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.