonight. Fushia and I missed it all. On the brightside, I do have a secret hideout!! HOW SUPERHERO IS THAT?! It's pretty freaking superheroish my brothers. My superpower will be fantastical lameness; my name will be Big Larry, protecting the lameos everywhere. Everyone will say that Big Larry is one mean muthafucka.